,david ,turner1 ,charles ,franks and the ,online ,distributed ,proofreading ,team4 ,,literary ,,and ,,philosophical ,,essays ,,harvard ,,classics ,v#cb ,,contents ,,that ,,we ,,should ,,not ,,judge ,,of ,,our ,,happiness ,,until ,,after ,,our ,,death ,,that ,,to ,,philosophise ,,is ,,to ,,learne ,how ,,to ,,die ,,of ,,the ,,institution ,,and ,,education ,,of ,,children ,,of ,,friendship ,,of ,,bookes ,,by ,,montaigne ,,montaigne ,,what ,,is ,a ,,classic8 ,,by ,,chasles-,,augustin ,,sainte-,,beuve ,,the ,,poetry ,,of ,,the ,,celtic ,,races ,,by ,,ernest ,,renan ,,the ,,education ,,of ,,the ,,human ,,race ,,by ,,gotthold ,,ephraim ,,lessing ,,letters ,,upon ,,the ,,aesthetic ,,education ,,of ,,man ,,by ,j4 ,c4 ,,friedrich ,,von ,,schiller ,,fundamental ,,principles ,,of ,,the ,,metaphysic ,,of ,,morals ,,transition ,,from ,,popular ,,moral ,,philosophy ,,to ,,the ,,metaphysic ,,of ,,morals ,,immanuel ,,kant ,,byron ,,and ,,goethe ,,by ,,giuseppe ,,mazzini ,,introductory ,,note ,michel ,eyquem ,de ,montaigne1 the founder of the modern ,essay1 was born ,february #bh1 #aecc1 at the chateau of ,montaigne in ,pirigord4 ,he came of a family of wealthy merchants of ,bordeaux1 and was educated at the ,college de ,guyenne1 where he had among his teachers the great ,scottish ,latinist1 ,george ,buchanan4 ,later he studied law1 and held various public offices2 but at the age of thirty-eight he retired to his estates1 where he lived apart from the civil wars of the time1 and devoted himself to study and thought4 ,while he was traveling in ,germany and ,italy1 in #aehj-ha1 he was elected mayor of ,bordeaux1 and this office he filled for four years4 ,he married in #aefe1 and had six daughters1 only one of whom grew up4 ,the first two books of his ,essays appeared in #aehj2 the third in #aehh2 and four years later he died4 ,these are the main external facts of ,montaigne's life3 of the man himself the portrait is to be found in his book4 ,it is myself ,i portray1 he declares2 and there is nowhere in literature a volume of self-revelation surpassing his in charm and candor4 ,he is frankly egotistical1 yet modest and unpretentious2 profoundly wise1 yet constantly protesting his ignorance2 learned1 yet careless1 forgetful1 and inconsistent4 ,his themes are as wide and varied as his observation of human life1 and he has written the finest eulogy of friendship the world has known4 ,bacon1 who knew his book and borrowed from it1 wrote on the same subject2 and the contrast of the essays is the true reflection of the contrast between the personalities of their authors4 ,shortly after ,montaigne's death the ,essays were translated into ,english by ,john ,florio1 with less than exact accuracy1 but in a style so full of the flavor of the age that we still read ,montaigne in the version which ,shakespeare knew4 ,the group of examples here printed exhibits the author in a variety of moods1 easy1 serious1 and1 in the essay on ,friendship1 as nearly impassioned as his philosophy ever allowed him to become4 ,reader1 be here a well-meaning ,booke4 ,it doth at the firth entrance forewarne thee1 that in contriving the same ,i have proposed unto my selfe no other than a familiar and private end3 ,i have no respect or consideration at all1 either to thy service1 or to my glory3 my forces are not capable of any such desseigne4 ,i have vowed the same to the particular commodity of my kinsfolks and friends3 to the end1 that losing me 7which they are likely to doe ere long71 they may therein find some lineaments of my conditions and humours1 and by that meanes reserve more whole1 and more lively foster the knowledge and acquaintance they have had of me4 ,had my intention beene to forestal and purchase the world's opinion and favour1 ,i would surely have adorned myselfe more quaintly1 or kept a more grave and solemne march4 ,i desire therein to be delineated in mine owne genuine1 simple and ordinarie fashion1 without contention1 art or study2 for it is myself e ,i pourtray4 ,my imperfections shall therein be read to the life1 and my naturall forme discerned1 so farre-forth as publike reverence hath permitted me4 ,for if my fortune had beene to have lived among those nations which yet are said to live under the sweet liberty of ,nature's first and uncorrupted lawes1 ,i assure thee1 ,i would most willingly have pourtrayed my selfe fully and naked4 ,thus1 gentle ,reader1 myself ,i am the groundworke of my booke3 it is then no reason thou shouldest employ thy time about so frivolous and vaine a subject4 ,therefore farewell4 ,from ,,montaigne1 ,the ,first of ,march1 #aehj4 ,,that ,,we ,,should ,,not ,,judge ,,of ,,our ,,happinesse ,,untill ,,after ,,our ,,death scilicet ultima semper ,expectanda dies homini est1 dicique beatus ,ante obitum nemo1 supremaque funera debat4 ,footnote3 ,ovid4 ,met4 #a1 iii4 #ace4 ,we must expect of man the latest day1 ,nor ere he die1 he's happie1 can we say4 ,the very children are acquainted with the storie of ,croesus to this purpose3 who being taken by ,cyrus1 and by him condemned to die1 upon the point of his execution1 cried out aloud3 ,oh ,solon1 ,solon6 which words of his1 being reported to ,cyrus1 who inquiring what he meant by them1 told him1 hee now at his owne cost verified the advertisement ,solon had before times given him2 which was1 that no man1 what cheerefull and blandishing countenance soever fortune shewed them1 may rightly deeme himselfe happie1 till such time as he have passed the last day of his life1 by reason of the uncertaintie and vicissitude of humane things1 which by a very light motive1 and slight occasion1 are often changed from one to another cleane contrary state and degree4 ,and therefore ,agesilaus answered one that counted the ,king of ,persia happy1 because being very young1 he had gotten the garland of so mightie and great a dominion3 yea but said he1 ,priam at the same age was not unhappy4 ,of the ,kings of ,macedon that succeeded ,alexander the ,great1 some were afterward seene to become ,joyners and ,scriveners at ,rome3 and of ,tyrants of ,sicilie1 ,schoolemasters at ,corinth4 ,one that had conquered halfe the world1 and been ,emperour over so many1 ,armies1 became an humble and miserable suter to the raskally officers of a king of ,a,egypte3 ,at so high a rate did that great ,pompey purchase the irkesome prolonging of his life but for five or six moneths4 ,and in our fathers daies1 ,lodowicke ,sforze1 tenth ,duke of ,millane1 under whom the ,state of ,italic had so long beene turmoiled and shaken1 was seene to die a wretched prisoner at ,loches in ,france1 but not till he had lived and lingered ten yeares in thraldom1 which was the worst of his bargaine4 ,the fairest ,queene1 wife to the greatest ,king of ,christendome1 was she not lately scene to die by the hands of an executioner8 ,oh unworthie and barbarous cruelties ,and a thousand such examples4 ,for1 it seemeth that as the sea-billowes and surging waves1 rage and storme against the surly pride and stubborne height of our buildings1 so are there above1 certaine spirits that envie the rising prosperities and greatnesse heere below4 ,vsque adeb res humanas vis abdita quadam ,obterit1 et pulchros fasces savsque secures ,proculcare1 ac ludibrio sibi habere videtur4 ,footnote3 ,,lucret4 ,i4 v4 #abdc4 ,a hidden power so mens states hath out-worne ,faire swords1 fierce scepters1 signes of honours borne1 ,it seemes to trample and deride in scorne4 ,and it seemeth ,fortune doth sometimes narrowly watch the last day of our life1 thereby to shew her power1 and in one moment to overthrow what for many yeares together she had been erecting1 and makes us cry after ,laberius1 ,nimirum hoc die una plus vixi1 mihi quam vivendum fuit4 ,footnote3 ,,machob1 #a1 ii4 #g4 ,thus it is1 ,i have lived longer by this one day than ,i should4 ,so may that good advice of ,solon be taken with reason4 ,but forsomuch as he is a ,philosopher1 with whom the favours or disfavours of fortune1 and good or ill lucke have no place1 and are not regarded by him2 and puissances and greatnesses1 and accidents of qualitie1 are well-nigh indifferent3 ,i deeme it very likely he had a further reach1 and meant that the same good fortune of our life1 which dependeth of the tranquillitie and contentment of a welborne minde1 and of the resolution and assurance of a well ordered soule1 should never be ascribed unto man1 untill he have beene scene play the last act of his comedie1 and without doubt the hardest4 ,in all the rest there may be some maske3 either these sophisticall discourses of ,philosophie are not in us but by countenance1 or accidents that never touch us to the quick1 give us alwaies leasure to keep our countenance setled4 ,but when that last part of death1 and of our selves comes to be acted1 then no dissembling will availe1 then is it high time to speake plaine ,english1 and put off all vizards3 then whatsoever the pot containeth must be shewne1 be it good or bad1 foule or cleane1 wine or water4 ,nam vera voces tum demum pectore ab imo ,ejiciuntur1 et eripitur persona1 manet res4 ,footnote3 ,,luceet4 #a4 iii4 #eg4 ,for then are sent true speeches from the heart1 ,we are ourselves1 we leave to play a part4 ,loe heere1 why at this last cast1 all our lives other actions must be tride and touched4 ,it is the master-day1 the day that judgeth all others3 it is the day1 saith an auncient ,writer1 that must judge of all my forepassed yeares4 ,to death doe ,i referre the essay ,footnote3 ,assay1 exact weighing4 of my studies fruit4 ,there shall wee see whether my discourse proceed from my heart1 or from my mouth4 ,i have scene divers1 by their death1 either in good or evill1 give reputation to all their forepassed life4 ,scipio1 father-in-law to ,pompey1 in well dying1 repaired the ill opinion which untill that houre men had ever held of him4 ,epaminondas being demanded which of the three he esteemed most1 either ,chabrias1 or ,iphicrates1 or himselfe3 ,it is necessary1 said he1 that we be scene to die1 before your question may well be resolved4 ,footnote3 ,answered4 ,verily1 we should steale much from him1 if he should be weighed without the honour and greatnesse of his end4 ,god hath willed it1 as he pleased3 but in my time three of the most execrable persons that ever ,i knew in all abomination of life1 and the most infamous1 have beene seen to die very orderly and quietly1 and in every circumstance composed even unto perfection4 ,there are some brave and fortunate deaths4 ,i have seene her cut the twine of some man's life1 with a progresse of wonderful advancement1 and with so worthie an end1 even in the flowre of his growth and spring of his youth1 that in mine opinion1 his ambitious and haughtie couragious signes1 thought nothing so high as might interrupt them who without going to the place where he pretended1 arived there more gloriously and worthily than either his desire or hope aimed at1 and by his fall fore-went the power and name1 whither by his course he aspired4 ,when ,i judge of other men's lives1 ,i ever respect how they have behaved themselves in their end2 and my chiefest study is1 ,i may well demeane my selfe at my last gaspe1 that is to say1 quietly and constantly4 ,,that ,,to ,,philosophise ,,is ,,to ,,learne ,,how ,,to ,,die ,cicero saith1 that to ,philosophise is no other thing than for a man to prepare himselfe to death3 which is the reason that studie and contemplation doth in some sort withdraw our soule from us1 and severally employ it from the body1 which is a kind of apprentisage and resemblance of death2 or else it is1 that all the wisdome and discourse of the world1 doth in the end resolve upon this point1 to teach us not to feare to die4 ,truly either reason mockes us1 or it only aimeth at our contentment1 and in fine1 bends all her travell to make us live well1 and as the holy ,scripture saith1 at our ease4 ,all the opinions of the world conclude1 that pleasure is our end1 howbeit they take divers meanes unto and for it1 else would men reject them at their first comming4 ,for1 who would give eare unto him1 that for it's end would establish our paine and disturbance8 ,the dissentions of philosophicall sects in this case are verbal3 ,transcurramus solertissimas ,hugos ,footnote3 ,travails1 labours4 ,let us run over such over-fine fooleries and subtill trifles4 ,there is more wilfulnesse and wrangling among them1 than pertains to a sacred profession4 ,but what person a man undertakes to act1 he doth ever therewithal6 personate his owne4 ,allthough they say1 that in vertue it selfe1 the last scope of our aime is voluptuousnes4 ,it pleaseth me to importune their eares still with this word1 which so much offends their hearing4 ,and if it imply any chief pleasure or exceeding contentments1 it is rather due to the assistance of vertue1 than to any other supply1 voluptuousnes being more strong1 sinnowie1 sturdie1 and manly1 is but more seriously voluptuous4 ,and we should give it the name of pleasure1 more favorable1 sweeter1 and more naturall2 and not terme it vigor1 from which it hath his denomination4 ,should this baser sensuality deserve this faire name1 it should be by competencie1 and not by privilege4 ,i finde it lesse void of incommodities and crosses than vertue4 ,and besides that her taste is more fleeting1 momentarie1 and fading1 she hath her fasts1 her eyes1 and her travels1 and both sweat and blood4 ,furthermore she hath particularly so many wounding passions1 and of so severall sorts1 and so filthie and loathsome a societie waiting upon her1 that shee is equivalent to penitencie4 ,wee are in the wrong1 to thinke her incommodities serve her as a provocation and seasoning to her sweetnes1 as in nature one contrarie is vivified by another contrarie3 and to say1 when we come to vertue1 that like successes and difficulties overwhelme it1 and yeeld it austere and inaccessible4 ,whereas much more properly then unto voluptuousnes1 they ennobled1 sharpen1 animate1 and raise that divine and perfect pleasure1 which it meditates and procureth us4 ,truly he is verie unworthie her acquaintance1 that counter-ballanceth her cost to his fruit1 and knowes neither the graces nor use of it4 ,those who go about to instruct us1 how her pursuit is very hard and laborious1 and her jovisance ,footnote3 ,enjoyment well-pleasing and delightfull3 what else tell they us1 but that shee is ever unpleasant and irksome8 ,for what humane meane ,footnote3 ,human meana4 man's life is subject1 it is not with an equall care3 as well because accidents are not of such a necessitie1 for most men passe their whole life without feeling any want or povertie1 and othersome without feeling any griefe or sicknes1 as ,xenophilus the ,musitian1 who lived an hundred and six yeares in perfect and continuall health3 as also if the worst happen1 death may at all times1 and whensoever it shall please us1 cut off all other inconveniences and crosses4 ,but as for death1 it is inevitable4 did ever attaine unto an absolute enjoying of it8 ,the perfectest have beene content but to aspire and approach her1 without ever possessing her4 ,but they are deceived2 seeing that of all the pleasures we know1 the pursute of them is pleasant4 ,the enterprise is perceived by the qualitie of the thing1 which it hath regard unto3 for it is a good portion of the effect1 and consubstantiall4 ,that happines and felicitie1 which shineth in vertue1 replenisheth her approaches and appurtenances1 even unto1 the first entrance and utmost barre4 ,now of all the benefits of vertue1 the contempt of death is the chiefest1 a meane that furnisheth our life with an ease-full tranquillitie1 and gives us a pure and amiable taste of it3 without which every other voluptuousnes is extinguished4 ,loe1 here the reasons why all rules encounter and agree with this article4 ,and albeit they all leade us with a common accord to despise povertie1 and other accidental6 crosses1 to which ,omnes eodem cogimur1 omnium ,versatur urna1 serius1 ocius ,sors exitura1 et nos in aeternum ,exilium impositura cymbae1 ,footnote3 ,hor4 ,i4 iii4 ,od4 iii4 #be4 ,all to one place are driv'n1 of all ,shak't is the lot-pot1 where-hence shall ,sooner or later drawne lots fall1 ,and to deaths boat for aye enthrall4 ,and by consequence1 if she makes us affeard1 it is a continual subject of torment1 and which can no way be eased4 ,there is no starting-hole will hide us from her1 she will finde us wheresoever we are1 we may as in a suspected countrie start and turne here and there3 quae quasi saxum ,tantalo semper impendet4,footnote3 ,cic4 ,de ,fin4 ,i4 i4 ,which evermore hangs like the stone over the head of ,tantalus3 ,our lawes doe often condemne and send malefactors to be executed in the same place where the crime was committed3 to which whilest they are going1 leade them along the fairest houses1 or entertaine them with the best cheere you can1 non ,siculae dapes ,dulcem elaborabunt saporem3 ,non avium1 citharaeque cantus ,somnum reducent4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 ,i4 iii4 ,od4 i1 #ab4 ,not all ,king ,denys daintie fare1 ,can pleasing taste for them prepare3 ,no song of birds1 no musikes sound ,can lullabie to sleepe profound4 ,doe you thinke they can take any pleasure in it8 or be any thing delighted8 and that the finall intent of their voiage being still before their eies1 hath not altered and altogether distracted their taste from all these commodities and allurements8 ,audit iter1 numeratque dies1 spatioque viarum ,metitur vitam1 torquetur peste futura4 ,footnote3 ,claud1 in ,ruff4 #a4 ii4 #acg ,he heares his journey1 counts his daies1 so measures he ,his life by his waies length1 vext with the ill shall be4 ,the end of our cariere is death1 it is the necessarie object of our aime3 if it affright us1 how is it possible we should step one foot further without an ague8 ,the remedie of the vulgar sort is1 not to think on it4 ,but from what brutall stupiditie may so grosse a blindnesse come upon him8 he must be made to bridle his ,asse by the taile1 ,qiti capite ipse suo instituit vestigia retro4 ,footnote3 ,lucret4 #a4 iv4 #dgd ,who doth a course contrarie runne ,with his head to his course begunne4 ,it is no marvell if he be so often taken tripping2 some doe no sooner heare the name of death spoken of1 but they are afraid1 yea the most part will crosse themselves1 as if they heard the ,devill named4 ,and because mention is made of it in mens wils and testaments1 ,i warrant you there is none will set his hand to them1 til the physitian hath given his last doome1 and utterly forsaken him4 ,and ,god knowes1 being then betweene such paine and feare1 with what sound judgment they endure him4 ,for so much as this syllable sounded so unpleasantly in their eares1 and this voice seemed so ill boding and unluckie1 the ,romans had learned to allay and dilate the same by a ,periphrasis4 ,in liew of saying1 he is dead1 or he hath ended his daies1 they would say1 he hath lived4 ,so it be life1 be it past or no1 they are comforted3 from whom we have borrowed our phrases quondam1 alias1 or late such a one4 ,it may haply be1 as the common saying is1 the time we live is worth the mony we pay for it4 ,i was borne betweene eleven of the clocke and noone1 the last of ,februarie #aecc1 according to our computation1 the yeare beginning the first of ,januarie4 ,it is but a fortnight since ,i was #ci yeares old4 ,i want at least as much more4 ,if in the meane time ,i should trouble my thoughts with a matter so farre from me1 it were but folly4 ,but what8 we see both young and old to leave their life after one selfe-same condition4 ,no man departs otherwise from it1 than if he but now came to it1 seeing there is no man so crazed1,footnote3 ,infirm bedrell1 ,footnote3 ,bedridden4 or decrepit1 so long as he remembers ,methusalem1 but thinkes he may yet live twentie yeares4 ,moreover1 seely ,footnote3 ,simple1 weak4 creature as thou art1 who hath limited the end of thy daies8 ,happily thou presumest upon physitians reports4 ,rather consider the effect and experience4 ,by the common course of things long since thou livest by extraordinarie favour4 ,thou hast alreadie over-past the ordinarie tearmes of common life3 ,and to prove it1 remember but thy acquaintances1 and tell me how many more of them have died before they came to thy age1 than have either attained or outgone the same3 yea1 and of those that through renoune have ennobled their life1 if thou but register them1 ,i will lay a wager1 ,i will finde more that have died before they came to five and thirty years1 than after4 ,it is consonant with reason and pietie1 to take example by the humanity of ,jesus ,christ1 who ended his humane life at three and thirtie yeares4 ,the greatest man that ever was1 being no more than a man1 ,i meane ,alexander the ,great1 ended his dayes1 and died also of that age4 ,how many severall meanes and waies hath death to surprise us6 ,quid quisque vitet1 nunquam homini satis ,cautum est in horas ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 ii4 ,od4 xiii4 #ac4 ,a man can never take good heed1 ,hourely what he may shun and speed4 ,i omit to speak of agues and pleurisies2 who would ever have imagined that a ,duke of ,brittanie should have beene stifled to death in a throng of people1 as whilome was a neighbour of mine at ,lyons1 when ,pope ,clement made his entrance there8 ,hast thou not seene one of our late ,kings slaine in the middest of his sports8 and one of his ancestors die miserably by the chocke ,footnote3 ,shock4 of an hog8 ,eschilus fore threatned by the fall of an house1 when he stood most upon his guard1 strucken dead by the fall of a tortoise shell1 which fell out of the tallants of an eagle flying in the air8 and another choaked with the kernell of a grape8 ,and an ,emperour die by the scratch of a combe1 whilest he was combing his head8 ,and ,aemylius ,lepidus with hitting his foot against a doore-seele8 ,and ,aufidius with stumbling against the ,consull-chamber doore as he was going in thereat8 ,and ,cornelius ,gallus1 the ,praetor1 ,tigillinus1 ,captaine of the ,romane watch1 ,lodowike1 sonne of ,guido ,gonzaga1 ,marquis of ,mantua1 end their daies betweene womens thighs8 ,and of a farre worse example ,speusippus1 the ,platonian philosopher1 and one of our ,popes8 ,poore ,bebius a ,judge1 whilest he demurreth the sute of a plaintife but for eight daies1 be hold1 his last expired3 ,and ,caius ,iulius a ,physitian1 whilest he was annointing the eies of one of his patients1 to have his owne sight closed for ever by death4 ,and if amongst these examples1 ,i may adde one of a brother of mine1 called ,captain ,saint ,martin1 a man of three and twentie yeares of age1 who had alreadie given good testimonie of his worth and forward valour1 playing at tennis1 received a blow with a ball1 that hit him a little above the right eare1 without apparance of any contusion1 bruse1 or hurt1 and never sitting or resting upon it1 died within six houres after of an apoplexie1 which the blow of the ball caused in him4 ,these so frequent and ordinary examples1 hapning1 and being still before our eies1 how is it possible for man to forgo or for get the remembrance of death8 and why should it not continually seeme unto us1 that shee is still ready at hand to take us by the throat8 ,what matter is it1 will you say unto me1 how and in what manner it is1 so long as a man doe not trouble and vex himselfe therewith8 ,i am of this opinion1 that howsoever a man may shrowd or hide himselfe from her dart1 yea1 were it under an oxe-hide1 ,i am not the man would shrinke backe3 it sufficeth me to live at my ease2 and the best recreation ,i can have1 that doe ,i ever take2 in other matters1 as little vain glorious1 and exemplare as you list4 --praetulerim delirus inersque videri1 ,dum mea delectent mala me1 vel denique fallant1 ,quam sapere et ringi ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 ii4 ,episi4 ii #abf ,a dotard ,i had rather seeme1 and dull1 ,sooner my faults may please make me a gull1 ,than to be wise1 and beat my vexed scull4 ,but it is folly to thinke that way to come unto it4 ,they come1 they goe1 they trot1 they daunce3 but no speech of death4 ,all that is good sport4 ,but if she be once come1 and on a sudden and openly surprise1 either them1 their wives1 their children1 or their friends1 what torments1 what out cries1 what rage1 and what despaire doth then overwhelme them8 saw you ever anything so drooping1 so changed1 and so distracted8 ,a man must looke to it1 and in better times fore-see it4 ,and might that brutish carelessenesse lodge in the minde of a man of understanding 7which ,i find altogether impossible7 she sels us her ware at an overdeere rate3 were she an enemie by mans wit to be avoided1 ,i would advise men to borrow the weapons of cowardlinesse3 but since it may not be1 and that be you either a coward or a runaway1 an honest or valiant man1 she overtakes you1 ,nempe et fugacem persequitur virum1 ,nec parcit imbellis juventae ,poplitibus1 timidoque tergo4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 iii4 ,od4 ii4 #ad4 ,shee persecutes the man that flies1 ,shee spares not weake youth to surprise1 ,but on their hammes and backe turn'd plies4 ,and that no temper of cuirace ,footnote3 ,cuirass4 may shield or defend you1 ,ille licet ferro cauius se condat et aere1 ,mors tamen inclusum protraket inde caput4 ,footnote3 ,propert4 #a4 iii4 et xvii4 #e ,though he with yron and brasse his head empale1 ,yet death his head enclosed thence will hale4 ,let us learne to stand1 and combat her with a resolute minde4 ,and being to take the greatest advantage she hath upon us from her1 let us take a cleane contrary way from the common1 let us remove her strangenesse from her1 let us converse1 frequent1 and acquaint our selves with her1 let us have nothing so much in minde as death1 let us at all times and seasons1 and in the ugliest manner that may be1 yea with all faces shapen and represent the same unto our imagination4 ,at the stumbling of a horse1 at the fall of a stone1 at the least prick with a pinne1 let us presently ruminate and say with our selves1 what if it were death it selfe8 and thereupon let us take heart of grace1 and call our wits together to confront her4 ,amiddest our bankets1 feasts1 and pleasures1 let us ever have this restraint or object before us1 that is1 the remembrance of our condition1 and let not pleasure so much mislead or transport us1 that we altogether neglect or forget1 how many waies1 our joyes1 or our feastings1 be subject unto death1 and by how many hold-fasts shee threatens us and them4 ,so did the ,a,egyptians1 who in the middest of their banquetings1 and in the full of their greatest cheere1 caused the anatomie ,footnote3 ,skeleton of a dead man to be brought before them1 as a memorandum and warning to their guests4 ,omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum1 ,grata superveniet2 quae non sperabitur1 hora8 ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 i4 ,epist4 iv4 #ac4 ,thinke every day shines on thee as thy last1 ,welcome it will come1 whereof hope was past4 ,it is uncertaine where death looks for us2 let us expect her everie where3 the premeditation of death1 is a forethinking of libertie4 ,he who hath learned to die1 hath unlearned to serve4 ,there is no evill in life1 for him that hath well conceived1 how the privation of life is no evill4 ,to know how to die1 doth free us from all subjection and constraint4 ,paulus ,a,emilius answered one1 whom that miserable king of ,macedon his prisoner sent to entreat him he would not lead him in triumph1 ,let him make that request unto himselfe4 ,verily1 if ,nature afford not some helpe in all things1 it is very hard that art and industrie should goe farre before4 ,of my selfe1 ,i am not much given to melancholy1 but rather to dreaming and sluggishness4 ,there is nothing wherewith ,i have ever more entertained my selfe1 than with the imaginations of death1 yea in the most licentious times of my age4 ,iucundum1 cum atas florida ver ageret ,footnote3 ,catul4 ,eleg4 iv4 #af4 ,when my age flourishing ,did spend its pleasant spring4 ,being amongst faire ,ladies1 and in earnest play1 some have thought me busied1 or musing with my selfe1 how to digest some jealousie1 or meditating on the uncertaintie of some conceived hope1 when ,god he knowes1 ,i was entertaining my selfe with the remembrance of some one or other1 that but few daies before was taken with a burning fever1 and of his sodaine end1 comming from such a feast or meeting where ,i was my selfe1 and with his head full of idle conceits1 of lore1 and merry glee2 supposing the same1 either sickness or end1 to be as neere me as him4 ,iam fuerit1 nec post1 unquam revocare licebit4 ,footnote3 ,lucr4 ,i4 iii4 #idg4 ,now time would be1 no more ,you can this time restore4 ,i did no more trouble my selfe or frowne at such conceit1 ,idea4 than at any other4 ,it is impossible we should not apprehend or feele some motions or startings at such imaginations at the first1 and comming sodainely upon us2 but doubtlesse1 he that shall manage and meditate upon them with an impartiall eye1 they will assuredly1 in tract ,course4 of time1 become familiar to him3 ,otherwise1 for my part1 ,i should be in continuall feare and agonie2 for no man did ever more distrust his life1 nor make lesse account of his continuance3 ,neither can health1 which hitherto ,i have so long enjoied1 and which so seldome hath beene crazed1 ,enfeebled4 lengthen my hopes1 nor any sicknesse shorten them of it4 ,at every minute me thinkes ,i make an escape4 ,and ,i uncessantly record unto my selfe1 that whatsoever may be done another day1 may be effected this day4 ,truly hazards and dangers doe little or nothing approach us at our end3 ,and if we consider1 how many more there remaine1 besides this accident1 which in number more than millions seeme to threaten us1 and hang over us2 we shall find1 that be we sound or sicke1 lustie or weake1 at sea or at land1 abroad or at home1 fighting or at rest1 in the middest of a battell or1 in our beds1 she is ever alike neere unto us4 ,nemo altero fragilior est1 nemo in crastinum sui certior3 ,no man is weaker then other2 none surer of himselfe 7to live7 till to morrow4 ,whatsoever ,i have to doe before death1 all leasure to end the same seemeth short unto me1 yea were it but of one houre4 ,some body1 not long since turning over my writing tables1 found by chance a memoriall of something ,i would have done after my death3 ,i told him 7as indeed it was true71 that being but a mile from my house1 and in perfect health and lustie1 ,i had made haste to write it1 because ,i could not assure my self ,i should ever come home in safety3 ,as one that am ever hatching of mine owne thoughts1 and place them in my selfe3 ,i am ever prepared about that which ,i may be3 nor can death 7come when she please7 put me in mind of any new thing4 ,a man should ever1 as much as in him lieth1 be ready booted to take his journey1 and above all things1 looke he have then nothing to doe but with himselfe4 ,quid brevi fortes jaculamur aevo ,multa3 ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 ii4 ,od4 ,xiv ,to aime why are we ever bold1 ,at many things in so short hold8 ,for then we shall have worke sufficient1 without any more accrease4 ,some man complaineth more that death doth hinder him from the assured course of an hoped for victorie1 than of death it selfe2 another cries out1 he should give place to her1 before he have married his daughter1 or directed the course of his childrens bringing up2 another bewaileth he must forgoe his wives company2 another moaneth the losse of his children1 the chiefest commodities of his being4 ,i am now by meanes of the mercy of ,god in such a taking1 that without regret or grieving at any worldly matter1 ,i am prepared to dislodge1 whensoever he shall please to call me3 ,i am every where free3 my farewell is soone taken of all my friends1 except of my selfe4 ,no man did ever pre pare himselfe to quit the world more simply and fully1 or more generally spake of all thoughts of it1 than ,i am assured ,i shall doe4 ,the deadest deaths are the best4 --,miser1 de miser 7aiunt7 omnia ademit4 ,vna dies infesta mihi tot praemia vitae3 ,footnote3 ,luce4 #a4 iii4 #ida4 ,o wretch1 ,o wretch 7friends cry71 one day1 ,all joyes of life hath tane away3 ,and the builder1 --manent 7saith he7 opera interrupta1 minaeque ,murorum ingentes4 ,footnote3 ,virg4 ,aen4 #a4 iv4 #hh4 ,the workes unfinisht lie1 ,and walls that threatned hie4 ,a man should designe nothing so long afore-hand1 or at least with such an intent1 as to passionate,footnote3 ,long passionately4 himselfe to see the end of it2 we are all borne to be doing4 ,cum moriar1 medium solvar et inter opus ,footnote3 ,ovid4 ,am4 #a4 ii4 ,el4 x4 #cf ,when dying ,i my selfe shall spend1 ,ere halfe my businesse come to end4 ,i would have a man to be doing1 and to prolong his lives offices as much as lieth in him1 and let death seize upon me whilest ,i am setting my cabiges1 carelesse of her dart1 but more of my unperfect garden4 ,i saw one die1 who being at his last gaspe1 uncessantly complained against his destinie1 and that death should so unkindly cut him off in the middest of an historie which he had in hand1 and was now come to the fifteenth or sixteenth of our ,kings4 ,illud in his rebus non addunt1 nec tibi earum1 ,iam desiderium rerum super insidet uno4 ,footnote3 ,luce4 #a4 iii4 #dd4 ,friends adde not that in this case1 now no more ,shalt thou desire1 or want things wisht before4 ,a man should rid himselfe of these vulgar and hurtful humours4 ,even as ,churchyards were first place adjoyning unto churches1 and in the most frequented places of the ,city1 to enure 7as ,lycurgus said7 the common people1 women and children1 not to be skared at the sight of a dead man1 and to the end that continuall spectacle of bones1 sculs1 tombes1 graves and burials1 should forewarne us of our condition1 and fatall end4 ,quin etiam exhilarare viris convivia caede ,mos olim1 et miscere epulis spectacula dira ,certantum ferro1 saepe et super ipsa cadentum ,pocula1 respersis non parco sanguine mensis4 ,footnote3 ,syl4 #a4 xi4 #ea ,nay more1 the manner was to welcome guests1 ,and with dire shewes of slaughter to mix feasts4 ,of them that fought at sharpe1 and with bords tainted ,of them with much bloud1 who o'er full cups fainted4 ,and even as the ,a,egyptians after their feastings and carousings caused a great image of death to be brought in and shewed to the guests and bytanders1 by one that cried aloud1 ,drinke and be merry1 for such shalt thou be when thou art dead3 ,so have ,i learned this custome or lesson1 to have alwaies death1 not only in my imagination1 but continually in my mouth4 ,and there is nothing ,i desire more to be informed of than of the death of men2 that is to say1 what words1 what countenance1 and what face they shew at their death2 and in reading of histories1 which ,i so attentively observe4 ,it appeareth by the shuffling and hudling up,footnote3 ,collecting of my examples1 ,i affect,footnote3 ,like no subject so particularly as this4 ,were ,i a composer of books1 ,i would keepe a register1 commented of the divers deaths1 which in teaching men to die1 should after teach them to live4 ,dicearcus made one of that title1 but of another and lesse profitable end4 ,some man will say to mee1 the effect exceeds the thought so farre1 that there is no fence so sure1 or cunning so certaine1 but a man shall either lose or forget if he come once to that point2 let them say what they list3 to premeditate on it1 giveth no doubt a great advantage3 and it is nothing1 at the least1 to goe so farre without dismay or alteration1 or without an ague8 ,there belongs more to it3 ,nature her selfe lends her hand1 and gives us courage4 ,if it be a short and violent death1 wee have no leisure to feare it2 if otherwise1 ,i perceive that according as ,i engage my selfe in sicknesse1 ,i doe naturally fall into some disdaine and contempt of life4 ,i finde that ,i have more adoe to digest this resolution1 that ,i shall die when ,i am in health1 than ,i have when ,i am troubled with a fever3 forsomuch as ,i have no more such fast hold on the commodities of life1 whereof ,i begin to lose the use and pleasure1 and view death in the face with a lesse undanted looke1 which makes me hope1 that the further ,i goe from that1 and the nearer ,i approach to this1 so much more easily doe ,i enter in composition for their exchange4 ,even as ,i have tried in many other occurrences1 which ,caesar affirmed1 that often some things seeme greater1 being farre from us1 than if they bee neere at hand3 ,i have found that being in perfect health1 ,i have much more beene frighted with sicknesse1 than when ,i have felt it4 ,the jollitie wherein ,i live1 the pleasure and the strength make the other seeme so disproportionable from that1 that by imagination ,i amplifie these commodities by one moitie1 and apprehended them much more heavie and burthensome1 than ,i feele them when ,i have them upon my shoulders4 ,the same ,i hope will happen to me of death4 ,consider we by the ordinary mutations1 and daily declinations which we suffer1 how ,nature deprives us of the sight of our losse and empairing2 what hath an aged man left him of his youths vigor1 and of his forepast life8 ,heu senibus vita portio quanta manet ,footnote3 ,com4 ,gal4 #a4 i4 #af4 ,alas to men in yeares how small ,a part of life is left in all8 ,caesar1 to a tired and crazed ,footnote3 diseased ,souldier of his guard1 who in the open street came to him1 to beg leave he might cause himselfe to be put to death2 viewing his decrepit behaviour1 answered pleasantly3 ,doest thou thinke to be alive then8 ,were man all at once to fall into it1 ,i doe not thinke we should be able to beare such a change1 but being faire and gently led on by her hand1 in a slow1 and as it were unperceived descent1 by little and little1 and step by step1 she roules us into that miserable state1 and day by day seekes to acquaint us with it4 ,so that when youth failes in us1 we feele1 nay we perceive no shaking or transchange at all in our selves3 which in essence and veritie is a harder death1 than that of a languishing and irkesome life1 or that of age4 ,forsomuch as the leape from an ill being unto a not being1 is not so dangerous or steepie2 as it is from a delightfull and flourishing being unto a painfull and sorrowfull condition4 ,a weake bending1 and faint stopping bodie hath lesse strength to beare and under goe a heavie burden3 ,so hath our soule4 ,she must bee rouzed and raised against the violence and force of this adversarie4 ,for as it is impossible she should take any rest whilest she feareth3 whereof if she be assured 7which is a thing exceeding humane ,footnote3 human condition7 she may boast that it is impossible unquietnesse1 torment1 and feare1 much lesse the least displeasure should lodge in her4 ,non vultus instantis tyranni ,mente quatit solida1 neque ,auster1 ,dux inquieti turbidus ,adria1 ,nec fulminantis magna ,jovis manus4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 ,i4 iii4 ,od4 iii4 ,no urging tyrants threatning face1 ,where minde is found can it displace1 ,no troublous wind the rough seas ,master1 ,nor ,joves great hand1 the thunder-caster4 ,she is made ,mistris of her passions and concupiscence1 ,lady of indulgence1 of shame1 of povertie1 and of all for tunes injuries4 ,let him that can1 attaine to this advantage3 ,herein consists the true and soveraigne liberty1 that affords us meanes wherewith to jeast and make a scorne of force and injustice1 and to deride imprisonment1 gives ,footnote3 ,gyves1 shackles or fetters4 --in manicis1 et ,compedibus1 savo te sub custode tenebo4 ,ipse ,deus simui atque volam1 me solvet3 opinor ,hoc sentit1 moriar4 ,mors ultima linea rerum est4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 ,i4 i4 ,ep4 xvi4 #gf4 ,in gyves and fetters ,i will hamper thee1 ,under a ,jayler that shall cruell be3 ,yet1 when ,i will1 ,god me deliver shall1 ,he thinkes1 ,i shall die3 death is end of all4 ,our religion hath had no surer humane foundation than the contempt of life4 ,discourse of reason doth not only call and summon us unto it4 ,for why should we feare to lose a thing1 which being lost1 cannot be moaned8 but also1 since we are threatened by so many kinds of death1 there is no more inconvenience to feare them all1 than to endure one3 what matter is it when it commeth1 since it is unavoidable8 ,socrates answered one that told him1 ,the thirty tyrants have condemned thee to death4 ,and ,nature them1 said he4 ,what fondnesse is it to carke and care so much1 at that instant and passage from all exemption of paine and care8 ,as our birth brought us the birth of all things1 so shall our death the end of all things4 ,therefore is it as great follie to weepe1 we shall not live a hundred yeeres hence1 as to waile we lived not a hundred yeeres agoe4 ,death is the beginning of another life4 ,so wept we1 and so much did it cost us to enter into this life2 and so did we spoile us of our ancient vaile in entring into it4 ,nothing can be grievous that is but once4 ,is it reason so long to fear a thing of so short time8 ,long life or short life is made all one by death4 ,for long or short is not in things that are no more4 ,aristotle saith1 there are certaine little beasts alongst the river ,hyspanis1 that live but one day2 she which dies at #h o'clocke in the morning1 dies in her youth1 and she that dies at #e in the afternoon1 dies in her decrepitude1 who of us doth not laugh1 when we shall see this short moment of continuance to be had in consideration of good or ill fortune8 ,the most and the least is ours1 if we compare it with eternitie1 or equall it to the lasting of mountains1 rivers1 stars1 and trees1 or any other living creature1 is not lesse ridiculous4 ,but nature compels us to it4 ,depart 7saith she7 out of this world1 even as you came into it4 ,the same way you came from death to life1 returne without passion or amazement1 from life to death3 your death is but a peece of the worlds order1 and but a parcell of the worlds life4 --inter se mortales mutua vivunt1 ,et quasi cursores vitae lampada tradunt4 ,footnote3 ,lucret4 ii4 #gd4 #gg4 ,mortall men live by mutuall entercourse3 ,and yeeld their life-torch1 as men in a course4 ,shal ,i not change this goodly contexture of things for you8 ,it is the condition of your creation3 death is a part of yourselves3 you flie from yourselves4 ,the being you enjoy is equally shared betweene life and death4 ,the first day of your birth doth as wel addresse you to die1 as to live4 ,prima quae vitam dedit1 hora1 carpsit4 ,footnote3 ,sen4 ,her4 ,sw4 ckor4 ,iii4 ,the first houre1 that to men ,gave life1 strait1 cropt it then4 ,nascentes morimur1 finisque ab origine pendet3 ,footnote3 ,manil4 ,at4 l4 iv ,as we are borne we die2 the end ,doth of th' originall depend4 ,all the time you live1 you steale it from death3 it is at her charge4 ,the continuall worke of your life1 is to contrive death3 you are in death1 during the time you continue in life3 for1 you are after death1 when you are no longer living4 ,or if you had rather have it so1 you are dead after life3 but during life1 you are still dying3 and death doth more rudely touch the dying than the dead1 and more lively and essentially4 ,if you have profited by life1 you have also beene fed thereby1 depart then satisfied4 ,cur non ut plenus vitae conviva recedis8 ,footnote3 ,lucret4 #a4 iii4 #ihb4 ,why like a full-fed guest1 ,depart you not to rest8 ,if you have not knowne how to make use of it3 if it were unprofitable to you1 what need you care to have lost it to what end would you enjoy it longer8 --cur amplius addere quaeris ,rursum quod pereat male1 et ingratum occidat omne8 ,footnote3 ,lucret4 #a4 iii4 #ihi4 ,why seeke you more to gaine1 what must againe ,all perish ill1 and passe with griefe or paine8 ,life in itselfe is neither good nor evill3 it is the place of good or evill1 according as you prepare it for them4 ,and if you have lived one day1 you have seene all3 one day is equal to all other daies4 ,there is no other light1 there is no other night4 ,this ,sunne1 this ,moone1 these ,starres1 and this disposition1 is the very same which your forefathers enjoyed1 and which shall also entertaine your posteritie4 ,non alium videre patres1 aliumve nepotes ,aspicient4 ,footnote3 ,manil4 i4 #ebc4 ,no other saw our ,sires of old1 ,no other shall their sonnes behold4 ,and if the worst happen1 the distribution and varietie of all the acts of my comedie1 is performed in one yeare4 ,if you have observed the course of my foure seasons2 they containe the infancie1 the youth1 the viriltie1 and the old age of the world4 ,he hath plaied his part3 he knowes no other wilinesse belonging to it1 but to begin againe1 it will ever be the same1 and no other4 ,versamur ibidem1 atque insumus usque1 ,footnote3 ,lucret4 #a4 iii4 #abc4 ,we still in one place turne about1 ,still there we are1 now in1 now out4 ,atque in se sua per vestigia volvitur annus4 ,footnote3 ,virg4 ,georg4 #a4 ii4 #djc4 ,the yeare into it selfe is cast ,by those same steps1 that it hath past4 ,i am not purposed to devise you other new sports4 ,nam tibi praterea quod machiner1 inveniamque ,quod placeat nihil est2 eadem suni omnia semper4 ,footnote3 ,lucret4 #a4 ii4 #igh4 ,else nothing1 that ,i can devise or frame1 ,can please thee1 for all things are still the same4 ,make roome for others1 as others have done for you4 ,equalitie is the chiefe ground-worke of equitie1 who can complaine to be comprehended where all are contained8 ,so may you live long enough1 you shall never diminish anything from the time you have to die3 it is bootlesse2 so long shall you continue in that state which you feare1 as if you had died1 being in your swathing-clothes1 and when you were sucking4 --licet1 quot vis1 vivendo vincere secla4 ,mors sterna tamen1 nihilominus ilia manebit4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #aabf4 ,though yeares you live1 as many as you will1 ,death is eternall1 death remaineth still4 ,and ,i will so please you1 that you shall have no discontent4 ,in vera nescis nullum fore morte alium te1 ,qui possit vivus tibi te lugere peremptum1 ,stansque jacentem4 ,footnote3 ,idt4 #a4 ,iii4 #i4 ,thou know'st not there shall be not other thou1 ,when thou art dead indeed1 that can tell how ,alive to waile thee dying1 ,standing to waile thee lying4 ,nor shall you wish for life1 which you so much desire ,nec sibi enim quisquam tum se vitamque requirit1 ,footnote3 ib4 #ifc4 ,nec desiderium nostri nos afficit ullum4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #iff4 ,for then none for himselfe or life requires3 ,nor are we of our selves affected with desires4 ,death is lesse to be feared than nothing1 if there were anything lesse than nothing4 --multo mortem minus ad nos esse putandum1 ,si minus esse potest quam quod nihil esse videmus4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #igj4 ,death is much less to us1 we ought esteeme1 ,if lesse may be1 than what doth nothing seeme4 ,nor alive1 nor dead1 it doth concern you nothing4 ,alive because you are3 ,dead1 because you are no more4 ,moreover1 no man dies before his houre4 ,the time you leave behinde was no more yours than that which was before your birth1 and concerneth you no more4 ,respice enim quam nil ad nos anteacta vetustas ,temporis aeterni fuerit4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #ajaf4 ,for marke1 how all antiquitie foregone ,of all time ere we were1 to us was none4 ,wheresoever your life ended1 there is it all4 ,the profit of life consists not in the space1 but rather in the use4 ,some man hath lived long1 that hath a short life1 ,follow it whilst you have time4 ,it consists not in number of yeeres1 but in your will1 that you have lived long enough4 ,did you thinke you should never come to the place1 where you were still going8 ,there is no way but hath an end4 ,and if company may solace you1 doth not the whole world walke the same path8 --,omnia te1 vita perfuncta1 sequentur4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #ajab4 ,life past1 all things at last ,shall follow thee as thou hast past4 ,doe not all things move as you doe1 or keepe your course8 ,is there any thing grows not old together with yourselfe8 ,a thousand men1 a thousand beasts1 and a thousand other creatures die in the very instant that you die4 ,nam nox nulla diem1 neque noctem aurora sequuta est1 ,que non audierit mistus vagitibus aegris ,ploratus1 mortis comites et funeris atri4 ,footnote3 ,id4 i4 ii4 #ehg4 ,no night ensued day light2 no morning followed night1 ,which heard not moaning mixt with sick-mens groaning1 ,with deaths and funerals joyned was that moaning4 ,to what end recoile you from it1 if you cannot goe backe4 ,you have seene many who have found good in death1 ending thereby many many miseries4 ,but have you seene any that hath received hurt thereby8 ,therefore it is meere simplicitie to condemne a thing you never approve1 neither by yourselfe nor any other4 ,why doest thou complaine of me and of destinie8 ,doe we offer thee any wrong8 is it for thee to direct us1 or for us to governe thee8 ,although thy age be not come to her period1 thy life is4 ,a little man is a whole man as well as a great man4 ,neither men nor their lives are measured by the ,ell4 ,chiron refused immortalitie1 being informed of the conditions thereof1 even by the ,god of time and of continuance1 ,saturne his father4 ,imagine truly how much an ever-during life would be lesse tolerable and more painfull to a man1 than is the life which ,i have given him4 ,had you not death you would then uncessantly curse1 and cry out against me1 that ,i had deprived you of it4 ,i have of purpose and unwittingly blended some bitternesse amongst it1 that so seeing the commoditie of its use1 ,i might hinder you from over- greedily embracing1 or indiscreetly calling for it4 ,to continue in this moderation that is1 neither to fly from life nor to run to death 7which ,i require of you7 ,i have tempered both the one and other betweene sweetnes and sowrenes4 ,i first taught ,thales1 the chiefest of your ,sages and ,wisemen1 that to live and die were indifferent1 which made him answer one very wisely1 who asked him wherefore he died not3 ,because1 said he1 it is indifferent4 ,the water1 the earth1 the aire1 the fire1 and other members of this my universe1 are no more the instruments of thy life than of thy death4 ,why fearest thou thy last day8 ,he is no more guiltie1 and conferreth no more to thy death1 than any of the others4 ,it is not the last step that causeth weariness3 it only declares it4 ,all daies march towards death1 only the last comes to it4 ,behold heere the good precepts of our universall mother ,nature4 ,i have oftentimes bethought my self whence it proceedeth1 that in times of warre1 the visage of death 7whether wee see it in us or in others7 seemeth without all comparison much lesse dreadful and terrible unto us1 than in our houses1 or in our beds1 otherwise it should be an armie of ,physitians and whiners1 and she ever being one1 there must needs bee much more assurance amongst countrie-people and of base condition1 than in others4 ,i verily believe1 these fearefull lookes1 and astonishing countenances wherewith we encompass it1 are those that more amaze and terrifie us than death3 a new forme of life2 the out cries of mothers2 the wailing of women and children2 the visitation of dismaid and swouning friends2 the assistance of a number of pale-looking1 distracted1 and whining servants2 a darke chamber2 tapers burning round about2 our couch beset round with ,physitians and ,preachers2 and to conclude1 nothing but horror and astonishment on every side of us3 are wee not already dead and buried8 ,the very children are afraid of their friends1 when they see them masked2 and so are we4 ,the maske must as well be taken from things as from men1 which being removed1 we shall find nothing hid under it1 but the very same death1 that a seely,footnote3 weak1 simple varlet1 or a simple maid-servant1 did latterly suffer without amazement or feare4 ,happie is that death which takes all leasure from the preparations of such an equipage4 ,,of ,,the ,,institution ,,and ,,education ,,of ,,children2 ,,to ,,the ,,ladie ,,diana ,,of ,,foix1 ,,countesse ,,of ,,gurson ,i never knew father1 how crooked and deformed soever his sonne were1 that would either altogether cast him off1 or not acknowledge him for his owne3 and yet 7unlesse he be meerely besotted or blinded in his affection7 it may not be said1 but he plainly perceiveth his defects1 and hath a feeling of his imperfections4 ,but so it is1 he is his owne4 ,so it is in my selfe4 ,i see better than any man else1 that what ,i have set downe is nought but the fond imaginations of him who in his youth hath tasted nothing but the paring1 and seen but the superficies of true learning3 whereof he hath retained but a generall and shapelesse forme3 a smacke of every thing in generall1 but nothing to the purpose in particular3 ,after the ,french manner4 ,to be short1 ,i know there is an art of ,phisicke2 a course of lawes2 foure parts of the ,mathematikes2 and ,i am not altogether ignorant what they tend unto4 ,and perhaps ,i also know the scope and drift of ,sciences in generall to be for the service of our life4 ,but to wade further1 or that ever ,i tired my selfe with plodding upon ,aristotle 7the ,monarch of our moderne doctrine #a7 or obstinately continued in search of any one science3 ,i confesse ,i never did it4 ,nor is there any one art whereof ,i am able so much as to draw the first lineaments4 ,and there is no scholler 7be he of the lowest forme7 that may not repute himselfe wiser than ,i1 who am not able to oppose him in his first lesson3 and if ,i be forced to it1 ,i am constrained verie impertinently to draw in matter from some generall discourse1 whereby ,i examine1 and give a guesse at his naturall judgement3 a lesson as much unknowne to them as theirs is to me4 ,i have not dealt or had commerce with any excellent booke1 except ,plutarke or ,seneca1 from whom 7as the ,danaides7 ,i draw my water1 uncessantly filling1 and as fast emptying3 some thing whereof ,i fasten to this paper1 but to my selfe nothing at all4 ,and touching bookes3 ,historie is my chiefe studie1 ,poesie my only delight1 to which ,i am particularly affected3 for as ,cleanthes said1 that as the voice being forciblie pent in the narrow gullet of a trumpet1 at last issueth forth more strong and shriller1 so me seemes1 that a sentence cunningly and closely couched in measure keeping ,posie1 darts it selfe forth more furiously1 and wounds me even to the quicke4 ,and concerning the naturall faculties that are in me 7whereof behold here an essay71 ,i perceive them to faint under their owne burthen2 my conceits1 ,footnote3 ,ideas4 and my judgement march but uncertaine1 and as it were groping1 staggering1 and stumbling at every rush3 ,and when ,i have gone as far as ,i can1 ,i have no whit pleased my selfe3 for the further ,i saile the more land ,i descrie1 and that so dimmed with fogges1 and overcast with clouds1 that my sight is so weakned1 ,i cannot distinguish the same4 ,and then undertaking to speake indifferently of all that presents it selfe unto my fantasie1 and having nothing but mine owne naturall meanes to imploy therein1 if it be my hap 7as commonly it is7 among good ,authors1 to light upon those verie places which ,i have undertaken to treat off1 as even now ,i did in ,plutarke reading his discourse of the power of imagination1 wherein in regard of those wise men1 ,i acknowledge my selfe so weake and so poore1 so dull and grose-headed1 as ,i am forced both to pittie and disdaine my selfe1 yet am ,i pleased with this1 that my opinions have often the grace to jump with theirs1 and that ,i follow them a loofe-off1 ,footnote3 ,at a distance4 and thereby possesse at least1 that which all other men have not2 which is1 that ,i know the utmost difference betweene them and my selfe3 all which notwithstanding1 ,i suffer my inventions to run abroad1 as weake and faint as ,i have produced them1 without bungling and botching the faults which this comparison hath discovered to me in them4 ,a man had need have a strong backe1 to undertake to march foot to foot with these kind of men4 ,the indiscreet writers of our age1 amidst their triviall ,footnote3 ,commonplace4 compositions1 intermingle and wrest in whole sentences taken from ancient ,authors1 supposing by such filching-theft to purchase honour and reputation to themselves1 doe cleane contrarie4 ,for1 this infinite varietie and dissemblance of lustres1 makes a face so wan1 so il-favored1 and so uglie1 in respect of theirs1 that they lose much more than gaine thereby4 ,these were two contrarie humours3 ,the ,philosopher ,chrisippus was wont to foist-in amongst his bookes1 not only whole sentences and other long-long discourses1 but whole bookes of other ,authors1 as in one1 he brought in ,euripides his ,medea4 ,and ,apollodorus was wont to say of him1 that if one should draw from out his bookes what he had stolne from others1 his paper would remaine blanke4 ,whereas ,epicurus cleane contrarie to him in three hundred volumes he left behind him1 had not made use of one allegation4 ,footnote3 ,citation4 ,it was my fortune not long since to light upon such a place3 ,i had languishingly traced after some ,french words1 so naked and shallow1 and so void either of sense or matter1 that at last ,i found them to be nought but meere ,french words2 and after a tedious and wearisome travell1 ,i chanced to stumble upon an high1 rich1 and even to the clouds-raised piece1 the descent whereof had it been somewhat more pleasant or easie1 or the ascent reaching a little further1 it had been excusable1 and to be borne with-all2 but it was such a steepie downe-fall1 and by meere strength hewen out of the maine rocke1 that by reading of the first six words1 me thought ,i was carried into another world3 whereby ,i perceive the bottome whence ,i came to be so low and deep1 as ,i durst never more adventure to go through it2 for1 if ,i did stuffe any one of my discourses with those rich spoiles1 it would manifestly cause the sottishnesse ,footnote3 ,foolishness4 of others to appeare4 ,to reprove mine owne faults in others1 seemes to me no more unsufferable than to reprehend 7as ,i doe often7 those of others in my selfe4 ,they ought to be accused every where1 and have all places of ,sanctuarie taken from them3 yet do ,i know how over boldly1 at all times ,i adventure to equall my selfe unto my filchings1 and to march hand in hand with them2 not without a fond hardie hope1 that ,i may perhaps be able to bleare the eyes of the ,judges from discerning them4 ,but it is as much for the benefit of my application1 as for the good of mine invention and force4 ,and ,i doe not furiously front1 and bodie to bodie wrestle with those old champions3 it is but by flights1 advantages1 and false offers ,i seek to come within them1 and if ,i can1 to give them a fall4 ,i do not rashly take them about the necke1 ,i doe but touch them1 nor doe ,i go so far as by my bargaine ,i would seeme to doe2 could ,i but keepe even with them1 ,i should then be an honest man2 for ,i seeke not to venture on them1 but where they are strongest4 ,to doe as ,i have seen some1 that is1 to shroud themselves under other armes1 not daring so much as to show their fingers ends unarmed1 and to botch up all their works 7as it is an easie matter in a common subject1 namely for the wiser sort7 with ancient inventions1 here and there hudled up together4 ,and in those who endeavoured to hide what they have filched from others1 and make it their owne1 it is first a manifest note of injustice1 then a plaine argument of cowardlinesse2 who having nothing of any worth in themselves to make show of1 will yet under the countenance of others sufficiencie goe about to make a faire offer3 ,moreover 7oh great foolishnesse7 to seek by such cosening ,footnote3 ,cheating4 tricks to forestall the ignorant approbation of the common sort1 nothing fearing to discover their ignorance to men of understanding 7whose praise only is of value7 who will soone trace out such borrowed ware4 ,as for me1 there is nothing ,i will doe lesse4 ,i never speake of others1 but that ,i may the more speake of my selfe4 ,this concerneth not those mingle-mangles of many kinds of stuffe1 or as the ,grecians call them ,rapsodies1 that for such are published1 of which kind ,i have 7since ,i came to yeares of discretion7 seen divers most ingenious and wittie2 amongst others1 one under the name of ,capilupus2 besides many of the ancient stampe4 ,these are wits of such excellence1 as both here and elsewhere they will soone be perceived1 as our late famous writer ,lipsius1 in his learned and laborious work of the ,politikes3 yet whatsoever come of it1 for so much as they are but follies1 my intent is not to smother them1 no more than a bald and hoarie picture of mine1 where a ,painter hath drawne not a perfect visage1 but mine owne4 ,for1 howsoever1 these are but my humors and opinions1 and ,i deliver them but to show what my conceit ,footnote3 notion is1 and not what ought to be beleeved4 ,wherein ,i ayme at nothing but to display my selfe1 who peradventure 7if a new prentiship change me7 shall be another to morrow4 ,i have no authoritie to purchase beliefe1 neither do ,i desire it2 knowing well that ,i am not sufficiently taught to instruct others4 ,some having read my precedent ,chapter ,footnote3 ,of ,pedantism1 told me not long since in mine owne house1 ,i should somewhat more have extended my selfe in the discourse concerning the institution of children4 ,now 7,madam7 if there were any sufficiencie in me touching that subject1 ,i could not better employ the same than to bestow it as a present upon that little lad1 which ere long threatneth to make a happie issue from out your honorable woombe2 for 7,madame7 you are too generous to begin with other than a man childe4 ,and having had so great a part in the conduct of your successeful marriage1 ,i may challenge some right and interest in the greatnesse and prosperitie of all that shall proceed from it3 moreover1 the ancient and rightfull possession1 which you from time to time have ever had1 and still have over my service1 urgeth me with more than ordinarie respects1 to wish all honour1 well-fare and advantage to whatsoever may in any sort concerne you and yours4 ,and truly1 my meaning is but to show that the greatest difficultie1 and importing all humane knowledge1 seemeth to be in this point1 where the nurture and institution of young children is in question4 ,for1 as in matters of husbandrie1 the labor that must be used before sowing1 setting1 and planting1 yea in planting itselfe1 is most certaine and easie4 ,but when that which was sowen1 set and planted1 commeth to take life2 before it come to ripenesse1 much adoe1 and great varietie of proceeding belongeth to it4 ,so in men1 it is no great matter to get them1 but being borne1 what continuall cares1 what diligent attendance1 what doubts and feares1 doe daily wait to their parents and tutors1 before they can be nurtured and brought to any good8 ,the fore-shew of their inclination whilest they are young is so uncertaine1 their humours so variable1 their promises so changing1 their hopes so false1 and their proceedings so doubtful1 that it is very hard 7yea for the wisest7 to ground any certaine judgment1 or assured successe upon them4 ,behold ,cymon1 view ,themistocles1 and a thousand others1 how they have differed1 and fallen to better from themselves1 and deceive the expectation of such as knowe them4 ,the young whelps both of ,dogges and ,beares at first sight shew their naturall disposition1 but men headlong embracing this custome or fashion1 following that humor or opinion1 admitting this or that passion1 allowing of that or this law1 are easily changed1 and soone disguised2 yet it is hard to force the naturall propension or readinesse of the mind1 whereby it followeth1 that for want of heedie fore-sight in those that could not guide their course well1 they often employ much time in vaine1 to addresse young children in those matters whereunto they are not naturally addicted4 ,all which difficulties notwithstanding1 mine opinion is1 to bring them up in the best and profitablest studies1 and that a man should slightly passe over those fond presages1 and deceiving prognostikes1 which we over precisely gather in their infancie4 ,and 7without offence be it said7 me thinks that ,plato in his ,commonwealth allowed them too- too much authoritie4 ,madame1 ,learning joyned with true knowledge is an especiall and gracefull ornament1 and an implement of wonderful use and consequence1 namely1 in persons raised to that degree of fortune wherein you are4 ,and in good truth1 learning hath not her owne true forme1 nor can she make shew of her beauteous lineaments1 if she fall into the hands of base and vile persons4 ,for1 as famous ,torquato ,tasso saith3 ,philosophie being a rich and noble ,queene1 and knowing her owne worth1 graciously smileth upon and lovingly embraceth ,princes and noble men1 if they become suiters to her1 admitting them as her minions1 and gently affoording them all the favours she can2 whereas upon the contrarie1 if she be wooed1 and sued unto by clownes1 mechanicall fellowes1 and such base kind of people1 she holds herselfe disparaged and disgraced1 as holding no proportion with them4 ,and therefore see we by experience1 that if a true ,gentleman or nobleman follow her with any attention1 and woo her with importunitie1 he shall learne and know more of her1 and prove a better scholler in one yeare1 than an ungentle or base fellow shall in seven1 though he pursue her never so attentively4 ,she is much more readie and fierce to lend her furtherance and direction in the conduct of a warre1 to attempt honourable actions1 to command a people1 to treat a peace with a prince of forraine nation1 than she is to forme an argument in ,logick1 to devise a ,syllogisme1 to canvase a case at the barre1 or to prescribe a receit of pills4 ,so 7noble ,ladie7 forsomuch as ,i cannot perswade myselfe1 that you will either forget or neglect this point1 concerning the institution of yours1 especially having tasted the sweetnesse thereof1 and being descended of so noble and learned a race4 ,for we yet possesse the learned compositions of the ancient and noble ,earles of ,foix1 from out whose heroicke loynes your husband and you take your of-spring4 ,and ,francis ,lord of ,candale1 your worthie uncle1 doth daily bring forth such fruits thereof1 as the knowledge of the matchlesse qualitie of your house shall hereafter extend itselfe to many ages2 ,i will therefore make you acquainted with one conceit of mine1 which contrarie to the common use ,i hold1 and that is all ,i am able to affoord you concerning that matter4 ,the charge of the ,tutor1 which you shall appoint your sonne1 in the choice of whom consisteth the whole substance of his education and bringing up2 on which are many branches depending1 which 7forasmuch as ,i can adde nothing of any moment to it7 ,i will not touch at all4 ,and for that point1 wherein ,i presume to advise him1 he may so far forth give credit unto it1 as he shall see just cause4 ,to a gentleman borne of noble parentage1 and heire of a house that aymeth at true learning1 and in it would be disciplined1 not so much for gane or commoditie to himselfe 7because so abject an end is far unworthie the grace and favour of the ,muses1 and besides1 hath a regard or dependencie of others7 nor for externall shew and ornament1 but to adorne and enrich his inward minde1 desiring rather to shape and institute an able and sufficient man1 than a bare learned man2 my desire is therefore1 that the parents or overseers of such a gentleman be very circumspect1 and careful in chusing his director1 whom ,i would rather commend for having a well composed and temperate braine1 than a full stuft head1 yet both will doe well4 ,and ,i would rather prefer wisdome1 judgement1 civill customes1 and modest behaviour1 than bare and meere literall learning2 and that in his charge he hold a new course4 ,some never cease brawling in their schollers eares 7as if they were still pouring in a tonell7 to follow their booke1 yet is their charge nothing else but to repeat what hath beene told them before4 ,i would have a tutor to correct this part1 and that at first entrance1 according to the capacitie of the wit he hath in hand1 he should begin to make shew of it1 making him to have a smacke of all things1 and how to choose and distinguish them1 without helpe of others1 sometimes opening him the way1 other times leaving him to open it by himselfe4 ,i would not have him to invent and speake alone1 but suffer his disciple to speake when his turne commeth4 ,socrates1 and after him ,arcesilaus1 made their schollers to speake first1 and then would speake themselves4 ,obest plerumque iis qui discere volunt1 auctoritas eorum qui docent3 ,footnote3 ,,cic4 ,de ,nat4 #a4 i ,most commonly the authoritie of them that teach1 hinders them that would learne4 ,it is therefore meet that he make him first trot-on before him1 whereby he may the better judge of his pace1 and so guesse how long he will hold out1 that accordingly he may fit his strength2 for want of which proportion we often marre all4 ,and to know how to make a good choice1 and how far forth one may proceed 7still keeping a due measure71 is one of the hardest labours ,i know4 ,it is a signe of a noble1 and effect of an undanted spirit1 to know how to second1 and how far forth he shall condescend to his childish proceedings1 and how to guide them4 ,as for myselfe1 ,i can better and with more strength walke up than downe a hill4 ,those which1 according to our common fashion1 undertake with one selfe-same lesson1 and like maner of education1 to direct many spirits of divers formes and different humours1 it is no marvell if among a multitude of children1 they scarce meet with two or three that reap any good fruit by their discipline1 or that come to any perfection4 ,i would not only have him to demand an accompt of the words contained in his lesson1 but of the sense and substance thereof1 and judge of the profit he hath made of it1 not by the testimonie of his memorie1 but by the witnesse of his life4 ,that what he lately learned1 he cause him to set forth and pourtray the same into sundrie shapes1 and then to accommodate it to as many different and severall subjects1 whereby he shal perceive1 whether he have yet apprehended the same1 and therein enfeoffed himselfe1 ,footnote3 ,taken possession4 at due times taking his instruction from the institution given by ,plato4 ,it is a signe of cruditie and indigestion for a man to yeeld up his meat1 even as he swallowed the same2 the stomacke hath not wrought his full operation1 unlesse it have changed forme1 and altered fashion of that which was given him to boyle and concoct4 ,wee see men gape after no reputation but learning1 and when they say1 such a one is a learned man1 they thinke they have said enough2 ,our minde doth move at others pleasure1 and tyed and forced to serve the fantasies of others1 being brought under by authoritie1 and forced to stoope to the lure of their bare lesson2 wee have beene so subjected to harpe upon one string1 that we have no way left us to descant upon voluntarie2 our vigor and libertie is cleane extinct4 ,nunquam tutelae suae fiunt3 ,they never come to their owne tuition4 ,it was my hap to bee familiarlie acquainted with an honest man at ,pisa1 but such an ,aristotelian1 as he held this infallible position2 that a conformitie to ,aristotles doctrine was the true touchstone and squire ,footnote3 ,square4 of all solid imaginations and perfect veritie2 for1 whatsoever had no coherencie with it1 was but fond ,chimeraes and idle humors2 inasmuch as he had knowne all1 seene all1 and said all4 ,this proposition of his being somewhat over amply and injuriously interpreted by some1 made him a long time after to be troubled in the inquisition of ,rome4 ,i would have him make his scholler narrowly to sift all things with discretion1 and harbour nothing in his head by mere authoritie1 or upon trust4 ,aristotles principles shall be no more axiomes unto him1 than the ,stoikes or ,epicurians4 ,let this diversitie of judgements be proposed unto him1 if he can1 he shall be able to distinguish the truth from falsehood1 if not1 he will remaine doubtful4 ,che non men che saper dubbiar m'aggrata4 ,footnote3 ,,dante1 ,inferno1 cant4 xi4 #ic4 ,no lesse it pleaseth me1 ,to doubt1 than wise to be4 ,for if by his owne discourse he embrace the opinions of ,xenophon or of ,plato1 they shall be no longer theirs1 but his4 ,he that meerely followeth another1 traceth nothing1 and seeketh nothing3 ,non sumus sub ,rege1 sibi quisque se vindicet3 ,footnote3 ,,sen4 ,epist4 xxxiii4 ,we are not under a ,kings command1 every one may challenge himselfe1 for let him at least know that he knoweth4 ,it is requisite he endevour as much to feed himselfe with their conceits1 as labour to learne their precepts2 which1 so he know how to applie1 let him hardily forget1 where or whence he had them4 ,truth and reason are common to all1 and are no more proper unto him that spake them heretofore1 then unto him that shall speake them hereafter4 ,and it is no more according to ,platoes opinion than to mine1 since both he and ,i understand and see alike4 ,the ,bees do here and there sucke this and cull that flower1 but afterward they produce the hony1 which is peculiarly their owne1 then is it no more ,thyme or ,majoram4 ,so of peeces borrowed of others1 he may lawfully alter1 transforme1 and confound them1 to shape out of them a perfect peece of worke1 altogether his owne2 alwaies provided his judgement1 his travell1 ,footnote3 ,travail1 labor4 studie1 and institution tend to nothing1 but to frame the same perfect4 ,let him hardily conceale where or whence he hath had any helpe1 and make no shew of anything1 but of that which he hath made himselfe4 ,pirates1 pilchers1 and borrowers1 make a shew of their purchases and buildings1 but not of that which they have taken from others3 you see not the secret fees or bribes ,lawyers take of their ,clients1 but you shall manifestly discover the alliances they make1 the honours they get for their children1 and the goodly houses they build4 ,no man makes open shew of his receits1 but every one of his gettings4 ,the good that comes of studie 7or at least should come7 is to prove better1 wiser and honester4 ,it is the understanding power 7said ,epicharmus7 that seeth and heareth1 it is it that profiteth all and disposeth all1 that moveth1 swayeth1 and ruleth all3 all things else are but blind1 senselesse1 and without spirit4 ,and truly in barring him of libertie to doe any thing of himselfe1 we make him thereby more servile and more coward4 ,who would ever enquire of his scholler what he thinketh of ,rhetorike1 of ,grammar1 of this or of that sentence of ,cicero8 ,which things thoroughly fethered 7as if they were oracles7 are let flie into our memorie2 in which both letters and syllables are substantiall parts of the subject4 ,to know by roat is no perfect knowledge1 but to keep what one hath committed to his memories charge1 is commendable3 what a man directly knoweth1 that will he dispose of1 without turning still to his booke or looking to his pattern4 ,a meere bookish sufficiencie is unpleasant4 ,all ,i expect of it is an imbellishing of my actions1 and not a foundation of them1 according to ,platoes mind1 who saith1 constancie1 faith1 and sinceritie are true ,philosophie2 as for other ,sciences1 and tending elsewhere1 they are but garish paintings4 ,i would faine have ,paluel or ,pompey1 those two excellent dauncers of our time1 with all their nimblenesse1 teach any man to doe their loftie tricks and high capers1 only with seeing them done1 and without stirring out of his place1 as some ,pedanticall fellowes would instruct our minds without moving or putting it in practice4 ,and glad would ,i be to find one that would teach us how to manage a horse1 to tosse a pike1 to shoot-off a peece1 to play upon the lute1 or to warble with the voice1 without any exercise1 as these kind of men would teach us to judge1 and how to speake well1 without any exercise of speaking or judging4 ,in which kind of life1 or as ,i may terme it1 ,prentiship1 what action or object soever presents itselfe into our eies1 may serve us in stead of a sufficient booke4 ,a prettie pranke of a boy1 a knavish tricke of a page1 a foolish part of a lackey1 an idle tale or any discourse else1 spoken either in jest or earnest1 at the table or in companie1 are even as new subjects for us to worke upon3 for furtherance whereof1 commerce or common societie among men1 visiting of forraine countries1 and observing of strange fashions1 are verie necessary1 not only to be able 7after the manner of our yong gallants of ,france7 to report how many paces the ,church of ,santa ,rotonda is in length or breadth1 or what rich garments the curtezan ,signora ,livia weareth1 and the worth of her hosen2 or as some do1 nicely to dispute how much longer or broader the face of ,nero is1 which they have seene in some old ruines of ,italie1 than that which is made for him in other old monuments else-where4 ,but they should principally observe1 and be able to make certaine relation of the humours and fashions of those countries they have seene1 that they may the better know how to correct and prepare their wits by those of others4 ,i would therefore have him begin even from his infancie to travell abroad2 and first1 that at one shoot he may hit two markes he should see neighbour- countries1 namely where languages are most different from ours2 for1 unlesse a mans tongue be fashioned unto them in his youth1 he shall never attaine to the true pronunciation of them if he once grow in yeares4 ,moreover1 we see it received as a common opinion of the wiser sort1 that it agreeth not with reason1 that a childe be alwaies nuzzled1 cockered1 dandled1 and brought up in his parents lap or sight2 forsomuch as their naturall kindnesse1 or 7as ,i may call it7 tender fondnesse1 causeth often1 even the wisest to prove so idle1 so over-nice1 and so base-minded4 ,for parents are not capable1 neither can they find in their hearts to see them checkt1 corrected1 or chastised1 nor indure to see them brought up so meanly1 and so far from daintinesse1 and many times so dangerously1 as they must needs be4 ,and it would grieve them to see their children come home from those exercises1 that a ,gentleman must necessarily acquaint himselfe with1 sometimes all wet and bemyred1 other times sweatie and full of dust1 and to drinke being either extreme hot or exceeding cold2 and it would trouble them to see him ride a rough-untamed horse1 or with his weapon furiously incounter a skilful ,fencer1 or to handle or shoot-off a musket2 against which there is no remedy1 if he will make him prove a sufficient1 compleat1 or honest man3 he must not be spared in his youth2 and it will come to passe1 that he shall many times have occasion and be forced to shocke the rules of ,physicke4 ,vitamque sub dio et trepidis agat ,in rebus4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 ,i4 i4 ,od4 ii4 #d4 ,leade he his life in open aire1 ,and in affaires full of despaire4 ,it is not sufficient to make his minde strong1 his muskles must also be strengthened3 the mind is over-borne if it be not seconded3 and it is too much for her alone to discharge two offices4 ,i have a feeling how mine panteth1 being joyned to so tender and sensible ,footnote3 ,sensitive4 a bodie1 and that lieth so heavie upon it ,and in my lecture1 ,i often perceive how my ,authors in their writings sometimes commend examples for magnanimitie and force1 that rather proceed from a thicke skin and hardnes of the bones4 ,i have knowne men1 women and children borne of so hard a constitution1 that a blow with a cudgell would lesse hurt them1 than a filip would doe me1 and so dull and blockish1 that they will neither stir tongue nor eyebrowes1 beat them never so much4 ,when wrestlers goe about to counterfeit the ,philosophers patience1 they rather shew the vigor of their sinnewes than of their heart4 ,for the custome to beare travell1 is to tolerate griefe3 ,labor callum obducit dolori4 ,footnote3 ,cic4 ,tusc4 ,qu4 ,i4 ii4 ,labour worketh a hardnesse upon sorrow4 ,hee must be enured to suffer the paine and hardnesse of exercises1 that so he may be induced to endure the paine of the colicke1 of cauterie1 of fals1 of sprains1 and other diseases incident to mans bodie3 yea1 if need require1 patiently to beare imprisonment and other tortures1 by which sufferance he shall come to be had in more esteeme and accompt3 for according to time and place1 the good as well as the bad man may haply fall into them2 we have seen it by experience4 ,whosoever striveth against the lawes1 threats good men with mischiefe and extortion4 ,moreover1 the authoritie of the ,tutor 7who should be soveraigne over him7 is by the cockering and presence of the parents1 hindred and interrupted3 besides the awe and respect which the houshold beares him1 and the knowledge of the meane1 possibilities1 and greatnesse of his house1 are in my judgement no small lets ,footnote3 ,hindrances4in a young ,gentleman4 ,in this schoole of commerce1 and societie among men1 ,i have often noted this vice1 that in lieu of taking acquaintance of others1 we only endevour to make our selves knowne to them3 and we are more ready to utter such merchandize as we have1 than to ingrosse and purchase new commodities4 ,silence and modestie are qualities very convenient to civil conversation4 ,it is also necessary that a young man be rather taught to be discreetly-sparing and close-handed1 than prodigally-wastfull and lavish in his expences1 and moderate in husbanding his wealth when he shall come to possesse it4 ,and not to take pepper in the nose for every foolish tale that shall be spoken in his presence1 because it is an uncivil importunity to contradict whatsoever is not agreeing to our humour3 let him be pleased to correct himselfe4 ,and let him not seeme to blame that in others which he refuseth to doe himselfe1 nor goe about to withstand common fashions1 ,licet sapere sine pompa1 sine invidia3 ,footnote3 ,,sen4 ,epist4 ciii4 f4 ,a man may bee wise without ostentation1 without envie4 ,let him avoid those imperious images of the world1 those uncivil behaviours and childish ambition wherewith1 ,god wot1 too-too many are possest3 that is1 to make a faire shew of that which is not in him3 endevouring to be reputed other than indeed he is2 and as if reprehension and new devices were hard to come by1 he would by that meane acquire into himselfe the name of some peculiar vertue4 ,as it pertaineth but to great ,poets to use the libertie of arts2 so is it tolerable but in noble minds and great spirits to have a preheminence above ordinarie fashions4 ,si quid ,socrates et ,aristippus contra morem et consuetudinem fecerunt1 idem sibi ne arbitretur licere3 ,magis enim illi et divinis bonis hanc licentiam assequebantur3 ,footnote3 ,,cic4 ,off4 #a4 i4 ,if ,socrates and ,aristippus have done ought against custome or good manner1 let not a man thinke he may doe the same3 for they obtained this licence by their great and excellent good parts3 ,he shall be taught not to enter rashly into discourse or contesting1 but when he shall encounter with a ,champion worthie his strength2 ,and then would ,i not have him imploy all the tricks that may fit his turne1 but only such as may stand him in most stead4 ,that he be taught to be curious in making choice of his reasons1 loving pertinency1 and by consequence brevitie4 ,that above all1 he be instructed to yeeld1 yea to quit his weapons unto truth1 as soone as he shall discerne the same1 whether it proceed from his adversarie1 or upon better advice from himselfe2 for he shall not be preferred to any place of eminencie above others1 for repeating of a prescript ,footnote3 ,fixed beforehand4 part2 and he is not engaged to defend any cause1 further than he may approove it2 nor shall he bee of that trade where the libertie for a man to repent and re-advise himselfe is sold for readie money1 ,neque1 ut omnia1 que praescripta et imperata sint1 defendat1 necessitate ulla cogitur3 ,footnote3 ,,cic4 ,acad4 ,qu4 ,i4 iv4 ,nor is he inforced by any necessitie to defend and make good all that is prescribed and commanded him4 ,if his tutor agree with my humour1 he shall frame his affection to be a most loyall and true subject to his ,prince1 and a most affectionate and couragious ,gentleman in al that may concerne the honor of his ,soveraigne or the good of his countrie1 and endevour to suppresse in him all manner of affection to undertake any action ,otherwise than for a publike good and dutie4 ,besides many inconveniences1 which greatly prejudice our libertie by reason of these particular bonds1 the judgment of a man that is waged and bought1 either it is lesse free and honest1 or else it is blemisht with oversight and ingratitude4 ,a meere and precise ,courtier can neither have law nor will to speake or thinke otherwise than favourablie of his ,master1 who among so many thousands of his subjects hath made choice of him alone1 to institute and bring him up with his owne hand4 ,these favours1 with the commodities that follow minion ,footnote3 ,favorite4 ,courtiers1 corrupt 7not without some colour of reason7 his libertie1 and dazle his judgement4 ,it is therefore commonly scene that the ,courtiers- language differs from other mens1 in the same state1 and to be of no great credit in such matters4 ,let therefore his conscience and vertue shine in his speech1 and reason be his chiefe direction1 ,let him be taught to confesse such faults as he shall discover in his owne discourses1 albeit none other perceive them but himselfe2 for it is an evident shew of judgement1 and effect of sinceritie1 which are the chiefest qualities he aymeth at4 ,that wilfully to strive1 and obstinately to contest in words1 are common qualities1 most apparent in basest mindes3 ,that to readvise and correct himselfe1 and when one is most earnest1 to leave an ill opinion1 are rare1 noble1 and ,philosophicall conditions4 ,being in companie1 he shall be put in minde1 to cast his eyes round about1 and every where3 ,for ,i note1 that the chiefe places are usually seezed upon by the most unworthie and lesse capable2 and that height of fortune is seldome joyned with sufficiencie4 ,i have scene that whilst they at the upper end of a board were busie entertaining themselves with talking of the beautie of the hangings about a chamber1 or of the taste of some good cup of wine1 many good discourses at the lower end have utterly been lost4 ,he shall weigh the carriage of every man in his calling1 a ,heardsman1 a ,mason1 a ,stranger1 or a ,traveller2 all must be imployed2 every one according to his worth2 for all helps to make up houshold2 yea1 the follie and the simplicitie of others shall be as instructions to him4 ,by controlling the graces and manners of others1 he shall acquire unto himselfe envie of the good and contempt of the bad4 ,let him hardly be possest with an honest curiositie to search out the nature and causes of all things3 let him survay whatsoever is rare and singular about him2 a building1 a fountaine1 a man1 a place where any battell hath been fought1 or the passages of ,caesar or ,charlemaine4 ,quae tellus sit lenta gelu1 qua putris ab aestu1 ,ventus in ,italiam quis bene vela ferat4 ,footnote3 ,prop4 #a4 iv4 ,el4 iii4 #ci4 ,what land is parcht with heat1 what clog'd with frost4 ,what wind drives kindly to th' ,italian coast4 ,he shall endevour to be familiarly acquainted with the customes1 with the meanes1 with the state1 with the dependances and alliances of all ,princes2 they are things soone and pleasant to be learned1 and most profitable to be knowne4 ,in this acquaintance of men1 my intending is1 that hee chiefely comprehend them1 that live but by the memorie of bookes4 ,he shall1 by the help of ,histories1 in forme himselfe of the worthiest minds that were in the best ages4 ,it is a frivolous studie1 if a man list1 but of unvaluable worth to such as can make use of it1 and as ,plato saith1 the only studie the ,lacedemonians reserved for themselves4 ,what profit shall he not reap1 touching this point1 reading the lives of our ,plutark8 ,alwayes conditioned1 the master bethinke himselfe whereto his charge tendeth1 and that he imprint not so much in his schollers mind the date of the ruine of ,carthage1 as the manners of ,hanniball and ,scipio1 nor so much where ,marcellus died1 as because he was unworthy of his devoire ,footnote3 ,task4 he died there3 that he teach him not so much to know ,histories as to judge of them4 ,it is amongst things that best agree with my humour1 the subject to which our spirits doe most diversly applie themselves4 ,i have read in ,titus ,livius a number of things1 which peradventure others never read1 in whom ,plutarke haply read a hundred more than ever ,i could read1 and which perhaps the author himselfe did never intend to set downe4 ,to some kind of men it is a meere gramaticali studie1 but to others a perfect anatomie ,footnote3 ,dissection1 analytical exposition4 of ,philosophie2 by meanes whereof the secretest part of our nature is searched into4 ,there are in ,plutarke many ample discourses most worthy to be knowne3 for in my judgement1 he is the chiefe work- master of such works1 whereof there are a thousand1 whereat he hath but slightly glanced2 for with his finger he doth but point us out a way to walke in1 if we list2 and is sometimes pleased to give but a touch at the quickest and maine point of a discourse1 from whence they are by diligent studie to be drawne1 and so brought into open market4 ,as that saying of his1 ,that the inhabitants of ,asia served but one alone1 because they could not pronounce one onely syllable1 which is ,non1 gave perhaps both subject and occasion to my friend ,boetie to compose his booke of voluntarie servitude4 ,if it were no more but to see ,plutarke wrest a slight action to mans life1 or a word that seemeth to beare no such sence1 it will serve for a whole discourse4 ,it is pittie men of understanding should so much love brevitie2 without doubt their reputation is thereby better1 but we the worse4 ,plutarke had rather we should commend him for his judgement than for his knowledge1 he loveth better to leave a kind of longing-desire in us of him1 than a satietie4 ,he knew verie well that even in good things too much may be said3 and that ,alexandridas did justly reprove him who spake verie good sentences to the ,ephores1 but they were over tedious4 ,oh stranger1 quoth he1 thou speakest what thou oughtest1 otherwise then ,footnote3 ,than4 thou shouldest4 ,those that have leane and thin bodies stuffe them up with bumbasting4 ,footnote3 ,padding4 ,and such as have but poore matter1 will puffe it up with loftie words4 ,there is a marvelous cleerenesse1 or as ,i may terme it an enlightning of mans judgement drawne from the commerce of men1 and by frequenting abroad in the world2 we are all so contrived and compact in our selves1 that our sight is made shorter by the length of our nose4 ,when ,socrates was demaunded whence he was1 he answered1 not of ,athens1 but of the world2 for he1 who had his imagination more full and farther stretching1 embraced all the world for his native ,citie1 and extended his acquaintance1 his societie1 and affections to all man- kind3 and not as we do1 that looke no further than our feet4 ,if the frost chance to nip the vines about my village1 my ,priest doth presently argue that the wrath of ,god hangs over our head1 and threatneth all mankind3 and judgeth that the ,pippe ,footnote3 ,a disease4 is alreadie falne upon the ,canibals4 ,in viewing these intestine and civill broiles of ours1 who doth not exclaime1 that this worlds vast frame is neere unto a dissolution1 and that the day of judgement is readie to fall on us8 never remembering that many worse revolutions have been seene1 and that whilest we are plunged in griefe1 and overwhelmed in sorrow1 a thousand other parts of the world besides are blessed with happinesse1 and wallow in pleasures1 and never thinke on us8 whereas1 when ,i behold our lives1 our licence1 and impunitie1 ,i wonder to see them so milde and easie4 ,he on whose head it haileth1 thinks all the ,hemispheare besides to be in a storme and tempest4 ,and as that dull-pated ,savoyard said1 that if the seelie ,footnote #ca3 ,simple4 ,king of ,france could cunningly have managed his fortune1 he might verie well have made himselfe chiefe ,steward of his ,lords household1 whose imagination conceived no other greatnesse than his ,masters2 we are all insensible of this kind of errour3 an errour of great consequence and prejudice4 ,but whosoever shall present unto his inward eyes1 as it were in a ,table1 the ,idea of the great image of our universall mother ,nature1 attired in her richest robes1 sitting in the throne of her ,majestic1 and in her visage shall read so generall and so constant a varietie2 he that therein shall view himselfe1 not himselfe alone1 but a whole ,kingdome1 to be in respect of a great circle but the smallest point that can be imagined1 he onely can value things according to their essentiall greatnesse and proportion4 ,this great universe 7which some multiplie as ,species under one ,genus7 is the true looking-glasse wherein we must looke1 if we will know whether we be of a good stamp or in the right byase4 ,to conclude1 ,i would have this worlds-frame to be my ,schollers choise-booke4 ,footnote3 ,book of examples ,so many strange humours1 sundrie sects1 varying judgements1 diverse opinions1 different lawes1 and fantasticall customes teach us to judge rightly of ours1 and instruct our judgement to acknowledge his imperfections and naturall weaknesse1 which is no easie an apprentiship3 ,so many innovations of estates1 so many fals of ,princes1 and changes of publike fortune1 may and ought to teach us1 not to make so great accompt of ours3 ,so many names1 so many victories1 and so many conquests buried in darke oblivion1 makes the hope to perpetuate our names but ridiculous1 by the surprising of ten ,argo-lettiers1 ,footnote3 ,mounted ,bowmen4 or of a small cottage1 which is knowne but by his fall4 ,the pride and fiercenesse of so many strange and gorgeous shewes3 the pride-puft majestie of so many courts1 and of their greatnesse1 ought to confirme and assure our sight1 undauntedly to beare the affronts and thunder-claps of ours1 without feeling our eyes3 ,so many thousands of men1 lowlaide in their graves afore us1 may encourage us not to feare1 or be dismaied to go meet so good companie in the other world1 and so of all things else4 ,our life 7said ,pithagoras7 drawes neare unto the great and populous assemblies of the ,olympike games1 wherein some1 to get the glorie and to win the goale of the games1 exercise their bodies with all industrie2 others1 for greedinesse of gaine1 bring thither marchandise to sell3 others there are 7and those be not the worst7 that seek after no other good1 but to marke how wherefore1 and to what end1 all things are done3 and to be spectators or observers of other mens lives and actions1 that so they may the better judge and direct their owne4 ,unto examples may all the most profitable ,discourses of ,philosophic be sorted1 which ought to be the touch- stone of human actions1 and a rule to square them by1 to whom may be said1 ---quid fas optare1 quid asper ,vtile nummus habet1 patriae charisque propinquis ,quantum elargiri deceat1 quem te ,deus esse lussit1 et humana qua parte locaius es in re4 ,footnote3 ,pers4 ,sat4 iii4 #fi4 ,quid sumus1 aut quidnam victuri gignimur4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #fg4 ,what thou maiest wish1 what profit may come cleare1 ,from new-stampt coyne1 to friends and countrie deare ,what thou ought'st give3 whom ,god would have thee bee1 ,and in what part mongst men he placed thee4 ,what we are1 and wherefore1 ,to live heer we were bore4 ,what it is to know1 and not to know 7which ought to be the scope of studie71 what valour1 what temperance1 and what justice is3 what difference there is betweene ambition and avarice1 bondage and freedome1 subjection and libertie1 by which markes a man may distinguish true and perfect contentment1 and how far-forth one ought to feare or apprehend death1 griefe1 or shame4 ,et quo quemque modo fugiatque4 feratque laborem4 ,footnote3 ,virg4 ,aen4 #a4 iii4 #hec4 ,how ev'ry labour he may plie1 ,and beare1 or ev'ry labour flie4 ,what wards or springs move us1 and the causes of so many motions in us3 ,for me seemeth1 that the first discourses1 wherewith his conceit should be sprinkled1 ought to be those that rule his manners and direct his sense2 which will both teach him to know himselfe1 and how to live and how to die well4 ,among the liberall ,sciences1 let us begin with that which makes us free3 ,indeed1 they may all1 in some sort stead us1 as an instruction to our life1 and use of it1 as all other things else serve the same to some purpose or other4 ,but let us make especiall choice of that which may directly and pertinently serve the same4 ,if we could restraine and adapt the appurtenances of our life to their right byase and naturall limits1 we should find the best part of the ,sciences that now are in use1 cleane out of fashion with us3 yea1 and in those that are most in use1 there are certaine by-wayes and deep-flows most profitable1 which we should do well to leave1 and according to the institution of ,socrates1 limit the course of our studies in those where profit is wanting4 ----sapere aude1 ,incipe3 vivendi qui recte prorogat horam1 ,rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis1 at ille ,labitur1 et labetur in omne volubilis avum4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 ,i4 i4 ,epist4 ii4 #dj4 ,be bold to be wise3 to begin1 be strong1 ,he that to live well doth the time prolong1 ,clowne-like expects1 till downe the streame be run1 ,that runs1 and will run1 till the world be done4 ,it is mere simplicitie to teach our children1 ,quid moveant ,pisces1 animosaque signa ,leonis1 ,lotus et ,hesperia quid ,capricornus aqua4 ,footnote3 ,prop4 ,i4 ,el4 i4 #he4 ,what ,pisces move1 or hot breath'd ,leos beames1 ,or ,capricornus bath'd in western streames1 the knowledge of the starres1 and the motion of the eighth spheare1 before their owne2 ,greek text quote omited ,footnote3 ,anacr4 ,od4 xvii4 #aj1 #ab4 ,what longs it to the seaven stars1 and me1 ,or those about ,bootes be4 ,anaximenes writing to ,pythagoras1 saith1 ,with what sense can ,i amuse my selfe in the secrets of the ,starres1 having continually death or bondage before mine eyes8 ,for at that time the ,kings of ,persia were making preparations to war against his ,countrie4 ,all men ought to say so3 ,being beaten with ambition1 with avarice1 with rashnesse1 and with superstition1 and having such other enemies unto life within him4 ,wherefore shall ,i study and take care about the mobility and variation of the world8 ,when hee is once taught what is fit to make him better and wiser1 he shall be entertained with ,logicke1 naturall ,philosophy1 ,geometry1 and ,rhetoricke1 then having setled his judgement1 looke what science he doth most addict himselfe unto1 he shall in short time attaine to the perfection of it4 ,his lecture shall be somtimes by way of talke and sometimes by booke3 his tutor may now and then supply him with the same ,author1 as an end and motive of his institution3 sometimes giving him the pith and substance of it ready chewed4 ,and if of himselfe he be not so throughly acquainted with bookes1 that hee may readily find so many notable discourses as are in them to effect his purpose1 it shall not be amisse that some learned man bee appointed to keepe him1 company1 who at any time of need may furnish him with such munition as hee shall stand in need of2 that hee may afterward distribute and dispense them to his best use4 ,and that this kind of lesson be more easie and naturall than that of ,gaza1 who will make question8 ,those are but harsh1 thornie1 and unpleasant precepts2 vaine1 idle and immaterial words1 on which small hold may be taken2 wherein is nothing to quicken the minde4 ,in this the spirit findeth substance to bide and feed upon4 ,a fruit without all comparison much better1 and that will soone be ripe4 ,it is a thing worthy consideration1 to see what state things are brought unto in this our age2 and how ,philosophie1 even to the wisest1 and men of best understanding1 is but an idle1 vaine and fantasticall name1 of small use and lesse worth1 both in opinion and effect4 ,i thinke these ,sophistries are the cause of it1 which have forestalled the wayes to come unto it3 ,they doe very ill that goe about to make it seeme as it were inaccessible for children to come unto1 setting it foorth with a wrimpled ,footnote3 wrinkled4 gastlie1 and frowning visage2 who hath masked her with so counterfet1 pale1 and hideous a countenance8 ,there is nothing more beauteous1 nothing more delightful1 nothing more gamesome2 and as ,i may say1 nothing more fondly wanton3 for she presenteth nothing to our eyes1 and preacheth nothing to our eares1 but sport and pastime4 ,a sad and lowring looke plainly declareth that that is not her haunt4 ,demetrius the ,gramarian1 finding a companie of ,philosophers sitting close together in the ,temple of ,delphos1 said unto them1 ,either ,i am deceived1 or by your plausible and pleasant lookes1 you are not in any serious and earnest discourse amongst your selves2 to whom one of them1 named ,heracleon the ,megarian1 answered1 ,that belongeth to them1 who busie themselves in seeking whether the future tense of the verbe 1 hath a double1 or that labour to find the derivation of the comparatives1 omitted and of the superlatives omitted1 it is they that must chafe in intertaining themselves with their science3 as for discourses of ,philosophie they are wont to glad1 rejoyce1 and not to vex and molest those that use them4 ,deprendas animi tormenta latentis in agro ,corpore1 deprendas et gaudia2 sumit utrumque ,inde habitum facies4 ,footnote3 ,juven1 ,,sat4 ix1 #ah ,you may perceive the torments of the mind1 ,hid in sicke bodie1 you the joyes may find2 ,the face such habit takes in either kind4 ,that mind which harboureth ,philosophie1 ought by reason of her sound health1 make that bodie also sound and healthie3 it ought to make her contentment to through-shine in all exteriour parts3 it ought to shapen and modell all outward demeanours to the modell of it3 and by consequence arme him that doth possesse it1 with a gracious stoutnesse and lively audacite1 with an active and pleasing gesture1 and with a setled and cheerefull countenance4 ,the most evident token and apparant signe of true wisdome is a constant and unconstrained rejoycing1 whose estate is like unto all things above the ,moone1 that is ever cleare1 alwaies bright4 ,it is ,baroco ,footnote3 ,mnemonic words invented by the scholastic logicians and ,baralipton ,footnote3 ,mnemonic words invented by the scholastic logicians1 that makes their followers prove so base and idle1 and not ,philosophie2 they know her not but by heare-say2 what8 ,is it not shee that cleereth all stormes of the mind8 ,and teacheth miserie1 famine1 and sicknesse to laugh8 ,not by reason of some imaginarie ,epicicles ,footnote3 ,a term of the old astronomy41 but by naturall and palpable reasons4 ,shee aymeth at nothing but vertue2 it is vertue shee seekes after2 which as the schoole saith1 is not pitcht on the top of an high1 steepie1 or inaccessible hill2 for they that have come unto her1 affirme that cleane-contrarie shee keeps her stand1 and holds her mansion in a faire1 flourishing1 and pleasant plaine1 whence as from an high watch tower1 she survaieth all things1 to be subject unto her1 to whom any man may with great facilitie come1 if he but know the way or entrance to her palace3 for1 the pathes that lead unto her are certaine fresh and shadie greene allies1 sweet and flowrie waies1 whose ascent is even1 easie1 and nothing wearisome1 like unto that of heavens vaults4 ,forsomuch as they have not frequented this vertue1 who gloriously1 as in a throne of ,majestie sits soveraigne1 goodly1 triumphant1 lovely1 equally delicious1 and couragious1 protesting her selfe to be a professed and irreconcileable enemie to all sharpnesse1 austeritie1 feare1 and compulsion2 having nature for her guide1 fortune and voluptuousnesse for her companions2 they according to their weaknesse have imaginarily fained her1 to have a foolish1 sad1 grim1 quarelous1 spitefull1 threatning1 and disdainfull visage1 with an horride and unpleasant looke2 and have placed her upon a craggie1 sharpe1 and unfrequented rocke1 amidst desert cliffes and uncouth crags1 as a scar-crow1 or bugbeare1 to affright the common people with4 ,now the tutour1 which ought to know that he should rather seek to fill the mind and store the will of his disciple1 as much1 or rather more1 with love and affection1 than with awe1 and reverence unto vertue1 may shew and tell him1 that ,poets follow common humours1 making him plainly to perceive1 and as it were palpably to feele1 that the ,gods have rather placed labour and sweat at the entrances which lead to ,venus chambers1 than at the doores that direct to ,pallas cabinets4 ,and when he shall perceive his scholler to have a sensible feeling of himselfe1 presenting ,bradamant ,footnote3 ,a warlike heroine in ,boiardo's ,orlando ,innamorato and ,ariosto's ,orlando ,furioso4 or ,angelica ,footnote3 ,the faithless princess1 on account of whom ,orlando goes mad1 in the same poems4 before him1 as a ,mistresse to enjoy1 embelished with a naturall1 active1 generous1 and unspotted beautie not uglie or ,giant-like1 but blithe and livelie1 in respect of a wanton1 soft1 affected1 and artificiall-flaring beautie2 the one attired like unto a young man1 coyfed with a bright-shining helmet1 the other disguised and drest about the head like unto an impudent harlot1 with embroyderies1 frizelings1 and carcanets of pearles3 he will no doubt deeme his owne love to be a man and no woman1 if in his choice he differ from that effeminate shepheard of ,phrygia4 ,in this new kind of lesson he shall declare unto him1 that the prize1 the glorie1 and height of true vertue1 consisted in the facilitie1 profit1 and pleasure of his exercises3 so far from difficultie and incumbrances1 that children as well as men1 the simple as soone as the wise1 may come unto her4 ,discretion and temperance1 not force or way-wardnesse are the instruments to bring him unto her4 ,socrates 7vertues chiefe favorite7 that he might the better walke in the pleasant1 naturall1 and open path of her progresses1 doth voluntarily and in good1 earnest1 quit all compulsion4 ,shee is the nurse and foster-mother of all humane ,footnote3 ,human4 pleasures1 who in making them just and upright1 she also makes them sure and sincere4 ,by moderating them1 she keepeth them in ure ,footnote3 ,practice4 and breath4 ,in limiting and cutting them off1 whom she refuseth2 she whets us on toward those she leaveth unto us2 and plenteously leaves us them1 which ,nature pleaseth1 and like a kind mother giveth us over unto satietie1 if not unto wearisomnesse1 unlesse we will peradventure say that the rule and bridle1 which stayeth the drunkard before drunkennesse1 the glutton before surfetting1 and the letcher before the losing of his haire1 be the enemies of our pleasures4 ,if common fortune faile her1 it cleerely scapes her2 or she cares not for her1 or she frames another unto herselfe1 altogether her owne1 not so fleeting nor so rowling4 ,she knoweth the way how to be rich1 mightie and wise1 and how to lie in sweet-perfumed beds4 ,she loveth life2 she delights in beautie1 in glorie1 and in health4 ,but her proper and particular office is1 first to know how to use such goods temperately1 and how to lose them constantly4 ,an office much more noble than severe1 without which all course of life is unnaturall1 turbulent1 and deformed1 to which one may lawfully joyne those rocks1 those incumbrances1 and those hideous monsters4 ,if so it happen1 that his ,disciple prove of so different a condition1 that he rather love to give eare to an idle fable than to the report of some noble voiage1 or other notable and wise discourse1 when he shall heare it2 that at the sound of a ,drum or clang of a ,trumpet1 which are wont to rowse and arme the youthly heat of his companions1 turneth to another that calleth him to see a play1 tumbling1 jugling tricks1 or other idle lose-time sports2 and who for pleasures sake doth not deeme it more delightsome to returne all sweatie and wearie from a victorious combat1 from wrestling1 or riding of a horse1 than from a ,tennis-court or dancing schoole1 with the prize or honour of such exercises2 ,the best remedy ,i know for such a one is1 to put him prentice to some base occupation1 in some good towne or other1 yea1 were he the sonne of a ,duke2 according to ,platoes rule1 who saith ,that children must be placed1 not according to their fathers conditions1 but the faculties of their mind4 ,since it is ,philosophie that teacheth us to live1 and that infancie as well as other ages1 may plainly read her lessons in the same1 why should it not be imparted unto young ,schollers8 ,vdum et molle lutum est1 nunc nunc properandus1 et acri ,fingendus sine fine rota4 ,footnote3 ,,pes4 ,sat4 iii4 #bc4 ,he's moist and soft mould1 and must by and by ,be cast1 made up1 while wheele whirls readily4 ,we are taught to live when our life is well-nigh spent4 ,many schollers have been infected with that loathsome and marrow-wasting disease before ever they came to read ,aristotles treatise of ,temperance4 ,cicero was wont to say1 ,that could he out-live the lives of two men1 he should never find leasure to study the ,lyrike ,poets4 ,and ,i find these ,sophisters both worse and more unprofitable4 ,our childe is engaged in greater matters2 ,and but the first fifteene or sixteene yeares of his life are due unto ,pedantisme1 the rest unto action3 let us therefore imploy so short time as we have to live in more necessarie instructions4 ,it is an abuse2 remove these thornie quiddities of ,logike1 whereby our life can no whit be amended1 and betake our selves to the simple discourses of ,philosophy2 know how to chuse and fitly to make use of them3 they are much more easie to be conceived than one of ,bocace his tales4 ,a childe comming from nurse is more capable of them1 than he is to learne to read or write4 ,philosophy hath discourses1 whereof infancie as well as decaying old-age may make good use4 ,i am of ,plutarkes mind1 which is1 that ,aristotle did not so much ammuse his great ,disciple about the arts how to frame ,syllogismes1 or the principles of ,geometric1 as he endevoured to instruct him with good precepts concerning valour1 prowesse1 magnanimitie1 and temperance1 and an undanted assurance not to feare any thing2 and with such munition he sent him1 being yet verie young1 to subdue the ,empire of the world1 only with #cjjjj footmen1 #djjj horsemen1 and #dbjjj ,crownes in monie4 ,as for other arts and sciences2 he saith ,alexander honoured them1 and commended their excellencie and comlinesse2 but for any pleasure he tooke in them1 his affection could not easily be drawne to exercise them4 --petite hinc juvenesque senesque ,finem animo certum1 miserisque viatica canis4 ,footnote3 ,sat4 v4 #fd ,young men and old1 draw hence 7in your affaires7 ,your minds set marke1 provision for gray haires4 ,it is that which ,epicurus said in the beginning of his letter to ,memiceus3 ,neither let the youngest shun nor the oldest wearie himselfe in philosophying1 for who doth otherwise seemeth to say1 that either the season to live happily is not yet come1 or is already past4 ,yet would ,i not have this young gentleman pent-up1 nor carelesly cast-off to the heedlesse choler1 or melancholy humour of the hasty ,schoole-master4 ,i would not have his budding spirit corrupted with keeping him fast-tied1 and as it were labouring fourteene or fifteene houres a day poaring on his booke1 as some doe1 as if he were a day-labouring man2 neither doe ,i thinke it fit1 if at any time1 by reason of some solitairie or melancholy complexion1 he should be scene with an over-indiscreet application given to his booke1 it should be cherished in him2 for1 that doth often make him both unapt for civill conversation and distracts him from better imployments3 ,how many have ,i scene in my daies1 by an over-greedy desire of knowledge1 become as it were foolish8 ,carneades was so deeply plunged1 and as ,i may say besotted in it1 that he could never have leasure to cut his haire1 or pare his nailes3 nor would ,i have his noble manners obscured by the incivilitie and barbarisme of others4 ,the ,french wisdome hath long since proverbially been spoken of as verie apt to conceive study in her youth1 but most unapt to keepe it long4 ,in good truth1 we see at this day that there is nothing lovelier to behold than the young children of ,france2 but for the most part1 they deceive the hope which was fore-apprehended of them3 for when they once become men1 there is no excellencie at all in them4 ,i have heard men of understanding hold this opinion1 that the ,colleges to which they are sent 7of which there are store7 doe thus besot them3 whereas to our scholler1 a cabinet1 a gardin1 the table1 the bed1 a solitarinesse1 a companie1 morning and evening1 and all houres shall be alike unto him1 all places shall be a study for him3 for ,philosophy 7as a former of judgements1 and modeler of customes7 shall be his principall lesson1 having the privilege to entermeddle her selfe with all things1 and in all places4 ,isocrates the ,orator1 being once requested at a great banket to speake of his art1 when all thought he had reason to answer1 said1 ,it is not now time to doe what ,i can1 and what should now be done1 ,i cannot doe it2 ,for1 to present orations1 or to enter into disputation of ,rhetorike1 before a companie assembled together to be merrie1 and make good cheere1 would be but a medley of harsh and jarring musicke4 ,the like may be said of all other ,sciences4 ,but touching ,philosophy1 namely1 in that point where it treateth of man1 and of his duties and offices1 it hath been the common judgement of the wisest1 that in regard of the pleasantnesse of her conversatione1 she ought not to be rejected1 neither at banquets nor at sports4 ,and ,plato having invited her to his solemne feast1 we see how kindly she entertaineth the companie with a milde behaviour1 fitly suting her selfe to time and place1 notwithstanding it be one of his learned'st and profitable discourses4 ,a,eque pauperibus prodest1 locupletibus aque1 ,et neglecta aeque pueris senibusque nocebit4 ,footnote3 ,,hor4 #a4 i4 ,epist4 #abe4 ,poore men alike1 alike rich men it easeth1 ,alike it1 scorned1 old and young displeaseth4 ,so doubtlesse he shall lesse be idle than others2 for even as the paces we bestow walking in a gallerie1 although they be twice as many more1 wearie us not so much as those we spend in going a set journey3 ,so our lesson being past over1 as it were1 by chance1 or way of encounter1 without strict observance of time or place1 being applied to all our actions1 shall be digested1 and never felt4 ,all sports and exercises shall be a part of his study2 running1 wrestling1 musicke1 dancing1 hunting1 and managing of armes and horses4 ,i would have the exterior demeanor or decencie1 and the disposition of his person to be fashioned together with his mind3 for1 it is not a mind1 it is not a body that we erect1 but it is a man1 and we must not make two parts of him4 ,and as ,plato saith1 ,they must not be erected one without another1 but equally be directed1 no otherwise than a couple of horses matched to draw in one selfe-same teeme4 ,and to heare him1 doth he not seeme to imploy more time and care in the exercises of his bodie3 and to thinke that the minde is together with the same exercised1 and not the contrarie8 ,as for other matters1 this institution ought to be directed by a sweet- severe mildnesse2 ,not as some do1 who in liew of gently-bidding children to the banquet of letters1 present them with nothing but horror and crueltie4 ,let me have this violence and compulsion removed1 there is nothing that1 in my seeming1 doth more bastardise and dizzie a welborne and gentle nature3 ,if you would have him stand in awe of shame and punishment1 doe not so much enure him to it3 accustome him patiently to endure sweat and cold1 the sharpnesse of the wind1 the heat of the sunne1 and how to despise all hazards4 ,remove from him all nicenesse and quaintnesse in clothing1 in lying1 in eating1 and in drinking3 fashion him to all things1 that he prove not a faire and wanton-puling boy1 but a lustie and vigorous boy3 ,when ,i was a child1 being a man1 and now am old1 ,i have ever judged and believed the same4 ,but amongst other things1 ,i could never away with this kind of discipline used in most of our ,colleges4 ,it had peradventure been lesse hurtfull1 if they had somewhat inclined to mildnesse1 or gentle entreatie4 ,it is a verie prison of captivated youth1 and proves dissolute in punishing it before it be so4 ,come upon them when they are going to their lesson1 and you heare nothing but whipping and brawling1 both of children tormented1 and masters besotted with anger and chafing4 ,how wide are they1 which go about to allure a childs mind to go to its booke1 being yet but tender and fearefull1 with a stearne-frowning countenance1 and with hands full of rods8 ,oh wicked and pernicious manner of teaching6 which ,quintillian hath very wel noted1 that this imperious kind of authoritie1 namely1 this way of punishing of children1 drawes many dangerous inconveniences within4 ,how much more decent were it to see their school-houses and formes strewed with greene boughs and flowers1 than with bloudy burchen-twigs8 ,if it lay in me1 ,i would doe as the ,philosopher ,speusippus did1 who caused the pictures of ,gladness and ,joy1 of ,flora and of the ,graces1 to be set up round about his school-house4 ,where their profit lieth1 there should also be their recreation4 ,those meats ought to be sugred over1 that are healthful for childrens stomakes1 and those made bitter that are hurtfull for them4 ,it is strange to see how carefull ,plato sheweth him selfe in framing of his lawes about the recreation and pastime of the youth of his ,citie1 and how far he extends him selfe about their exercises1 sports1 songs1 leaping1 and dancing1 whereof he saith1 that severe antiquitie gave the conduct and patronage unto the ,gods themselves1 namely1 to ,apollo1 to the ,muses1 and to ,minerva4 ,marke but how far-forth he endevoreth to give a thousand precepts to be kept in his places of exercises both of bodie and mind4 ,as for learned ,sciences1 he stands not much upon them1 and seemeth in particular to commend ,poesie1 but for ,musickes sake4 ,all strangenesse and selfe-particularitie in our manners and conditions1 is to be shunned1 as an enemie to societie and civill conversation4 ,who would not be astonished at ,demophons complexion1 chiefe steward of ,alexanders household1 who was wont to sweat in the shadow1 and quiver for cold in the sunne8 ,i have seene some to startle at the smell of an apple more than at the shot of a peece2 some to be frighted with a mouse1 some readie to cast their gorge ,footnote3 ,vomit4 at the sight of a messe of creame1 and others to be scared with seeing a fether bed shaken3 as ,germanicus1 who could not abide to see a cock1 or heare his crowing4 ,there may haply be some hidden propertie of nature1 which in my judgement might easilie be removed1 if it were taken in time4 ,institution hath gotten this upon me 7,i must confesse with much adoe7 for1 except beere1 all things else that are mans food agree indifferently with my taste4 ,the bodie being yet souple1 ought to be accommodated to all fashions and customes2 and 7alwaies provided1 his appetites and desires be kept under7 let a yong man boldly be made fit for al ,nations and companies2 yea1 if need be1 for al disorders and surfetings2 let him acquaint him selfe with al fashions2 ,that he may be able to do al things1 and love to do none but those that are commendable4 ,some strict ,philosophers commend not1 but rather blame ,calisthenes1 for losing the good favour of his ,master ,alexander1 only because he would not pledge him as much as he had drunke to him4 ,he shall laugh1 jest1 dally1 and debauch himselfe with his ,prince4 ,and in his debauching1 ,i would have him out-go al his fellowes in vigor and constancie1 and that he omit not to doe evill1 neither for want of strength or knowledge1 but for lacke of will4 ,multum interest utrum peccare quis nolit1 aut nesciat3 ,footnote3 ,,hor4 ,epist4 xvii4 #bc4 ,there is a great difference1 whether one have no will1 or no wit to doe amisse4 ,i thought to have honoured a gentleman 7as great a stranger1 and as far from such riotous disorders as any is in ,france7 by enquiring of him in verie good companie1 how many times in all his life he had bin drunke in ,germanie during the time of his abode there1 about the necessarie affaires of our ,king2 who tooke it even as ,i meant it1 and answered three times1 telling the time and manner how4 ,i know some1 who for want of that qualitie1 have been much perplexed when they have had occasion to converse with that nation4 ,i have often noted with great admiration1 that wonderfull nature of ,alcibiades1 to see how easilie he could sute himselfe to so divers fashions and different humors1 without prejudice unto his health2 sometimes exceeding the sumptuousnesse and pompe of the ,persians1 and now and then surpassing4 the austeritie and frugalitie of the ,lacedemonians2 as reformed in ,sparta1 as voluptuous in ,ionia4 ,omnis ,atistippum decuit color1 et status1 et res4 ,footnote3 ,,hor4 ,epist4 xvii4 #be4 ,all colours1 states1 and things are fit ,for courtly ,aristippus wit4 ,such a one would ,i frame my ,disciple1 --quem duplici panno patientia velat1 ,mirabor1 vita via si conversa decebit4 ,whom patience clothes with sutes of double kind1 ,i muse1 if he another way will find4 ,personavnque feret non inconcinnus utramque4 ,footnote3 ,,cic4 ,tusc4 ,qu4 #a4 iv4 ,he not unfitly may1 ,both parts and persons play4 ,loe here my lessons1 wherein he that acteth them1 profiteth more than he that but knoweth them1 whom if you see1 you heare1 and if you heare him1 you see him4 ,god forbid1 saith some bodie in ,plato1 that to ,philosophize1 be to learne many things1 and to exercise the arts4 ,hanc amplissimam omnium artium bene vivendi disciplinam1 vita magis quant litteris persequntd sunt ,footnote3 ,ib4 #bi4 ,this discipline of living well1 which is the amplest of all other arts1 they followed rather in their lives than in their learning or writing4 ,leo ,prince of the ,phliasians1 enquiring of ,heraclides ,ponticus1 what art he professed1 he answered1 ,sir1 ,i professe neither art nor science2 but ,i am a ,philosopher4 ,some reproved ,diogenes1 that being an ignorant man1 he did neverthelesse meddle with ,philosophie1 to whom he replied1 ,so much the more reason have ,i and to greater purpose doe ,i meddle with it4 ,hegesias praid him upon a time to reade some booke unto him3 ,you are a merry man1 said he3 ,as you chuse naturall and not painted1 right and not counterfeit figges to eat1 why doe you not likewise chuse1 not the painted and written1 but the true and naturall exercises8 ,he shall not so much repeat1 as act his lesson4 ,in his actions shall he make repetition of the same4 ,we must observe1 whether there bee wisdome in his enterprises1 integritie in his demeanor1 modestie in his jestures1 justice in his actions1 judgement and grace in his speech1 courage in his sicknesse1 moderation in his sports1 temperance in his pleasures1 order in the government of his house1 and indifference in his taste1 whether it be flesh1 fish1 wine1 or water1 or whatsoever he feedeth upon4 ,qui disciplinam suam non ostentationem scientiae sed legem vitae putet3 quique obtemperet ipse sibi1 et decretis pareat ,footnote3 ,ib4 ,i4 ii4 ,who thinks his learning not an ostentation of knowledge1 but a law of life1 and himselfe obayes himselfe1 and doth what is decreed4 ,the true mirror of our discourses is the course of our lives4 ,zeuxidamus answered one that demanded of him1 why the ,lacedemonians did not draw into a booke1 the ordinances of prowesse1 that so their yong men might read them2 it is1 saith he1 because they would rather accustome them to deeds and actions1 than to bookes and writings4 ,compare at the end of fifteene or sixteene yeares one of these collegiall ,latinizers1 who hath imployed all that while onely in learning how to speake1 to such a one as ,i meane4 ,the world is nothing but babling and words1 and ,i never saw man that doth not rather speake more than he ought1 than lesse4 ,notwithstanding halfe our age is consumed that way4 ,we are kept foure or five yeares learning to understand bare words1 and to joine them into clauses1 then as long in proportioning a great bodie extended into foure or five parts2 and five more at least ere we can succinctly know how to mingle1 joine1 and interlace them handsomly into a subtil fashion1 and into one coherent orbe4 ,let us leave it to those whose profession is to doe nothing else4 ,being once on my journey to ,orleans1 it was my chance to meet upon that plaine that lieth on this side ,clery1 with two ,masters of ,arts1 traveling toward ,bordeaux1 about fiftie paces one from another2 far off behind them1 ,i descride a troupe of horsemen1 their ,master riding formost1 who was the ,earle of ,rochefocault2 one of my servants enquiring of the first of those ,masters of ,arts1 what ,gentleman he was that followed him2 supposing my servant had meant his fellow-scholler1 for he had not yet seen the ,earles traine1 answered pleasantly1 ,he is no gentleman1 ,sir1 but a ,gramarian1 and ,i am a ,logitian4 ,now1 we that contrariwise seek not to frame a ,gramarian1 nor a ,logitian1 but a compleat gentleman1 let us give them leave to mispend their time2 we have else-where1 and somewhat else of more import to doe4 ,so that our ,disciple be well and sufficiently stored with matter2 words will follow apace1 and if they will hot follow gently1 he shall hale them on perforce4 ,i heare some excuse themselves1 that they cannot expresse their meaning1 and make a semblance that their heads are so full stuft with many goodly things1 but for want of eloquence they can neither titter nor make show of them4 ,it is a meere fopperie4 ,and will you know what1 in my seeming1 the cause is8 ,they are shadows and ,chimeraes1 proceeding of some formelesse conceptions1 which they cannot distinguish or resolve within1 and by consequence are not able to produce them in as-much as they understand not themselves3 ,and if you but marke their earnestnesse1 and how they stammer and labour at the point of their deliverle1 you would deeme that what they go withall1 is but a conceiving1 and therefore nothing neere downelying2 and that they doe but licke that imperfect and shapelesse lump of matter4 ,as for me1 ,i am of opinion1 and ,socrates would have it so1 that he who had a cleare and lively imagination in his mind1 may easilie produce and utter the same1 although it be in ,bergamaske ,footnote3 ,a rustic dialect of the north of ,italy4 or ,welsh1 and if he be dumbe1 by signes and tokens4 ,verbaque praevisam rem non invita sequentur4 ,footnote3 ,,hor4 ,art4 ,poet4 #caa4 ,when matter we fore-know1 ,words voluntarie flow4 ,as one said1 as poetically in his prose1 ,cum res animum occupavere1 verba ambiunt2 ,footnote3 ,,sed4 ,controv4 #a4 vii4 prae4 ,when matter hath possest their minds1 they hunt after words3 and another3 ,ipsa res verba rapiunt3 ,footnote3 ,,cic4 de ,fin4 ,i4 iii4 c4 #e4 ,things themselves will catch and carry words3 ,he knowes neither ,ablative1 ,conjunctive1 ,substantive1 nor ,gramar1 no more doth his ,lackey1 nor any ,oyster-wife about the streets1 and yet if you have a mind to it he will intertaine you1 your fill1 and peradventure stumble as little and as seldome against the rules of his tongue1 as the best ,master of arts in ,france4 ,he hath no skill in ,rhetoricke1 nor can he with a preface fore-stall and captivate the ,gentle ,readers good will3 nor careth he greatly to know it4 ,in good sooth1 all this garish painting is easilie defaced1 by the lustre of an in-bred and simple truth2 for these dainties and quaint devices serve but to ammuse the vulgar sort2 unapt and incapable to taste the most solid and firme meat3 as ,afer verie plainly declareth in ,cornelius ,tacitus4 ,the ,ambassadours of ,samos being come to ,cleomenes ,king of ,sparta1 prepared with a long prolix ,oration1 to stir him up to war against the tyrant ,policrates1 after he had listned a good while unto them1 his answer was3 ,touching your ,exordium or beginning ,i have forgotten it2 the middle ,i remember not2 and for your conclusion ,i will do nothing in it4 ,a fit1 and 7to my thinking7 a verie good answer2 and the ,orators were put to such a shift2 as they knew not what to replie4 ,and what said another8 the ,athenians from out two of their cunning ,architects1 were to chuse one to erect a notable great frame2 the one of them more affected and selfe presuming1 presented himselfe before them1 with a smooth fore- premeditated discourse1 about the subject of that piece of worke1 and thereby drew the judgements of the common people unto his liking2 but the other in few words spake thus3 ,lords of ,athens1 what this man hath said ,i will performe4 ,in the greatest earnestnesse of ,ciceroes eloquence many were drawn into a kind of admiration2 ,but ,cato jesting at it1 said1 ,have we not a pleasant ,consull8 ,a quicke cunning ,argument1 and a wittie saying1 whether it go before or come after1 it is never out of season4 ,if it have no coherence with that which goeth before1 nor with what commeth after2 it is good and commendable in it selfe4 ,i am none of those that think a good ,ryme1 to make a good ,poeme2 let him hardly 7if so he please7 make a short syllable long1 it is no great matter2 if the invention be rare and good1 and his wit and judgement have cunningly played their part4 ,i will say to such a one2 he is a good ,poet1 but an ill ,versifier4 ,emunciae naris1 durus componere versus4 ,footnote3 ,,hor4 #a4 i4 ,sat4 iv4 ,a man whose sense could finely pierce1 ,but harsh and hard to make a verse4 ,let a man 7saith ,horace7 make his worke loose all seames1 measures1 and joynts4 ,tempora certa moddsque1 et quod prius ordine verbum est1 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #eh4 ,posterius facias1 praeponens ultima primis3 ,invenias etiam disjecti membra ,poetae4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #fb4 ,set times and moods1 make you the first word last1 ,the last word first1 as if they were new cast3 ,yet find th' unjoynted ,poets joints stand fast4 ,he shall for all that1 nothing gain-say himselfe1 every piece will make a good shew4 ,to this purpose answered ,menander those that chid him1 the day being at hand1 in which he had promised a ,comedy1 and had not begun the same1 ,tut-tut1 said he1 it is alreadie finished1 there wanteth nothing but to adde the verse unto it2 for1 having ranged and cast the plot in his mind1 he made small accompt of feet1 of measures1 or cadences of verses1 which indeed are but of small import in regard of the rest4 ,since great ,ronsarde and learned ,bellay have raised our ,french ,poesie unto that height of honour where it now is3 ,i see not one of these petty ballad-makers1 or prentise dogrell rymers1 that doth not bombast his labours with high-swelling and heaven-disimbowelling words1 and that doth not marshall his cadences verie neere as they doe4 ,plus sonat quam valet4 ,footnote3 ,sen1 ,epist4 xl4 ,the sound is more than the weight or worth4 ,and for the vulgar sort there were never so many ,poets1 and so few good3 but as it hath been easie for them to represent their rymes1 so come they far short in imitating the rich descriptions of the one1 and rare inventions of the other4 ,but what shall he doe1 if he be urged with sophisticall subtilties about a ,sillogisme8 ,a gammon of ,bacon makes a man drink1 drinking quencheth a mans thirst2 ,ergo1 a gammon of bacon quencheth a mans thirst4 ,let him mock at it1 it is more wittie to be mockt at than to be answered4 ,let him borrow this pleasant counter-craft of ,aristippus2 ,why shall ,i unbind that1 which being bound doth so much trouble me8 ,some one proposed certaine ,logicall quiddities against ,cleanthes1 to whom ,chrisippus said2 use such jugling tricks to play with children1 and divert not the serious thoughts of an aged man to such idle matters4 ,if such foolish wiles1 ,contorta et aculeata sophismata1 ,footnote3 ,cic4 ,acad4 ,qu4 #a4 iv4 ,intricate and stinged sophismes1 must perswade a lie1 it is dangerous3 but if they proove void of any effect1 and move him but to laughter1 ,i see not why he shall beware of them4 ,some there are so foolish that will go a quarter of a mile out of the way to hunt after a quaint new word1 if they once get in chace2 ,aut qui non verba rebus aptant1 sed res extrinsecus arcessunt1 quibus verba conveniant3 ,or such as fit not words to matter1 but fetch matter from abroad1 whereto words be fitted4 ,and another1 ,qui alicujus verbi decore placentis1 vocentur ad id quod non proposuerant scribere3 ,footnote3 ,sen4 ,epist4 liii4 ,who are allured by the grace of some pleasing word1 to write what they intended not to write4 ,i doe more willingly winde up a wittie notable sentence1 that so ,i may sew it upon me1 than unwinde my thread to go fetch it4 ,contrariwise1 it is for words to serve and wait upon the matter1 and not for matter to attend upon words1 and if the ,french tongue cannot reach unto it1 let the ,gaskonie1 or any other4 ,i would have the matters to surmount1 and so fill the imagination of him that harkeneth1 that he have no remembrance at all of the words4 ,it is a naturall1 simple1 and unaffected speech that ,i love1 so written as it is spoken1 and such upon the paper1 as it is in the mouth1 a pithie1 sinnowie1 full1 strong1 compendious and materiall speech1 not so delicate and affected as vehement and piercing4 ,hac demum sapiet dictio qua feriet4 ,footnote3 ,epitaph on ,lucan1 #f4 ,in fine1 that word is wisely fit1 ,which strikes the fence1 the marke doth hit4 ,rather difficult than tedious1 void of affection1 free1 loose and bold1 that every member of it seeme to make a bodie2 not ,pedanticall1 nor ,frier-like1 nor ,lawyer-like1 but rather downe right1 ,souldier-like4 ,as ,suetonius calleth that of ,julius ,caesar1 which ,i see no reason wherefore he calleth it4 ,i have sometimes pleased myselfe in imitating that licenciousnesse or wanton humour of our youths1 in wearing of their garments2 as carelessly to let their cloaks hang downe over one shoulder2 to weare their cloakes scarfe or bawdrikewise1 and their stockings loose hanging about their legs4 ,it represents a kind of disdainful fiercenesse of these forraine embellishings1 and neglect carelesnesse of art3 ,but ,i commend it more being imployed in the course and forme of speech4 ,all manner of affectation1 namely ,footnote3 ,especially1 in the livelinesse and libertie of ,france1 is unseemely in a ,courtier4 ,and in a ,monarchie every ,gentleman ought to addresse himselfe unto ,footnote3 ,aim at a ,courtiers carriage4 ,therefore do we well somewhat to incline to a native and carelesse behaviour4 ,i like not a contexture1 where the seames and pieces may be seen3 ,as in a well compact bodie1 what need a man distinguish and number all the bones and veines severally8 ,quae veritati operam dat oratio1 incomposita sit et simplex ,footnote3 ,sen4 ,epist4 xl ,quis accurate loquitur nisi qui vult putide loqui ,footnote3 ,ib4 ,epist4 ixxr4 ,the speach that intendeth truth must be plaine and unpollisht3 ,who speaketh elaborately1 but he that meanes to speake unfavourably8 ,that eloquence offereth injurie unto things1 which altogether drawes us to observe it4 ,as in apparell1 it is a signe of pusillanimitie for one to marke himselfe1 in some particular and unusuall fashion3 so likewise in common speech1 for one to hunt after new phrases1 and unaccustomed quaint words1 proceedeth of a scholasticall and childish ambition4 ,let me use none other than are spoken in the hals of ,paris4 ,aristophanes the ,gramarian was somewhat out of the way1 when he reproved ,epicurus1 for the simplicitie of his words1 and the end of his art oratorie1 which was onely perspicuitie in speech4 ,the imitation of speech1 by reason of the facilitie of it1 followeth presently a whole nation4 ,the imitation of judging and inventing comes more slow4 ,the greater number of ,readers1 because they have found one self-same kind of gowne1 suppose most falsely to holde one like bodie4 ,outward garments and cloakes may be borrowed1 but never the sinews and strength of the bodie4 ,most of those that converse with me1 speake like unto these ,essayes2 but ,i know not whether they think alike4 ,the ,athenians 7as ,plato averreth7 have for their part great care to be fluent and eloquent in their speech2 ,the ,lacedemonians endevour to be short and compendious2 and those of ,creet labour more to bee plentifull in conceits than in language4 ,and these are the best4 ,zeno was wont to say1 ,that he had two sorts of disciples2 the one he called ,greek word omitted1 curious to learne things1 and those were his darlings1 the other he termed ,greek word omitted1 who respected nothing more than the language4 ,yet can no man say1 but that to speake well1 is most gracious and commendable1 but not so excellent as some make it3 and ,i am grieved to see how we imploy most part of our time about that onely4 ,i would first know mine owne tongue perfectly1 then my neighbours with whom ,i have most commerce4 ,i must needs acknowledge1 that the ,greeke and ,latine tongues are great ornaments in a gentleman1 but they are purchased at over-high a rate4 ,use it who list1 ,i will tell you how they may be gotten better1 cheaper1 and much sooner than is ordinarily used1 which was tried in myselfe4 ,my late father1 having1 by all the meanes and industrie that is possible for a man1 sought amongst the wisest1 and men of best understanding1 to find a most exquisite and readie way of teaching1 being advised of the inconveniences then in use2 was given to understand that the lingring while1 and best part of our youth1 that we imploy in learning the tongues1 which cost them nothing1 is the onely cause we can never attaine to that absolute perfection of skill and knowledge of the ,greekes and ,romanes4 ,i doe not beleeve that to be the onely cause4 ,but so it is1 the expedient my father found out was this2 that being yet at nurse1 and before the first loosing of my tongue1 ,i was delivered to a ,germane 7who died since1 a most excellent ,physitian in ,france7 he being then altogether ignorant of the ,french tongue1 but exquisitely readie and skilfull in the ,latine4 ,this man1 whom my father had sent for of purpose1 and to whom he gave verie great entertainment1 had me continually in his armes1 and was mine onely overseer4 ,there were also joyned unto him two of his countrimen1 but not so learned2 whose charge was to attend1 and now and then to play with me2 and all these together did never entertaine me with other than the ,latine tongue4 ,as for others of his household1 it was an inviolable rule1 that neither himselfe1 nor my mother1 nor man1 nor maid-servant1 were suffered to speake one word in my companie1 except such ,latine words as every one had learned to chat and prattle with me4 ,it were strange to tell how every one in the house profited therein4 ,my ,father and my ,mother learned so much ,latine1 that for a need they could understand it1 when they heard it spoken1 even so did all the household servants1 namely such as were neerest and most about me4 ,to be short1 we were all so ,latinized1 that the townes round about us had their share of it2 insomuch as even at this day1 many ,latine names both of workmen and of their tooles are yet in use amongst them4 ,and as for myselfe1 ,i was about six years old1 and could understand no more ,french or ,perigordine than ,arabike2 and that without art1 without bookes1 rules1 or grammer1 without whipping or whining1 ,i had gotten as pure a ,latin tongue as my ,master could speake2 the rather because ,i could neither mingle or confound the same with other tongues4 ,if for an ,essay they would give me a ,theme1 whereas the fashion in ,colleges is1 to give it in ,french1 ,i had it in bad ,latine1 to reduce the same into good4 ,and ,nicholas ,grouchy1 who hath written ,de comitiis ,romanorum1 ,william ,guerente1 who hath commented ,aristotele3 ,george ,buchanan1 that famous ,scottish ,poet1 and ,marke ,antonie ,muret1 whom 7while he lived7 both ,france and ,italie to this day1 acknowledge to have been the best orator3 all which have beene my familiar tutors1 have often told me1 that in mine infancie ,i had the ,latine tongue so readie and so perfect1 that themselves feared to take me in hand4 ,and ,buchanan1 who afterward ,i saw attending on the ,marshall of ,brissacke1 told me1 he was about to write a treatise of the institution of children1 and that he tooke the model and patterne from mine3 for at that time he had the charge and bringing up of the young ,earle of ,brissack1 whom since we have scene prove so worthy and so valiant a ,captaine4 ,as for the ,greeke1 wherein ,i have but small understanding1 my father purposed to make me learne it by art2 ,but by new and uncustomed meanes1 that is1 by way of recreation and exercise4 ,we did tosse our declinations and conjugations to and fro1 as they doe1 who by way of a certaine game at tables learne both ,arithmetike and ,geometrie4 ,for1 amongst other things he had especially beene persuaded to make me taste and apprehend the fruits of dutie and science by an unforced kinde of will1 and of mine owne choice2 and without any compulsion or rigor to bring me up in all mildnesse and libertie3 yea with such kinde of superstition1 that1 whereas some are of opinion that suddenly to awaken young children1 and as it were by violence to startle and fright them out of their dead sleepe in a morning 7wherein they are more heavie and deeper plunged than we7 doth greatly trouble and distemper their braines1 he would every morning cause me to be awakened by the sound of some instrument2 and ,i was never without a servant who to that purpose attended upon me4 ,this example may serve to judge of the rest2 as also to commend the judgement and tender affection of so carefull and loving a father3 who is not to be blamed1 though hee reaped not the fruits answerable to his exquisite toyle and painefull manuring4 ,footnote3 ,cultivation4 ,two things hindered the same2 first the barrennesse and unfit soyle3 for howbeit ,i were of a sound and strong constitution1 and of a tractable and yeelding condition1 yet was ,i so heavie1 so sluggish1 and so dull1 that ,i could not be rouzed 7yea were it to goe to play7 from out mine idle drowzinesse4 ,what ,i saw1 ,i saw it perfectly2 and under this heavy1 and as it were ,lethe-complexion did ,i breed hardie imaginations1 and opinions farre above my yeares4 ,my spirit was very slow1 and would goe no further than it was led by others2 my apprehension blockish1 my invention poore2 and besides1 ,i had a marvelous defect in my weake memorie3 it is therefore no wonder1 if my father could never bring me to any perfection4 ,secondly1 as those that in some dangerous sicknesse1 moved with a kind of hope-full and greedie desire of perfect health againe1 give eare to every ,leach or ,emperike1 ,footnote3 ,doctor or quack4 and follow all counsels1 the good man being exceedingly fearefull to commit any oversight1 in a matter he tooke so to heart1 suffered himselfe at last to be led away by the common opinion1 which like unto the ,cranes1 followeth ever those that go before1 and yeelded to customer having those no longer about him1 that had given him his first directions1 and which they had brought out of ,italie4 ,being but six yeares old ,i was sent to the ,college of ,guienne1 then most flourishing and reputed the best in ,france1 where it is impossible to adde any thing to the great care he had1 both to chuse the best and most sufficient masters that could be found1 to reade unto me1 as also for all other circumstances partaining to my education2 wherein contrary to usuall customes of ,colleges1 he observed many particular rules4 ,but so it is1 it was ever a ,college4 ,my ,latin tongue was forthwith corrupted1 whereof by reason of discontinuance1 ,i afterward lost all manner of use3 which new kind of institution stood me in no other stead1 but that at my first admittance it made me to overskip some of the lower formes1 and to be placed in the highest4 ,for at thirteene yeares of age1 that ,i left the ,college1 ,i had read over the whole course of ,philosophie 7as they call it7 but with so small profit1 that ,i can now make no account of it4 ,the first taste or feeling ,i had of bookes1 was of the pleasure ,i tooke in reading the fables of ,ovids ,metamorphosies2 for1 being but seven or eight yeares old1 ,i would steale and sequester my selfe from all other delights1 only to reade them3 ,forsomuch as the tongue wherein they were written was to me naturall2 and it was the easiest booke ,i knew1 and by reason of the matter therein contained most agreeing with my young age4 ,for of ,king ,arthur1 of ,lancelot du ,lake1 of ,amadis1 of ,huon of ,burdeaux1 and such idle time consuming and wit-besotting trash of bookes wherein youth doth commonly ammuse it selfe1 ,i was not so much as acquainted with their names1 and to this day know not their bodies1 nor what they containe3 ,so exact was my discipline4 ,whereby ,i became more carelesse to studie my other prescript lessons4 ,and well did it fall out for my purpose1 that ,i had to deale with a very discreet ,master1 who out of his judgement could with such dexterite winke at and second my untowardlinesse1 and such other faults that were in me4 ,for by that meanes ,i read over ,virgils ,a,eneados1 ,terence1 ,plautus1 and other ,italian ,comedies1 allured thereunto by the pleasantnesse of their severall subjects3 ,had he beene so foolishly- severe1 or so severely froward as to crosse this course of mine1 ,i thinke verily ,i had never brought any thing from the ,college1 but the hate and contempt of ,bookes1 as doth the greatest part of our ,nobilitie4 ,such was his discretion1 and so warily did he behave himselfe1 that he saw and would not see3 hee would foster and increase my longing3 suffering me but by stealth and by snatches to glut my selfe with those ,bookes1 holding ever a gentle hand over me1 concerning other regular studies4 ,for1 the chiefest thing my father required at their hands 7unto whose charge he had committed me7 was a kinde of well conditioned mildnesse and facilitie of complexion4 ,footnote3 ,easiness of disposition4 ,and1 to say truth1 mine had no other fault1 but a certaine dull languishing and heavie slothfullnesse4 ,the danger was not1 ,i should doe ill1 but that ,i should doe nothing4 ,no man did ever suspect ,i would prove a bad1 but an unprofitable man3 foreseeing in me rather a kind of idlenesse than a voluntary craftinesse4 ,i am not so selfe-conceited but ,i perceive what hath followed4 ,the complaints that are daily buzzed in mine eares are these2 that ,i am idle1 cold1 and negligent in offices of friendship1 and dutie to my parents and kinsfolkes2 and touching publike offices1 that ,i am over singular and disdainfull4 ,and those that are most injurious cannot aske1 wherefore ,i have taken1 and why ,i have not paied8 but may rather demand1 why ,i doe not quit1 and wherefore ,i doe not give8 ,i would take it as a favour1 they should wish such effects of supererogation in me4 ,but they are unjust and over partiall1 that will goe about to exact that from me which ,i owe not1 with more vigour than they will exact from themselves that which they owe2 wherein if they condemne me1 they utterly cancell both the gratifying of the action1 and the gratitude1 which thereby would be due to me4 ,whereas the active well doing should be of more consequence1 proceeding from my hand1 in regard ,i have no passive at all4 ,wherefore ,i may so much the more freely dispose of my fortune1 by how much more it is mine1 and of my selfe that am most mine owne4 ,notwithstanding1 if ,i were a great blazoner of mine owne actions1 ,i might peradventure barre such reproches1 and justly upraid some1 that they are not so much offended1 because ,i doe not enough1 as for that ,i may1 and it lies in my power to doe much more than ,i doe4 ,yet my minde ceased not at the same time to have peculiar unto it selfe well setled motions1 true and open judgements concerning the objects which it knew2 which alone1 and without any helpe or communication it would digest4 ,and amongst other things1 ,i verily beleeve it would have proved altogether incapable and unfit to yeeld unto force1 or stoope unto violence4 ,shall ,i account or relate this qualitie of my infancie1 which was1 a kinde of boldnesse in my lookes1 and gentle softnesse in my voice1 and affabilitie in my gestures1 and a dexterite in conforming my selfe to the parts ,i undertooke8 for before the age of the ,alter ab undecimo turn me vix ceperat annus4 ,footnote3 ,virg4 ,buc4 ,ecl4 viii4 #ci4 ,yeares had ,i 7to make even7 ,scarce two above eleven4 ,i have under-gone and represented the chiefest part in the ,latin ,tragedies of ,buchanan1 ,guerente1 and of ,muret2 which in great state were acted and plaid in our ,college of ,guienne3 wherein ,andreas ,goveanus our ,rector principall2 who as in all other parts belonging to his charge1 was without comparison the chiefest ,rector of ,france1 and my selfe 7without ostentation be it spoken7 was reputed1 if not a chiefe-master1 yet a principall ,actor in them4 ,it is an exercise ,i rather commend than disalow in young ,gentlemen3 and have seene some of our ,princes 7in imitation of some of former ages7 both commendably and honestly1 in their proper persons act and play some parts in ,tragedies4 ,it hath heretofore been esteemed a lawfull exercise1 and a tolerable profession in men of honor1 namely in ,greece4 ,aristoni tragico actori rem aperit3 huic et genus et fortuna honesta erant3 nec ars1 quia nihil tale apud ,graecos pudori est1 ea deformabat4 ,footnote3 ,liv4 ,deo4 iii4 #a4 iv4 ,he imparts the matter to ,ariston a ,player of tragedies1 whose progenie and fortune were both honest2 nor did his profession disgrace them1 because no such matter is a disparagement amongst the ,grecians4 ,and ,i have ever accused them of impertinencie1 that condemne and disalow such kindes of recreations1 and blame those of injustice1 that refuse good and honest ,comedians1 or 7as we call them7 ,players1 to enter our good townes1 and grudge the common people such publike sports4 ,politike and wel ordered commonwealths endevour rather carefully to unite and assemble their ,citizens together2 as in serious offices of devotion1 so in honest exercises of recreation4 ,common societie and loving friendship is thereby cherished and increased4 ,and besides1 they cannot have more formal and regular pastimes allowed them1 than such as are acted and represented in open view of all1 and in the presence of the magistrates themselves2 ,and if ,i might beare sway1 ,i would thinke it reasonable1 that ,princes should sometimes1 at their proper charges1 gratifie the common people with them1 as an argument of a fatherly affection1 and loving goodnesse towards them3 and that in populous and frequented cities1 there should be ,theatres and places appointed for such spectacles2 as a diverting of worse inconveniences1 and secret actions4 ,but to come to my intended purpose there is no better way to allure the affection1 and to entice the appetite3 otherwise a man shall breed but asses laden with ,bookes4 ,with jerks of rods they have their satchels full of learning given them to keepe4 ,which to doe well1 one must not only harbor in himselfe1 but wed and marry the same with his minde4 ,,of ,,friendship ,considering the proceeding of a ,painters worke ,i have1 a desire hath possessed mee to imitate him3 ,he maketh choice of the most convenient place and middle of everie wall1 there to place a picture1 laboured with all his skill and sufficiencie2 and all void places about it he filleth up with antike ,boscage ,footnote3 ,foliated ornament or ,crotesko ,footnote3 ,grotesque works2 which are fantasticall pictures1 having no grace1 but in the variety and strangenesse of them4 ,and what are these my compositions in truth1 other than antike workes1 and monstrous bodies1 patched and hudled up together of divers members1 without any certaine or well ordered figure1 having neither order1 dependencie1 or proportion1 but casuall and framed by chance8 ,definit in piscem mulier formosa superne4 ,footnote3 ,hon4 ,art4 ,poet4 #d4 ,a woman faire for parts superior1 ,ends in a fish for parts inferior4 ,touching this second point ,i goe as farre as my ,painter1 but for the other and better part ,i am farre behinde3 for my sufficiency reacheth not so farre as that ,i dare undertake a rich1 a polished1 and1 according to true skill1 an art-like table4 ,i have advised myselfe to borrow one of ,steven de la ,boetie1 who with this kinde of worke shall honour all the world4 ,it is a discourse he entitled ,voluntary ,servitude1 but those who have not knowne him1 have since very properly rebaptized the same1 ,the ,against-one4 ,in his first youth he writ1 by way of ,essaie1 in honour of libertie against ,tyrants4 ,it hath long since beene dispersed amongst men of understanding1 not without great and well deserved commendations3 for it is full of wit1 and containeth as much learning as may be3 yet doth it differ much from the best he can do4 ,and if in the age ,i knew him in1 he would have undergone my dessigne to set his fantasies downe in writing1 we should doubtlesse see many rare things1 and which would very neerely approch the honour of antiquity3 for especially touching that part of natures gifts1 ,i know none may be compared to him4 ,but it was not long of him1 that ever this ,treatise came to mans view1 and ,i beleeve he never saw it since it first escaped his hands3 with certaine other notes concerning the edict of ,januarie1 famous by reason of our intestine warre1 which haply may in other places finde their deserved praise4 ,it is all ,i could ever recover of his reliques 7whom when death seized1 he by his last will and testament1 left with so kinde remembrance1 heire and executor of his librarie and writings7 besides the little booke1 ,i since caused to be published3 ,to which his pamphlet ,i am particularly most bounden1 for so much as it was the instrumentall meane of our first acquaintance4 ,for it was shewed me long time before ,i saw him2 and gave me the first knowledge of his name1 addressing1 and thus nourishing that unspotted friendship which we 7so long as it pleased ,god7 have so sincerely1 so entire and inviolably maintained betweene us1 that truly a man shall not commonly heare of the like2 and amongst our moderne men no signe of any such is scene4 ,so many parts are required to the erecting of such a one1 that it may be counted a wonder if fortune once in three ages contract the like4 ,there is nothing to which ,nature hath more addressed us than to societie4 ,and ,aristotle saith that perfect ,law- givers have had more regardfull care of friendship than of justice4 ,and the utmost drift of its perfection is this4 ,for generally1 all those amities which are forged and nourished by voluptuousnesse or profit1 publike or private need1 are thereby so much the lesse faire and generous1 and so much the lesse true amities1 in that they intermeddle other causes1 scope1 and fruit with friendship1 than it selfe alone3 ,nor doe those foure ancient kindes of friendships1 ,naturall1 sociall1 hospitable1 and venerian1 either particularly or conjointly beseeme the same4 ,that from children to parents may rather be termed respect3 ,friendship is nourished by communication1 which by reason of the over-great disparitie cannot bee found in them1 and would happly offend the duties of nature3 for neither all the secret thoughts of parents can be communicated unto children1 lest it might engender an unbeseeming familiaritie betweene them1 nor the admonitions and corrections 7which are the chiefest offices of friendship7 could be exercised from children to parents4 ,there have nations beene found1 where1 by custome1 children killed their parents1 and others where parents slew their children1 thereby to avoid the hindrance of enterbearing ,footnote3 ,mutually supporting4 one another in after-times3 for naturally one dependeth from the ruine of another4 ,there have ,philosophers beene found disdaining this naturall conjunction3 witnesse ,aristippus1 who being urged with the affection he ought ,footnote3 ,owed4 his children1 as proceeding from his loyns1 began to spit1 saying1 ,that also that excrement proceeded from him1 and that also we engendred wormes and lice4 ,and that other man1 whom ,plutarke would have perswaded to agree with his brother1 answered1 ,i care not a straw the more for him1 though he came out of the same wombe ,i did4 ,verily the name of ,brother is a glorious name1 and full of loving kindnesse1 and therefore did he and ,i terme one another sworne brother3 but this commixture1 dividence1 and sharing of goods1 this joyning wealth to wealth1 and that the riches of one shall be the povertie of another1 doth exceedingly distemper and distract all brotherly alliance1 and lovely conjunction3 ,if brothers should conduct the progresse of their advancement and thrift in one same path and course1 they must necessarily oftentimes hinder and crosse one another4 ,moreover1 the correspondencie and relation that begetteth these true and mutually perfect amities1 why shall it be found in these8 ,the father and the sonne may very well be of a farre differing complexion1 and so many brothers3 ,he is my sonne1 he is my kinsman2 but he may be a foole1 a bad1 or a peevish-minded man4 ,and then according as they are friendships which the law and dutie of nature doth command us1 so much the lesse of our owne voluntarie choice and libertie is there required unto it3 ,and our genuine libertie hath no production more properly her owne1 than that of affection and amitie4 ,sure ,i am1 that concerning the same ,i have assaied all that might be1 having had the best and most indulgent father that ever was1 even to his extremest age1 and who from father to sonne was descended of a famous house1 and touching this rare-seene vertue of brotherly concord very exemplare3 ----et ipse ,notus in fratres animi paterni4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 ii4 ,qd4 li4 #f4 ,to his brothers knowne so kinde4 ,as to beare a fathers minde4 ,to compare the affection toward women unto it1 although it proceed from our owne free choice1 a man cannot1 nor may it be placed in this ranke3 ,her fire1 ,i confesse it to be more 7---neque enim est dea nescia nostri ,quae dulcem curis miscet amaritiem47 ,footnote3 ,catul4 ,epig4 lxvi4 7,nor is that ,goddesse ignorant of me1 ,whose bitter-sweets with my cares mixed be47 active1 more fervent1 and more sharpe4 ,but it is a rash and wavering fire1 waving and divers3 the fire of an ague subject to fits and stints1 and that hath but slender hold-fast of us4 ,in true friendship1 it is a generall and universall heat1 and equally tempered1 a constant and setled heat1 all pleasure and smoothnes1 that hath no pricking or stinging in it1 which the more it is in lustfull love1 the more is it but a raging and mad desire in following that which flies us1 ,come segue la lepre il cacciatore ,alfreddo1 al caldo1 alia montagna1 a lito1 ,ne pin l'estima poi che presa vede1 ,e sol dietro a chi fugge affretta il piede4 ,footnote3 ,ariost4 can4 x4 st4 #g4 ,ev'n as the huntsman doth the hare pursue1 ,in cold1 in heat1 on mountaines1 on the shore1 ,but cares no more1 when he her ta'en espies ,speeding his pace only at that which flies4 ,as soone as it creepeth into the termes of friendship1 that is to say1 in the agreement of wits1 it languisheth and vanisheth away3 enjoying doth lose it1 as having a corporall end1 and subject to satietie4 ,on the other side1 friendship is enjoyed according as it is desired1 it is neither bred1 nourished1 nor increaseth but in jovissance1 as being spirituall1 and the minde being refined by use custome4 ,under this chiefe amitie1 these fading affections have sometimes found place in me1 lest ,i should speake of him1 who in his verses speakes but too much of it4 ,so are these two passions entered into me in knowledge one of another1 but in comparison never3 the first flying a high1 and keeping a proud pitch1 disdainfully beholding the other to passe her points farre under it4 ,concerning marriage1 besides that it is a covenant which hath nothing free but the entrance1 the continuance being forced and constrained1 depending else-where than from our will1 and a match ordinarily concluded to other ends3 ,a thousand strange knots are therein commonly to be unknit1 able to break the web1 and trouble the whole course of a lively affection2 whereas in friendship there is no commerce or busines depending on the same1 but it selfe4 ,seeing 7to speake truly7 that the ordinary sufficiency of women cannot answer this conference and communication1 the nurse of this sacred bond3 nor seeme their mindes strong enough to endure the pulling of a knot so hard1 so fast1 and durable4 ,and truly1 if without that1 such a genuine and voluntarie acquaintance might be contracted1 where not only mindes had this entire jovissance1 ,footnote3 ,enjoyment4 but also bodies1 a share of the alliance1 and where a man might wholly be engaged3 ,it is certaine1 that friendship would thereby be more compleat and full3 ,but this sex could never yet by any example attaine unto it1 and is by ancient schooles rejected thence4 ,and this other ,greeke licence is justly abhorred by our customes1 which notwithstanding1 because according to use it had so necessarie a disparitie of ages1 and difference of offices betweene lovers1 did no more sufficiently answer the perfect union and agreement1 which here we require3 ,quis est enim iste amor amicitiae8 cur neque deformem adolescentem quisquam amat1 neque formosum senem8 ,footnote3 ,cic4 ,tusc4 ,qu4 lv4 c4 #cc4 ,for1 what love is this of friendship8 why doth no man love either a deformed young man1 or a beautifull old man8 ,for even the picture the ,academic makes of it1 will not 7as ,i suppose7 disavowe mee1 to say thus in her behalfe3 ,that the first furie1 enspired by the son of ,venus in the lovers hart1 upon the object of tender youths-flower1 to which they allow all insolent and passionate violences1 an immoderate heat may produce1 was simply grounded upon an externall beauty2 a false image of corporall generation3 for in the spirit it had no power1 the sight whereof was yet concealed1 which was but in his infancie1 and before the age of budding4 ,for1 if this furie did seize upon a base minded courage1 the meanes of its pursuit were riches1 gifts1 favour to the advancement of dignities1 and such like vile merchandice1 which they reprove4 ,if it fell into a more generous minde1 the interpositions ,footnote3 ,means of approach4 were likewise generous3 ,philosophicall instructions1 documents ,footnote3 ,teachings4 to reverence religion1 to obey the lawes1 to die for the good of his countrie3 examples of valor1 wisdome and justice2 the lover endevoring and studying to make himselfe acceptable by the good grace and beauty of his minde 7that of his body being long since decayed7 hoping by this mentall society to establish a more firme and permanent bargaine4 ,when this pursuit attained the effect in due season 7for by not requiring in a lover1 he should bring leasure and discretion in his enterprise1 they require it exactly in the beloved2 forasmuch as he was to judge of an internall beauty1 of difficile knowledge1 and abstruse discovery7 then by the interposition of a spiritual beauty was the desire of a spiritual conception engendred in the beloved4 ,the latter was here chiefest2 the corporall1 accidentall and second1 altogether contrarie to the lover4 ,and therefore doe they preferre the beloved1 and verifie that the gods likewise preferre the same3 and greatly blame the ,poet ,a,eschylus1 who in the love betweene ,achilles and ,patroclus ascribeth the lovers part unto ,achilles1 who was in the first and beardlesse youth of his adolescency1 and the fairest of the ,graecians4 ,after this general communitie1 the mistris and worthiest part of it1 predominant and exercising her offices 7they say the most availefull commodity did thereby redound both to the private and publike74 ,that it was the force of countries received the use of it1 and the principall defence of equitie and libertie3 witnesse the comfortable loves of ,hermodius and ,aristogiton4 ,therefore name they it sacred and divine1 and it concerns not them whether the violence of tyrants1 or the demisnesse of the people be against them3 ,to conclude1 all that can be alleged in favour of the ,academy1 is to say1 that it was a love ending in friendship1 a thing which hath no bad reference unto the ,stoical definition of love3 ,amorem conatum esse amicitiae faciendae ex pulchritudinis specie3 ,footnote3 ,cic4 ,tusc4 ,qu4 ir4 c4 #cd4 ,that love is an endevour of making friendship1 by the shew of beautie4 ,i returne to my description in a more equitable and equall manner4 ,omnino amicitiae1 corroboratis jam confirmatisque ingeniis et aetatibus1 judicandae sunt4 ,footnote3 ,cic4 ,amic4 ,clearely friendships are to be judged by wits1 and ages already strengthened and confirmed4 ,as for the rest1 those we ordinarily call friendes and amities1 are but acquaintances and familiarities1 tied together by some occasion or commodities1 by meanes whereof our mindes are entertained4 ,in the amitie ,i speake of1 they entermixe and confound themselves one in the other1 with so universall a commixture1 that they weare out and can no more finde the seame that hath conjoined them together4 ,if a man urge me to tell wherefore ,i loved him1 ,i feele it cannot be expressed1 but by answering2 ,because it was he1 because it was my selfe4 ,there is beyond all my discourse1 and besides what ,i can particularly report of it1 ,i know not what inexplicable and fatall power1 a meane and ,mediatrix of this indissoluble union4 ,we sought one another before we had scene one another1 and by the reports we heard one of another2 which wrought a greater violence in us1 than the reason of reports may well beare2 ,i thinke by some secret ordinance of the heavens1 we embraced one another by our names4 ,and at our first meeting1 which was by chance at a great feast1 and solemne meeting of a whole towneship1 we found our selves so surprized1 so knowne1 so acquainted1 and so combinedly bound together1 that from thence forward1 nothing was so neer unto us as one unto anothers4 ,he writ an excellent ,latyne ,satyre since published2 by which he excuseth and expoundeth the precipitation of our acquaintance1 so suddenly come to her perfection2 ,sithence it must continue so short a time1 and begun so late 7for we were both growne men1 and he some yeares older than my selfe7 there was no time to be lost4 ,and it was not to bee modelled or directed by the paterne of regular and remisse ,footnote3 ,slight1 languid4 friendship1 wherein so many precautions of a long and preallable conversation ,footnote3 ,preceding intercourse4 are required4 ,this hath no other ,idea than of it selfe1 and can have no reference but to itselfe4 ,it is not one especiall consideration1 nor two1 nor three1 nor foure1 nor a thousand3 ,it is ,i wot not what kinde of quintessence1 of all this commixture1 which having seized all my will1 induced the same to plunge and lose it selfe in his1 which likewise having seized all his will1 brought it to lose and plunge it selfe in mine1 with a mutuall greedinesse1 and with a semblable concurrance4 ,i may truly say1 lose1 reserving nothing unto us1 that might properly be called our owne1 nor that was either his or mine4 ,when ,lelius in the presence of the ,romane ,consuls1 who after the condemnation of ,tiberius ,gracchus1 pursued all those that had beene of his acquaintance1 came to enquire of ,caius ,blosius 7who was one of his chiefest friends7 what he would have done for him1 and that he answered1 ,all things4 ,what1 all things8 replied he4 ,and what if he had willed thee to burne our ,temples8 ,blosius answered1 ,he would never have commanded such a thing4 ,but what if he had done it8 replied ,lelius4 ,the other answered1 ,i would have obeyed him4 ,if hee were so perfect a friend to ,gracchus as ,histories report1 he needed not offend the ,consuls with this last and bold confession1 and should not have departed from the assurance hee had of ,gracchus his minde4 ,but yet those who accuse this answer as seditious1 understand not well this mysterie3 and doe not presuppose in what termes he stood1 and that he held ,gracchus his will in his sleeve1 both by power and knowledge4 ,they were rather friends than ,citizens1 rather friends than enemies of their countrey1 or friends of ambition and trouble4 ,having absolutely committed themselves one to another1 they perfectly held the reines of one anothers inclination3 and let this yoke be guided by vertue and conduct of reason 7because without them it is altogether impossible to combine and proportion the same74 ,the answer of ,blosius was such as it should be4 ,if their affections miscarried1 according to my meaning1 they were neither friends one to other1 nor friends to themselves4 ,as for the rest1 this answer sounds no more than mine would doe1 to him that would in such sort enquire of me2 if your will should command you to kill your daughter1 would you doe it8 and that ,i should consent unto it3 for1 that beareth no witnesse of consent to doe it3 because ,i am not in doubt of my will1 and as little of such a friends will4 ,it is not in the power of the worlds discourse to remove me from the certaintie ,i have of his intentions and judgments of mine3 no one of its actions might be presented unto me1 under what shape soever1 but ,i would presently finde the spring and motion of it4 ,our mindes have jumped ,footnote3 ,agreed4 so unitedly together1 they have with so fervent an affection considered of each other1 and with like affection so discovered and sounded1 even to the very bottome of each others heart and entrails1 that ,i did not only know his1 as well as mine owne1 but ,i would 7verily7 rather have trusted him concerning any matter of mine1 than my selfe4 ,let no man compare any of the other common friendships to this4 ,i have as much knowledge of them as another1 yea of the perfectest of their kinde3 yet wil ,i not perswade any man to confound their rules1 for so a man might be deceived4 ,in these other strict friendships a man must march with the bridle of wisdome and precaution in his hand3 the bond is not so strictly tied but a man may in some sort distrust the same4 ,love him 7said ,chilon7 as if you should one day hate him againe4 ,hate him as if you should love him againe4 ,this precept1 so abhominable in this soveraigne and mistris ,amitie1 is necessarie and wholesome in the use of vulgar and customarie friendships3 toward which a man must employ the saying ,aristotle was wont so often repeat1 ,oh you my friends1 there is no perfect friend4 ,in this noble commerce1 offices and benefits 7nurses of other amities7 deserve not so much as to bee accounted of3 this confusion so full of our wills is cause of it3 for even as the friendship ,i beare unto my selfe1 admits no accrease1 ,footnote3 ,increase4 by any succour ,i give my selfe in any time of need1 whatsoever the ,stoickes allege2 and as ,i acknowledge no thanks unto my selfe for any service ,i doe unto myselfe1 so the union of such friends1 being truly perfect1 makes them lose the feeling of such duties1 and hate1 and expell from one another these words of division1 and difference3 benefit1 good deed1 dutie1 obligation1 acknowledgement1 prayer1 thanks1 and such their like4 ,all things being by effect common betweene them2 wils1 thoughts1 judgements1 goods1 wives1 children1 honour1 and life2 and their mutual agreement1 being no other than one soule in two bodies1 according to the fit definition of ,aristotle1 they can neither lend or give ought to each other4 ,see here the reason why ,lawmakers1 to honour marriage with some imaginary resemblance of this divine bond1 inhibite donations between husband and wife2 meaning thereby to inferre1 that all things should peculiarly bee proper to each of them1 and that they have nothing to divide and share together4 ,if in the friendship whereof ,i speake1 one might give unto another1 the receiver of the benefit should binde his fellow4 ,for1 each seeking more than any other thing to doe each other good1 he who yeelds both matter and occasion1 is the man sheweth himselfe liberall1 giving his friend that contentment1 to effect towards him what he desireth most4 ,when the ,philosopher ,diogenes wanted money1 he was wont to say that he redemanded the same of his friends1 and not that he demanded it3 ,and to show how that is practised by effect1 ,i will relate an ancient singular example4 ,eudamidas the ,corinthiam had two friends3 ,charixenus a ,sycionian1 and ,aretheus a ,corinthian2 being upon his death-bed1 and very poore1 and his two friends very rich1 thus made his last will and testament3 ,to ,aretheus1 ,i bequeath the keeping of my mother1 and to maintaine her when she shall be old3 ,to ,charixenus the marrying of my daughter1 and to give her as great a dowry as he may3 and in case one of them shall chance to die before1 ,i appoint the survivor to substitute his charge1 and supply his place4 ,those that first saw this testament laughed and mocked at the same2 but his heires being advertised thereof1 were very well pleased1 and received it with singular contentment4 ,and ,charixenus1 one of them1 dying five daies after ,eudamidas1 the substitution being declared in favour of ,aretheus1 he carefully and very kindly kept and maintained his mother1 and of five talents that he was worth he gave two and a halfe in marriage to one only daughter he had1 and the other two and a halfe to the daughter of ,eudamidas1 whom he married both in one day4 ,this example is very ample1 if one thing were not1 which is the multitude of friends3 ,for1 this perfect amity ,i speake of1 is indivisible2 each man doth so wholly give himselfe unto his friend1 that he hath nothing left him to divide else-where3 moreover he is grieved that he is not double1 triple1 or quadruple1 and hath not many soules1 or sundry wils1 that he might conferre them all upon this subject4 ,common friendships may bee divided2 a man may love beauty in one1 facility of behaviour in another1 liberality in one1 and wisdome in another1 paternity in this1 fraternity in that man1 and so forth3 but this amitie which possesseth the soule1 and swaies it in all sovereigntie1 it is impossible it should be double4 ,if two at one instant should require helpe1 to which would you run8 ,should they crave contrary offices of you1 what order would you follow8 ,should one commit a matter to your silence1 which if the other knew would greatly profit him1 what course would you take8 ,or how would you discharge your selfe8 ,a singular and principall friendship dissolveth all other duties1 and freeth all other obligations4 ,the secret ,i have sworne not to reveale to another1 ,i may without perjurie impart it unto him1 who is no other but my selfe4 ,it is a great and strange wonder for a man to double himselfe2 and those that talke of tripling know not1 nor cannot reach into the height of it4 ,nothing is extreme that hath his like4 ,and he who shal presuppose that of two ,i love the one as wel as the other1 and that they enter-love ,footnote3 ,love mutually4 one another1 and love me as much as ,i love them3 he multiplied6 in brotherhood1 a thing most singular1 and a lonely one1 and than which one alone is also the rarest to be found in the world4 ,the remainder of this history agreeth very wel with what ,i said2 for1 ,eudamidas giveth us a grace and favor to his friends to employ them in his need3 he leaveth them as his heires of his liberality1 which consisteth in putting the meanes into their hands to doe him good4 ,and doubtlesse the force of friendship is much more richly shewen in his deed than in ,aretheus4 ,to conclude1 they are imaginable effects to him that hath not tasted them2 and which makes me wonderfully to honor the answer of that young ,souldier to ,cyrus1 who enquiring of him what he would take for a horse with which he had lately gained the prize of a race1 and whether he would change him for a ,kingdome8 ,no surely1 my ,liege 7said he71 yet would ,i willingly forgot him to game a true friend1 could ,i but finde a man worthy of so precious an alliance4 ,he said not ill1 in saying could ,i but finde4 ,for1 a man shall easily finde men fit for a superficiall acquaintance2 but in this1 wherein men negotiate from the very centre of their harts1 and make no spare of any thing1 it is most requisite all the wards and springs be sincerely wrought and perfectly true4 ,in confederacies1 which hold but by one end1 men have nothing to provide for1 but for the imperfections1 which particularly doe interest and concerne that end and respect4 ,it is no great matter what religion my ,physician or ,lawyer is of3 this consideration hath nothing common with the offices of that friendship they owe mee4 ,so doe ,i in the familiar acquaintances that those who serve me contract with me4 ,i am nothing inquisitive whether a ,lackey be chaste or no1 but whether he be diligent3 ,i feare not a gaming ,muletier1 so much as if he be weake3 nor a hot swearing ,cooke1 as one that is ignorant and unskilfull2 ,i never meddle with saying what a man should doe in the world2 there are over many others that doe it2 but what my selfe doe in the world4 ,mihi sic usus est3 ,tibi1 ut opus est facto1 face ,footnote3 ,ter4 ,heau4 act4 i4 sc4 i1 #bh4 ,so is it requisite for me3 ,doe thou as needfull is for thee4 ,concerning familiar table-talke1 ,i rather acquaint my selfe with and follow a merry conceited ,footnote3 ,fanciful humour1 than a wise man3 ,and in bed ,i rather prefer beauty than goodnesse2 and in society or conversation of familiar discourse1 ,i respect rather sufficiency1 though without ,preud'hommie1 ,footnote3 ,probity4 and so of all things else4 ,even as he that was found riding upon an hobby-horse1 playing with his children besought him who thus surprized him not to speake of it untill he were a father himselfe1 supposing the tender fondnesse and fatherly passion which then would posesse his minde should make him an impartiall judge of such an action2 so would ,i wish to speake to such as had tried what ,i speake of3 but knowing how far such an amitie is from the common use1 and how seld scene and rarely found1 ,i looke not to finde a competent judge4 ,for1 even the discourses1 which sterne antiquitie hath left us concerning this subject1 seeme to me but faint and forcelesse in respect of the feeling ,i have of it2 ,and in that point the effects exceed the very precepts of ,philosophie4 ,nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 i4 ,sat4 vii4 #dd ,for me1 be ,i well in my wit1 ,nought1 as a merry friend1 so fit4 ,ancient ,menander accounted him happy that had but met the shadow of a true friend3 verily he had reason to say so1 especially if he had tasted of any3 for truly1 if ,i compare all the rest of my forepassed life1 which although ,i have1 by the meere mercy of ,god1 past at rest and ease1 and except the losse of so deare a friend1 free from all grievous affliction1 with an ever-quietnesse of minde1 as one that have taken my naturall and originall commodities in good payment1 without searching any others3 if1 as ,i say1 ,i compare it all unto the foure yeares ,i so happily enjoied the sweet company and deare- deare society of that worthy man1 it is nought but a vapour1 nought but a darke and yrkesome light4 ,since the time ,i lost him1 quem semper acerbum1 ,semper honoratum 7sic ,dii voluistis7 habebo1 ,footnote3 ,virg4 ,a,en4 iii4 #di4 ,which ,i shall ever hold a bitter day1 ,yet ever honour'd 7so my ,god t' obey71 ,i doe but languish1 ,i doe but sorrow3 and even those pleasures1 all things present me with1 in stead of yeelding me comfort1 doe but redouble the griefe of his losse4 ,we were copartners in all things4 ,all things were with us at halfe2 me thinkes ,i have stolne his part from him4 --,nee fas esse iilla me voluptate hic frui ,decrevi1 tantisper dum ille abest meus particeps4 ,footnote3 ,ter4 ,heau4 act4 i4 sc4 i1 #ig4 ,i have set downe1 no joy enjoy ,i may1 ,as long as he my partner is away4 ,i was so accustomed to be ever two1 and so enured ,footnote3 ,accustomed to be never single1 that me thinks ,i am but halfe my selfe4 ,illam mea si partem animce tulit1 ,maturior vis1 quid moror altera4 ,nec charus aeque nec superstes1 ,integer8 ,ille dies utramque ,duxit ruinam4 ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 ii4 ,od4 xvii4 ,since that part of my soule riper fate reft me1 ,why stay ,i heere the other part he left me8 ,nor so deere1 nor entire1 while heere ,i rest3 ,that day hath in one mine both opprest4 ,there is no action can betide me1 or imagination possesse me1 but ,i heare him saying1 as indeed he would have done to me3 for even as he did excell me by an infinite distance in all other sufficiencies and vertues1 so did he in all offices and duties of friendship4 ,quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus1 ,tam chari capitis8 ,footnote3 ,id4 #a4 i4 ,od4 xxiv4 ,what modesty or measure may ,i beare1 ,in want and wish of him that was so deare8 ,o misero frater adempte mihi6 ,omnia tecum una perieruni gaudia nostra4 ,qua tuus in vita dulcis alebat amor4 ,footnote3 ,,catul4 ,eleg4 iv4 #bj1 #ib1 #bf1 #ie4 ,tu mea1 tu moriens fregisti commoda frater4 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #ba4 ,tecum una tota est nostra sepulta anima1 ,cujus ego interitu tota de mente fugavi ,hac studia1 atque omnes delicias animi ,footnote3 ,,catul4 ,bl4 iv4 #id4 ,alloquar8 audiero nunquam tua verba loquentem8 ,footnote3 ,ib4 #be4 ,nunquam ego te vita frater amabilior1 ,aspiciam posthac8 at certe semper amabo4 ,footnote3 ,el4 i4 #i4 ,o brother rest from miserable me1 ,all our delights are perished with thee1 ,which thy sweet love did nourish in my breath4 ,thou all my good hast spoiled in thy death3 ,with thee my soule is all and whole enshrinde1 ,at whose death ,i have cast out of my minde ,all my mindes sweet-meats1 studies of this kinde2 ,never shall ,i1 heare thee speake1 speake with thee8 ,thee brother1 than life dearer1 never see8 ,yet shalt them ever be belov'd of mee4 ,but let us a little feare this yong man speake1 being but sixteene yeares of age4 ,because ,i have found this worke to have since beene published 7and to an ill end7 by such as seeke to trouble and subvert the state of our common-wealth1 nor caring whether they shall reforme it or no2 which they have fondly inserted among other writings of their invention1 ,i have revoked my intent1 which was to place it here4 ,and lest the ,authors memory should any way be interessed with those that could not thoroughly know his opinions and actions1 they shall understand that this subject was by him treated of in his infancie1 only by way of exercise1 as a subject1 common1 bareworne1 and wyer- drawne in a thousand bookes4 ,i will never doubt but he beleeved what he writ1 and writ as he thought3 for hee was so conscientious that no lie did ever passe his lips1 yea were it but in matters of sport or play3 and ,i know1 that had it beene in his choyce1 he would rather have beene borne at ,venice than at ,sarlac2 and good1 reason why3 ,but he had another maxime deepely imprinted in his minde1 which was1 carefully to obey1 and religiously to submit himselfe to the lawes1 under which he was borne4 ,there was never a better citizen1 nor more affected to the welfare and quietnesse of his countrie1 nor a sharper enemie of the changes1 innovations1 newfangles1 and hurly- burlies of his time3 ,he would more willingly have imployed the utmost of his endevours to extinguish and suppresse1 than to favour or further them3 ,his minde was modelled to the patterne of other best ages4 ,but yet in exchange of his serious treatise1 ,i will here set you downe another1 more pithie1 materiall1 and of more consequence1 by him likewise produced at that tender age4 ,,of ,,books ,i make no doubt but it shall often befall me to speake of things which are better1 and with more truth1 handled by such as are their crafts-masters4 ,here is simply an essay of my natural faculties1 and no whit of those ,i have acquired4 ,and he that shall tax me with ignorance shall have no great victory at my hands2 for hardly could ,i give others reasons for my discourses that give none unto my selfe1 and am not well satisfied with them4 ,he that shall make search after knowledge1 let him seek it where it is there is nothing ,i professe lesse4 ,these are but my fantasies by which ,i endevour not to make things known1 but my selfe4 ,they may haply one day be knowne unto me1 or have bin at other times1 according as fortune hath brought me where they were declared or manifested4 ,but ,i remember them no more4 ,and if ,i be a man of some reading1 yet ,i am a man of no remembering1 ,i conceive no certainty1 except it bee to give notice how farre the knowledge ,i have of it doth now reach4 ,let no man busie himselfe about the matters1 but on the fashion ,i give them4 ,let that which ,i borrow be survaied1 and then tell me whether ,i have made good choice of ornaments to beautifie and set foorth the invention which ever comes from mee4 ,for ,i make others to relate 7not after mine owne fantasie but as it best falleth out7 what ,i cannot so well expresse1 either through unskill of language or want of judgement4 ,i number not my borrowings1 but ,i weigh them4 ,and if ,i would have made their number to prevail1 ,i would have had twice as many4 ,they are all1 or almost all1 of so famous and ancient names1 that me thinks they sufficiently name themselves without mee4 ,if in reasons1 comparisons1 and arguments1 ,i transplant any into my soile1 or confound them with mine owne1 ,i purposely conceale the author1 thereby to bridle the rashnesse of these hastie censures that are so headlong cast upon all manner of compositions1 namely young writings of men yet living2 and in vulgare that admit all the world to talke of them1 and which seemeth to convince the conception and publike designe alike4 ,i will have them to give ,plutarch a barb ,footnote3 ,thrust1 taunt upon mine own lips1 and vex themselves in wronging ,seneca in mee4 ,my weaknesse must be hidden under such great credits4 ,i will love him that shal trace or unfeather me2 ,i meane through clearenesse of judgement1 and by the onely distinction of the force and beautie of my discourses4 ,for my selfe1 who for want of memorie am ever to seeke how to trie and refine them by the knowledge of their country1 knowe perfectly1 by measuring mine owne strength1 that my soyle is no way capable of some over-pretious flowers that therein ,i find set1 and that all the fruits of my increase could not make it amends4 ,this am ,i bound to answer for if ,i hinder my selfe1 if there be either vanitie or fault in my discourses that ,i perceive not or am not able to discerne if they be showed me4 ,for many faults do often escape our eyes2 but the infirmitie of judgement consisteth in not being able to perceive them when another discovereth them unto us4 ,knowledge and truth may be in us without judgement1 and we may have judgment without them3 yea1 the acknowledgement of ignorance is one of the best and surest testimonies of judgement that ,i can finde4 ,i have no other sergeant of band to marshall my rapsodies than fortune4 ,and looke how my humours or conceites present themselves1 so ,i shuffle them up4 ,sometimes they prease out thicke and three fold1 and other times they come out languishing one by one4 ,i will have my naturall and ordinarie pace scene as loose and as shuffling as it is4 ,as ,i am1 so ,i goe on plodding4 ,and besides1 these are matters that a man may not be ignorant of1 and rashly and casually to speake of them4 ,i would wish to have a more perfect understanding of things1 but ,i will not purchase it so deare as it cost4 ,my intention is to passe the remainder of my life quietly and not laboriously1 in rest and not in care4 ,there is nothing ,i will trouble or vex myselfe about1 no not for science it selfe1 what esteeme soever it be of4 ,i doe not search and tosse over books but for an honester recreation to please1 and pastime to delight my selfe3 or if ,i studie1 ,i only endevour to find out the knowledge that teacheth or handleth the knowledge of my selfe1 and which may instruct me how to die well and how to live well4 ,has meus ad metas sudet oportet equus4 ,footnote3 ,propeet4 #a4 iv4 ,el4 i4 #gj ,my horse must sweating runne1 ,that this goale may be wonne4 ,if in reading ,i fortune to meet with any difficult points1 ,i fret not my selfe about them1 but after ,i have given them a charge or two1 ,i leave them as ,i found them4 ,should ,i earnestly plod upon them1 ,i should loose both time and my selfe1 for ,i have a skipping wit4 ,what ,i see not at the first view1 ,i shall lesse see it if ,i opinionate my selfe upon it4 ,i doe nothing without blithnesse2 and an over obstinate continuation and plodding contention doth dazle1 dul1 and wearie the same3 my sight is thereby confounded and diminished4 ,i must therefore withdraw it1 and at fittes goe to it againe4 ,even as to judge well of the lustre of scarlet we are taught to cast our eyes over it1 in running over by divers glances1 sodaine glimpses and reiterated reprisings4 ,footnote3 ,repeated observations4 ,if one booke seeme tedious unto me ,i take another1 which ,i follow not with any earnestnesse1 except it be at such houres as ,i am idle1 or that ,i am weary with doing nothing4 ,i am not greatly affected to new books1 because ancient ,authors are1 in my judgement1 more full and pithy3 nor am ,i much addicted to ,greeke books1 forasmuch as my understanding cannot well rid ,footnote3 ,accomplish4 his worke with a childish and apprentise intelligence4 ,amongst moderne bookes meerly pleasant1 ,i esteeme ,bocace his ,decameron1 ,rabelais1 and the kisses of ,john the second 7if they may be placed under this title71 worth the paines-taking to reade them4 ,as for ,amadis and such like trash of writings1 they had never the credit so much as to allure my youth to delight in them4 ,this ,i will say more1 either boldly or rashly1 that this old and heavie-pased minde of mine will no more be pleased with ,aristotle1 or tickled with good ,ovid3 his facility and quaint inventions1 which heretofore have so ravished me1 they can now a days scarcely entertaine me4 ,i speake my minde freely of all things1 yea1 of such as peradventure exceed my sufficiencie1 and that no way ,i hold to be of my jurisdiction4 ,what my conceit is of them is told also to manifest the proportion of my insight1 and not the measure of things4 ,if at any time ,i finde my selfe distasted of ,platoes ,axiochus1 as of a forceles worke1 due regard had to such an ,author1 my judgement doth nothing beleeve it selfe3 ,it is not so fond-hardy1 or selfe-conceited1 as it durst dare to oppose it selfe against the authority of so many other famous ancient judgements1 which he reputeth his regents and masters1 and with whom hee had rather erre4 ,he chafeth with1 and condemneth himselfe1 either to rely on the superficiall sense1 being unable to pierce into the centre1 or to view the thing by some false lustre4 ,he is pleased only to warrant himselfe from trouble and unrulinesse3 ,as for weaknesse1 he acknowledgeth and ingeniously avoweth the same4 ,he thinks to give a just interpretation to the apparences which his conception presents unto him1 but they are shallow and imperfect4 ,most of ,a,esopes fables have divers senses1 and severall interpretations3 ,those which ,mythologize them1 chuse some kinde of colour well suting with the fable2 but for the most part1 it is no other than the first and superficiall glosse3 ,there are others more quicke1 more sinnowie1 more essentiall1 and more internall1 into which they could never penetrate2 and thus thinke ,i with them4 ,but to follow my course1 ,i have ever deemed that in ,poesie1 ,virgil1 ,lucretius1 ,catullus1 and ,horace1 doe doubtles by far hold the first ranke3 and especially ,virgil in his ,georgiks1 which ,i esteeme to be the most accomplished peece of worke of ,poesie3 ,in comparison of which one may easily discerne1 that there are some passages in the ,a,eneidos to which the ,author 7had he lived7 would no doubt have given some review or correction3 ,the fifth booke whereof is 7in my mind7 the most absolutely perfect4 ,i also love ,lucan1 and willingly read him1 not so much for his stile1 as for his owne worth and truth of his opinion and judgement4 ,as for good ,terence1 ,i allow the quaintnesse and grace of his ,latine tongue1 and judge him wonderfull conceited and apt1 lively to represent the motions and passions of the minde1 and the condition of our manners3 our actions make me often remember him4 ,i can never reade him so often but still ,i discover some new grace and beautie in him4 ,those that lived about ,virgil's time1 complained that some would compare ,lucretius unto him4 ,i am of opinion that verily it is an unequall comparison2 yet can ,i hardly assure my selfe in this opinion whensoever ,i finde my selfe entangled in some notable passage of ,lucretius4 ,if they were moved at this comparison1 what would they say now of the fond1 hardy and barbarous stupiditie of those which now adayes compare ,ariosto unto him8 ,nay1 what would ,ariosto say of it himselfe8 ,o seclum insipiens et infacetutn4 ,footnote3 ,catul4 ,epig1 xl4 #h4 ,o age that hath no wit1 ,and small conceit in it4 ,i thinke our ancestors had also more reason to cry out against those that blushed not to equall ,plautus unto ,terence 7who makes more show to be a ,gentleman7 than ,lucretius unto ,virgil4 ,this one thing doth greatly advantage the estimation and preferring of ,terence1 that the father of the ,roman eloquence1 of men of his quality doth so often make mention of him2 and the censure ,footnote3 ,opinion4 which the chiefe ,judge of the ,roman ,poets giveth of his companion4 ,it hath often come unto my minde1 how such as in our dayes give themselves to composing of comedies 7as the ,italians who are very happy in them7 employ three or foure arguments of ,terence and ,plautus to make up one of theirs4 ,in one onely comedy they will huddle up five or six of ,bocaces tales4 ,that which makes them so to charge themselves with matter1 is the distrust they have of their owne sufficiency1 and that they are not able to undergoe so heavie a burthen with their owne strength4 ,they are forced to finde a body on which they may rely and leane themselves3 and wanting matter of their owne wherewith to please us1 they will have the story or tale to busie and ammuse us3 where as in my ,authors it is cleane contrary3 ,the elegancies1 the perfections and ornaments of his manner of speech1 make us neglect and lose the longing for his subject4 ,his quaintnesse and grace doe still retaine us to him4 ,he is every where pleasantly conceited1 ,footnote3 ,full of pleasant notions4 ,liquidus puroque simillimus amni ,footnote3 ,hor4 #a4 ii4 ,epist4 ,,ii4 #abj4 ,so clearely-neate1 so neately-cleare1 ,as he a fine-pure ,river were1 and doth so replenish our minde with his graces that we forget those of the fable4 ,the same consideration drawes me somewhat further4 ,i perceive that good and ancient ,poets have shunned the affectation and enquest1 not only of fantasticall1 new fangled1 ,spagniolized1 and ,petrarchisticall elevations1 but also of more sweet and sparing inventions1 which are the ornament of all the ,poeticall workes of succeeding ages4 ,yet is there no competent ,judge that findeth them wanting in those ,ancient ones1 and that doth not much more admire that smoothly equall neatnesse1 continued sweetnesse1 and flourishing comelinesse of ,catullus his ,epigrams1 than all the sharpe quips and witty girds wherewith ,martiall doth whet and embellish the conclusions of his4 ,it is the same reason ,i spake of erewhile1 as ,martiall of himselfe4 ,minus illi ingenio laborandum fuit1 in cuius locum materia successerat4 ,footnote3 ,mart4 ,praf4 #a4 viii4 ,he needed the lesse worke with his wit1 in place whereof matter came in supply4 ,the former without being moved or pricked cause themselves to be heard lowd enough3 they have matter to laugh at every where1 and need not tickle themselves2 where as these must have foraine helpe3 according as they have lesse spirit1 they must have more body4 ,they leape on horsebacke1 because they are not sufficiently strong in their legs to march on foot4 ,even as in our dances1 those base conditioned men that keepe dancing-schooles1 because they are unfit to represent the port and decencie of our nobilitie1 endevour to get commendation by dangerous lofty trickes1 and other strange tumbler-like friskes and motions4 ,and some ,ladies make a better shew of their countenances in those dances1 wherein are divers changes1 cuttings1 turnings1 and agitations of the body1 than in some dances of state and gravity1 where they need but simply to tread a naturall measure1 represent an unaffected cariage1 and their ordinary grace2 ,and as ,i have also seene some excellent ,lourdans1 or ,clownes1 attired in their ordinary worky-day clothes1 and with a common homely countenance1 affoord us all the pleasure that may be had from their art3 but prentises and learners that are not of so high a forme1 besmeare their faces1 to disguise themselves1 and in motions counterfeit strange visages and antickes1 to enduce us to laughter4 ,this my conception is no where better discerned than in the comparison betweene ,virgils ,a,eneidos and ,orlando ,furioso4 ,the first is seene to soare aloft with full-spread wings1 and with so high and strong a pitch1 ever following his point2 the other faintly to hover and flutter from tale to tale1 and as it were skipping from bough to bough1 always distrusting his owne wings1 except it be for some short flight1 and for feare his strength and breath should faile him1 to sit downe at every fields- end2 ,excursusque breves tentat4 ,footnote3 ,virg4 ,a,en4 #a4 iv4 #aid4 ,out-lopes ,footnote3 ,wanderings out4 sometimes he doth assay1 ,but very short1 and as he may4 ,loe here then1 concerning this kinde of subjects1 what ,authors please me best3 ,as for my other lesson1 which somewhat more mixeth profit with pleasure1 whereby ,i learne to range my opinions and addresse my conditions1 the ,bookes that serve me thereunto are ,plutarke 7since he spake ,footnote3 ,was translated by ,angot ,french7 and ,seneca2 both have this excellent commodity for my humour1 that the knowledge ,i seeke in them is there so scatteringly and loosely handled1 that whosoever readeth them is not tied to plod long upon them1 whereof ,i am uncapable4 ,and so are ,plutarkes little workes and ,senecas ,epistles1 which are the best and most profitable parts of their writings4 ,it is no great matter to draw mee to them1 and ,i leave them where ,i list4 ,for they succeed not and depend not one of another4 ,both jumpe ,footnote3 ,agree and suit together1 in most true and profitable opinions3 ,and fortune brought them both into the world in one age4 ,both were ,tutors unto two ,roman ,emperours3 ,both were strangers1 and came from farre ,countries2 both rich and mighty in the common-wealth1 and in credit with their masters4 ,their instruction is the prime and creame of ,philosophy1 and presented with a plaine1 unaffected1 and pertinent fashion4 ,plutarke is more uniforme and constant2 ,seneca more waving and diverse4 ,this doth labour1 force1 and extend himselfe1 to arme and strengthen vertue against weaknesse1 feare1 and vitious desires2 the other seemeth nothing so much to feare their force or attempt1 and in a manner scorneth to hasten or change his pace about them1 and to put himselfe upon his guard4 ,plutarkes opinions are ,platonicall1 gentle and accommodable unto civill societie3 ,senecaes ,stoicall and ,epicurian1 further from common use1 but in my conceit ,footnote3 ,opinion4 more proper1 particular1 and more solid4 ,it appeareth in ,seneca that he somewhat inclineth and yeeldeth to the tyrannic of the ,emperors which were in his daies2 for ,i verily believe1 it is with a forced judgement he condemneth the cause of those noblie- minded murtherers of ,caesar2 ,plutarke is every where free and open hearted2 ,seneca full-fraught with points and sallies2 ,plutarke stuft with matters4 ,the former doth move and enflame you more2 the latter content1 please1 and pay you better3 ,this doth guide you1 the other drive you on4 ,as for ,cicero1 of all his works1 those that treat of ,philosophie 7namely morall7 are they which best serve my turne1 and square with my intent4 ,but boldly to confess the truth 7for1 since the bars of impudencie were broken downe1 all curbing is taken away71 his manner of writing seemeth verie tedious unto me1 as doth all such like stuffe4 ,for his prefaces1 definitions1 divisions1 and ,etymologies consume the greatest part of his works2 whatsoever quick1 wittie1 and pithie conceit is in him is surcharged and confounded by those his long and far-fetcht preambles4 ,if ,i bestow but one hour in reading them1 which is much for me1 and let me call to minde what substance or juice ,i have drawne from him1 for the most part ,i find nothing but wind and ostentation in him2 for he is not yet come to the arguments which make for his purpose1 and reasons that properly concerne the knot or pith ,i seek after4 ,these ,logicall and ,aristotelian ordinances are not avail full for me1 who onely endeavour to become more wise and sufficient1 and not more wittie or eloquent4 ,i would have one begin with the last point3 ,i understand sufficiently what death and voluptuousnesse are3 let not a man busie himselfe to anatomize them4 ,at the first reading of a booke ,i seeke for good and solid reasons that may instruct me how to sustaine their assaults4 ,it is neither grammaticall subtilties nor logicall quiddities1 nor the wittie contexture of choice words or arguments and syllogismes1 that will serve my turne4 ,i like those discourses that give the first charge to the strongest part of the doubt2 his are but flourishes1 and languish everywhere4 ,they are good for schooles1 at the barre1 or for ,orators and ,preachers1 where we may slumber3 and though we wake a quarter of an houre after1 we may finde and trace him soone enough4 ,such a manner of speech is fit for those judges that a man would corrupt by hooke or crooke1 by right or wrong1 or for children and the common people1 unto whom a man must tell all1 and see what the event would be4 ,i would not have a man go about and labour by circumlocutions to induce and winne me to attention1 and that 7as our ,heralds or ,criers do7 they shall ring out their words3 ,now heare me1 now listen1 or ho-yes4 ,footnote3 ,oyez1 hear4 ,the ,romanes in their religion were wont to say1 ,hoc age2 ,footnote3 ,do this4 which in ours we say1 ,sursum corda4 ,footnote3 ,lift up your hearts4 ,there are so many lost words for me4 ,i come readie prepared from my house4 ,i neede no allurement nor sawce1 my stomacke is good enough to digest raw meat3 ,and whereas with these preparatives and flourishes1 or preambles1 they thinke to sharpen my taste or stir my stomacke1 they cloy and make it wallowish4 ,footnote3 ,mawkish4 ,shall the privilege of times excuse me from this sacrilegious boldnesse1 to deem ,platoes ,dialogismes to be as languishing1 by over-filling and stuffing his matter8 ,and to bewaile the time that a man who had so many thousands of things to utter1 spends about so many1 so long1 so vaine1 and idle interloqutions1 and preparatives8 ,my ignorance shall better excuse me1 in that ,i see nothing in the beautie of his language4 ,i generally enquire after bookes that use sciences1 and not after such as institute them4 ,the two first1 and ,plinie1 with others of their ranke1 have no ,hoc age in them1 they will have to doe with men that have forewarned themselves2 or if they have1 it is a materiall and substantial6 ,hoc age1 and that hath his bodie apart ,i likewise love to read the ,epistles and ad ,atticum1 not onely because they containe a most ample instruction of the historic and affaires of his times1 but much more because in them ,i descrie his private humours4 ,for 7as ,i have said elsewhere7 ,i am wonderfull curious to discover and know the minde1 the soul1 the genuine disposition and naturall judgement of my authors4 ,a man ought to judge their sufficiencie and not their customes1 nor them by the shew of their writings1 which they set forth on this world's theatre4 ,i have sorrowed a thousand times that ever we lost the booke that ,brutus writ of ,vertue4 ,oh it is a goodly thing to learne the ,theorike of such as understand the practice well4 ,but forsomuch as the ,sermon is one thing and the ,preacher an other1 ,i love as much to see ,brutus in ,plutarke as in himself3 ,i would rather make choice to know certainly what talk he had in his tent with some of his familiar friends1 the night fore-going the battell1 than the speech he made the morrow after to his ,armie2 and what he did in his chamber or closet1 than what in the senate or market place4 ,as for ,cicero1 ,i am of the common judgement1 that besides learning there was no exquisite ,footnote3 ,overelaborate4 eloquence in him3 ,he was a good citizen1 of an honest1 gentle nature1 as are commonly fat and burly men3 for so was he3 ,but to speake truly of thim8 full of ambitious vanity and remisse niceness4 ,footnote3 ,ineffectual fastidiousness4 ,and ,i know not well how to excuse him1 in that he deemed his ,poesie worthy to be published4 ,it is no great imperfection to make bad verses1 but it is an imperfection in him that he never perceived how unworthy they were of the glorie of his name4 ,concerning his eloquence1 it is beyond all comparison1 and ,i verily beleeve that none shall ever equall it4 ,cicero the younger1 who resembled his father in nothing but in name1 commanding in ,asia1 chanced one day to have many strangers at his board1 and amongst others1 one ,caestius sitting at the lower end1 as the manner is to thrust in at great mens tables3 ,cicero inquired of one of his men what he was1 who told him his name1 but he dreaming on other matters1 and having forgotten what answere his man made him1 asked him his name twice or thrice more3 the servant1 because he would not be troubled to tell him one thing so often1 and by some circumstance to make him to know him better1 ,it is1 said he1 the same ,caestius of whom some have told you that1 in respect of his owne1 maketh no accompt of your fathers eloquence3 ,cicero being suddainly mooved1 commanded the said poore ,caestius to be presently taken from the table1 and well whipt in his presence3 ,lo heere an uncivill and barbarous host4 ,even amongst those which 7all things considered7 have deemed his eloquence matchlesse and incomparable1 others there have been who have not spared to note some faults in it4 ,as great ,brutus said1 that it was an eloquence broken1 halting1 and disjoynted1 fractam et elumbem3 ,incoherent and sinnowlesse4 ,those ,orators that lived about his age1 reproved also in him the curious care he had of a certaine long cadence at the end of his clauses1 and noted these words1 esse videatur1 which he so often useth4 ,as for me1 ,i rather like a cadence that falleth shorter1 cut like ,iambikes3 yet doth he sometimes confounde his numbers1 ,footnote3 ,confuse his rhythm4 but it is seldome3 ,i have especially observed this one place3 ,ego vero me minus diu senem esse mallem1 quam esse senem1 antequam essem8 ,footnote3 ,cic4 ,de ,senect4 ,but ,i had rather not be an old man1 so long as ,i might be1 than to be old before ,i should be4 ,historians are my right hand1 for they are pleasant and easie2 and therewithall the man with whom ,i desire generally to be acquainted may more lively and perfectly be discovered in them than in any other composition3 the varictic and truth of his inward conditions1 in grosse and by retale3 the diversitie of the meanes of his collection and composing1 and of the accidents that threaten him4 ,now those that write of mens lives1 forasmuch as they ammuse and busie themselves more about counsels than events1 more about that which commeth from within than that which appeareth outward2 they are fittest for me3 ,and that's the reason why ,plutarke above all in that kind doth best please me4 ,indeed ,i am not a little grieved that we have not a dozen of ,laertius1 or that he is not more knowne1 or better understood2 for ,i am no lesse curious to know the fortunes and lives of these great masters of the world than to understand the diversitie of their decrees and conceits4 ,in this kind of studie of historie a man must1 without distinction1 tosse and turne over all sorts of ,authors1 both old and new1 both ,french and others1 if he will learne the things they so diversly treat of4 ,but me thinkes that ,caesar above all doth singularly deserve to be studied1 not onely for the understanding of the historie as of himselfe2 so much perfection and excellencie is there in him more than in others1 although ,salust be reckoned one of the number4 ,verily ,i read that author with a little more reverence and respects than commonly men reade profane and humane ,workes3 sometimes considering him by his actions and wonders of his greatnesse1 and other times waighing the puritie and inimitable polishing and elegancie of his tongue1 which 7as ,cicero saith7 hath not onely exceeded all historians1 but haply ,cicero himselfe3 with such sinceritie in his judgement1 speaking of his enemies1 that except the false colours wherewith he goeth about to cloake his bad cause1 and the corruption and filthinesse of his pestilent ambition1 ,i am perswaded there is nothing in him to be found fault with3 and that he hath been over-sparing to speake of himselfe2 for so many notable and great things could never be executed by him1 unlesse he had put more of his owne into them than he setteth downe4 ,i love those ,historians that are either very simple or most excellent4 ,the simple who have nothing of their owne to adde unto the storie and have but the care and diligence to collect whatsoever come to their knowledge1 and sincerely and faithfully to register all things1 without choice or culling1 by the naked truth leave our judgment more entire and better satisfied4 ,such amongst others 7for examples sake7 plaine and well-meaning ,froissard1 who in his enterprise hath marched with so free and genuine a puritie1 that having committed some oversight1 he is neither ashamed to acknowledge nor afraid to correct the same1 wheresoever he hath either notice or warning of it2 and who representeth unto us the diversitie of the newes then current and the different reports that were made unto him4 ,the subject of an historie should be naked1 bare1 and formelesse2 each man according to his capacitie or understanding may reap commoditie out of it4 ,the curious and most excellent have the sufficiencie to cull and chuse that which is worthie to be knowne and may select of two relations that which is most likely3 from the condition of ,princes and of their humours1 they conclude their counsels and attribute fit words to them3 they assume a just authoritie and bind our faith to theirs4 ,but truly that belongs not to many4 ,such as are betweene both 7which is the most common fashion71 it is they that spoil all2 they will needs chew our meat for us and take upon them a law to judge1 and by consequence to square and encline the storie according to their fantasie2 for1 where the judgement bendeth one way1 a man cannot chuse but wrest and turne his narration that way4 ,they undertake to chuse things worthy to bee knowne1 and now and then conceal either a word or a secret action from us1 which would much better instruct us3 omitting such things as they understand not as incredible3 and haply such matters as they know not how to declare1 either in good ,latin or tolerable ,french4 ,let them boldly enstall their eloquence and discourse3 ,let them censure at their pleasure1 but let them also give us leave to judge after them3 ,and let them neither alter nor dispense by their abridgements and choice anything belonging to the substance of the matter2 but let them rather send it pure and entire with all her dimensions unto us4 ,most commonly 7as chiefly in our age7 this charge of writing histories is committed unto base1 ignorant1 and mechanicall kind of people1 only for this consideration that they can speake well2 as if we sought to learne the ,grammer of them2 and they have some reason1 being only hired to that end1 and publishing nothing but their tittle-tattle to aime at nothing else so much4 ,thus with store of choice and quaint words1 and wyre drawne phrases1 they huddle up and make a hodge-pot of a laboured contexture of the reports which they gather in the market places or such other assemblies4 ,the only good histories are those that are written by such as commanded or were imploied themselves in weighty affaires or that were partners in the conduct of them1 or that at least have had the fortune to manage others of like qualitie4 ,such in a manner are all the ,graecians and ,romans4 ,for many eye-witnesses having written of one same subject 7as it hapned in those times when ,greatnesse and ,knowledge did commonly meet7 if any fault or over-sight have past them1 it must be deemed exceeding light and upon some doubtful accident4 ,what may a man expect at a ,phisitians hand that discourseth of warre1 or of a bare ,scholler treating of ,princes secret designes8 ,if we shall but note the religion which the ,romans had in that1 wee need no other example3 ,asinius ,pollio found some mistaking or oversight in ,caesars ,commentaries1 whereinto he was falne1 only because he could not possiblie oversee all things with his owne eyes that hapned in his ,armie1 but was faine to rely on the reports of particular men1 who often related untruths unto him3 or else because he had not been curiously advertized ,footnote3 ,minutely informed4 and distinctly enformed by his ,lieutenants and ,captaines of such matters as they in his absence had managed or effected4 ,whereby may be seen that nothing is so hard or so uncertaine to be found out as the certaintie of the truth1 sithence ,footnote3 ,since4 no man can put any assured confidence concerning the truth of a battel1 neither in the knowledge of him that was ,generall or commanded over it1 nor in the soldiers that fought1 of anything that hath hapned amongst them2 except after the manner of a strict point of law1 the severall witnesses are brought and examined face to face1 and that all matters be nicely and thorowly sifted by the objects and trials of the successe of every accident4 ,verily the knowledge we have of our owne affaires is much more barren and feeble4 ,but this hath sufficiently been handled by ,bodin1 and agreeing with my conception4 ,somewhat to aid the weaknesse of my memorie and to assist her great defects2 for it hath often been my chance to light upon bookes which ,i supposed to be new and never to have read1 which ,i had not understanding diligently read and run over many years before1 and all bescribled with my notes2 ,i have a while since accustomed my selfe to note at the end of my booke 7,i meane such as ,i purpose to read but once7 the time ,i made an end to read it1 and to set downe what censure or judgement ,i gave of it2 that so it may at least at another time represent unto my mind the aire and generall idea ,i had conceived of the ,author in reading him4 ,i will here set downe the ,copie of some of my annotations1 and especially what ,i noted upon my ,guicciardine about ten yeares since3 7,for what language soever my books speake unto me ,i speake unto them in mine owne47 ,he is a diligent ,historiographer and from whom in my conceit a man may as exactly learne the truth of such affaires as passed in his time1 as of any other writer whatsoever3 and the rather because himselfe hath been an ,actor of most part of them and in verie honourable place4 ,there is no signe or apparance that ever he disguised or coloured any matter1 either through hatred1 malice1 favour1 or vanitie2 whereof the free and impartiall judgements he giveth of great men1 and namely of those by whom he had been advanced or imployed in his important charges1 as of ,pope ,clement the seaventh1 beareth undoubted testimony4 ,concerning the parts wherein he most goeth about to prevaile1 which are his digressions and discourses1 many of them are verie excellent and enriched with faire ornaments1 but he hath too much pleased himselfe in them3 for endeavouring to omit nothing that might be spoken1 having so full and large a subject1 and almost infinite1 he proveth somewhat languishing1 and giveth a taste of a kind of scholasticall tedious babling4 ,moreover1 ,i have noted this1 that of so severall and divers armes1 successes1 and effects he judgeth of2 of so many and variable motives1 alterations1 and counsels1 that he relateth1 he never referreth any one unto vertue1 religion or conscience3 as if they were all extinguished and banished the world4 ,and of all actions how glorious soever in apparance they be of themselves1 he doth ever impute the cause of them to some vicious and blame-worthie occasion1 or to some commoditie and profit4 ,it is impossible to imagine that amongst so infinite a number of actions whereof he judgeth1 some one have not been produced and compassed by way of reason4 ,no corruption could ever possesse men so universally but that some one must of necessity escape the contagion2 which makes me to feare he hath had some distaste or blame in his passion1 and it hath haply fortuned that he hath judged or esteemed of others according to himselfe4 ,in my ,philip de ,comines there is this3 ,in him you shall find a pleasing- sweet and gently-gliding speech1 fraught with a purely sincere simplicitie1 his narration pure and unaffected1 and wherein the ,authours unspotted good meaning doth evidently appeare1 void of all manner of vanitie or ostentation speaking of himselfe1 and free from all affection or envie-speaking of others2 his discourses and perswasions accompanied more with a well-meaning zeale and meere ,footnote3 ,pure4 veritie than with any laboured and exquisite sufficiencie1 and allthrough with gravitie and authoritie1 representing a man well-borne and brought up in high negotiations4 ,upon the ,memoires and historic of ,monsieur du ,bellay3 ,it is ever a well-pleasing thing to see matters written by those that have as said how and in what manner they ought to be directed and managed3 yet can it not be denied but that in both these ,lords there will manifestly appeare a great declination from a free libertie of writing1 which clearely shineth in ancient writers of their kind3 as in the ,lord of louinille1 familiar unto ,saint ,lewis2 ,eginard1 ,chancellor unto ,charlemaine2 and of more fresh memorie in ,philip de ,comines4 ,this is rather a declamation or pleading for ,king ,francis against the ,emperour ,charles the fifth1 than an ,historic4 ,i will not beleeve they have altered or changed any thing concerning the generalitie of matters1 but rather to wrest and turne the judgement of the events many times against reason1 to our advantage1 and to omit whatsoever they supposed to be doubtful or ticklish in their masters life3 they have made a business of it3 witnesse the recoylings of the ,lords of ,momorancy and ,byron1 which therein are forgotten2 and which is more1 you shall not so much as find the name of the ,ladie of ,estampes mentioned at all4 ,a man may sometimes colour and haply hide secret actions1 but absolutely to conceal that which all the world knoweth1 and especially such things as have drawne-on publike effects1 and of such consequence1 it is an inexcusable defect1 or as ,i may say unpardonable oversight4 ,to conclude1 whosoever desireth to have perfect information and knowledge of king ,francis the first1 and of the things hapned in his time1 let him addresse himselfe elsewhere if he will give any credit unto me4 ,the profit he may reap here is by the particular description of the battels and exploits of warre wherein these gentlemen were present2 some privie conferences1 speeches1 or secret actions of some princes that then lived1 and the practices managed1 or negotiations directed by the ,lord of ,langeay1 in which doubtless are verie many things well worthy to be knowne1 and diverse discourses not vulgare4 ,,montaigne ,,what ,,is ,a ,,classic8 ,,by ,,charles-,,augustin ,,sainte-,,beuve ,,translated ,,by ,e4 ,,lee ,,introductory ,,note ,charles ,augustin ,sainte-,beuve1 the foremost ,french critic of the nineteenth century1 and1 in the view of many1 the greatest literary critic of the world1 was born at ,boulogne-sur-,mer1 ,december #bc1 #ahjd4 ,he studied medicine1 but soon abandoned it for literature2 and before he gave himself up to criticism he made some mediocre attempts in poetry and fiction4 ,he became professor at the ,college de ,france and the ,ecole ,normale and was appointed ,senator in #ahfe4 ,a course of lectures given at ,lausanne in #ahcg resulted in his great ,histoire de ,port-,royal and another given at ,liege in his ,chateaubriand et son groupe litteraire4 ,but his most famous productions were his critical essays published periodically in the ,constitutionnel the ,moniteur and the ,temps later collected in sets under the names of ,critiques et ,portraits ,litteraires ,portraits ,contemporains ,causeries du ,lundi and ,nouveaux ,lundis4 ,at the height of his vogue1 these ,monday essays were events of ,european importance4 ,he died in #ahfi4 ,sainte-,beuve's work was much more than literary criticism as that type of writing had been generally conceived before his time4 ,in place of the mere classification of books and the passing of a judgment upon them as good or bad1 he sought to illuminate and explain by throwing light on a literary work from a study of the life1 circumstances1 and aim of the writer1 and by a comparison with the literature of other times and countries4 ,thus his work was historical1 psychological1 and ethical1 as well as esthetic1 and demanded vast learning and a literary outlook of unparalleled breadth4 ,in addition to this equipment he had fine taste and an admirable style2 and by his universality1 penetration1 and balance he raised to a new level the profession of critic4 ,,montaigne ,while the good ship ,france is taking a somewhat haphazard course1 getting into unknown seas1 and preparing to double what the pilots 7if there is a pilot7 call the ,stormy ,cape1 while the look-out at the mast-head thinks he sees the spectre of the giant ,adamastor rising on the horizon1 many honourable and peaceable men continue their work and studies all the same1 and follow out to the end1 or as far as they can1 their favourite hobbies4 ,i know1 at the present time1 a learned man who is collating more carefully than has ever yet been done the different early editions of ,rabelais--editions1 mark you1 of which only one copy remains1 of which a second is not to be found3 from the careful collation of the texts some literary and maybe philosophical result will be derived with regard to the genius of the ,french ,lucian-,aristophanes4 ,i know another scholar whose devotion and worship is given to a very different man--to ,bossuet3 he is preparing a complete1 exact1 detailed history of the life and works of the great bishop4 ,and as tastes differ1 and human fancy is cut into a thousand shapes 7,montaigne said that71 ,montaigne also has his devotees1 he who1 himself1 was so little of one3 a sect is formed round him4 ,in his lifetime he had ,mademoiselle de ,gournay1 his daughter of alliance1 who was solemnly devoted to him2 and his disciple1 ,charron1 followed him closely1 step by step1 only striving to arrange his thoughts with more order and method4 ,in our time amateurs1 intelligent men1 practice the religion under another form3 they devote themselves to collecting the smallest traces of the author of the ,essays1 to gathering up the slightest relics1 and ,dr4 ,payen may be justly placed at the head of the group4 ,for years he has been preparing a book on ,montaigne1 of which the title will be--,michel de ,montaigne1 a collection of unedited or little known facts about the author of the ,essays1 his book1 and his other writings1 about his family1 his friends1 his admirers1 his detractors4 ,while awaiting the conclusion of the book1 the occupation and amusement of a lifetime1 ,dr4 ,payen keeps us informed in short pamphlets of the various works and discoveries made about ,montaigne4 ,if we separate the discoveries made during the last five or six years from the jumble of quarrels1 disputes1 cavilling1 quackery1 and law-suits 7for there have been all those71 they consist in this- - ,in #ahdf ,m4 ,mace found in the 7then7 ,royal ,library1 amongst the ,collection ,du ,puys1 a letter of ,montaigne1 addressed to the king1 ,henri ,,iv41 ,september #b1 #aeij4 ,in #ahdg ,m4 ,payen printed a letter1 or a fragment of a letter of ,montaigne of ,february #af1 #aehh1 a letter corrupt and incomplete1 coming from the collection of the ,comtesse ,boni de ,castellane4 ,but1 most important of all1 in #ahdh1 ,m4 ,horace de ,viel-,castel found in ,london1 at the ,british ,museum1 a remarkable letter of ,montaigne1 ,may #bb1 #aehe1 when ,mayor of ,bordeaux1 addressed to ,m4 de ,matignon1 the king's lieutenant in the town4 ,the great interest of the letter is that it shows ,montaigne for the first time in the full discharge of his office with all the energy and vigilance of which he was capable4 ,the pretended idler was at need much more active than he was ready to own4 ,m4 ,detcheverry1 keeper of the records to the mayoralty of ,bordeaux1 found and published 7#ahej7 a letter of ,montaigne1 while mayor1 to the ,jurats1 or aldermen of the town1 ,july #cj1 #aehe4 ,m4 ,achille ,jubinal found among the manuscripts of the ,national ,library1 and published 7#ahej71 a long1 remarkable letter from ,montaigne to the king1 ,henri ,,iv41 ,january #ah1 #aeij1 which happily coincides with that already found by ,m4 ,mace4 ,lastly1 to omit nothing and do justice to all1 in a ,visit to ,montaigne's ,chateau in ,perigord1 of which the account appeared in #ahej1 ,m4 ,bertrand de ,saint-,germain described the place and pointed out the various ,greek and ,latin inscriptions that may still be read in ,montaigne's tower in the third-storey chamber 7the ground floor counting as the first71 which the philosopher made his library and study4 ,m4 ,payen1 collecting together and criticising in his last pamphlet the various notices and discoveries1 not all of equal importance1 allowed himself to be drawn into some little exaggeration of praise2 but we cannot blame him4 ,admiration1 when applied to such noble1 perfectly innocent1 and disinterested subjects1 is truly a spark of the sacred fire3 it produces research that a less ardent zeal would quickly leave aside1 and sometimes leads to valuable results4 ,however1 it would be well for those who1 following ,m4 ,payen's example1 intelligently understand and greatly admire ,montaigne1 to remember1 even in their ardour1 the advice of the wise man and the master4 ,there is more to do1 said he1 speaking of the commentators of his time1 in interpreting the interpretations than in interpreting the things themselves2 and more bdoks about books than on any other subject4 ,we do nothing1 but everything swarms with commentators2 of authors there is a great rarity4 ,authors are of great price and very scared at all times--that is to say1 authors who really increase the sum of human knowledge4 ,i should like all who write on ,montaigne1 and give us the details of their researches and discoveries1 to imagine one thing1--,montaigne himself reading and criticising them4 ,what would he think of me and the manner in which ,i am going to speak of him to the public8 ,if such a question was put1 how greatly it would suppress useless phrases and shorten idle discussions6 ,m4 ,payen's last pamphlet was dedicated to a man who deserves equally well of ,montaigne--,m4 ,gustave ,brunet1 of ,bordeaux4 ,he1 speaking of ,m4 ,payen1 in a work in which he pointed out interesting and various corrections of ,montaigne's text1 said3 ,may he soon decide to publish the fruits of his researches3 he will have left nothing for future ,montaignologues ,montaignologues6 ,great ,heaven6 what would ,montaigne say of such a word coined in his honour8 ,you who occupy yourselves so meritoriously with him1 but who have1 ,i think1 no claim to appropriate him to yourselves1 in the name of him whom you love1 and whom we all love by a greater or lesser title1 never1 ,i beg of you1 use such words2 they smack of the brotherhood and the sect1 of pedantry and of the chatter of the schools--things utterly repugnant to ,montaigne4 ,montaigne had a simple1 natural1 affable mind1 and a very happy disposition4 ,sprung from an excellent father1 who1 though of no great education1 entered with real enthusiasm into the movement of the ,renaissance and all the liberal novelties of his time1 the son corrected the excessive enthusiasm1 vivacity1 and tenderness he inherited by a great refinement and justness of reflection2 but he did not abjure the original groundwork4 ,it is scarcely more than thirty years ago that whenever the sixteenth century was mentioned it was spoken of as a barbarous epoch1 ,montaigne only excepted3 therein lay error and ignorance4 ,the sixteenth century was a great century1 fertile1 powerful1 learned1 refined in parts1 although in some aspects it was rough1 violent1 and seemingly coarse4 ,what it particularly lacked was taste1 if by taste is meant the faculty of clear and perfect selection1 the extrication of the elements of the beautiful4 ,but in the succeeding centuries taste quickly became distaste4 ,if1 however1 in literature it was crude1 in the arts properly so-called1 in those of the hand and the chisel1 the sixteenth century1 even in ,france1 is1 in the quality of taste1 far greater than the two succeeding centuries3 it is neither meagre nor massive1 heavy nor distorted4 ,in art its taste is rich and of fine quality1--at once unrestrained and complex1 ancient and modern1 special to itself and original4 ,in the region of morals it is unequal and mixed4 ,it was an age of contrasts1 of contrasts in all their crudity1 an age of philosophy and fanaticism1 of scepticism and strong faith4 ,everything was at strife and in collision2 nothing was blended and united4 ,everything was in ferment2 it was a period of chaos2 every ray of light caused a storm4 ,it was not a gentle age1 or one we can call an age of light1 but an age of struggle and combat4 ,what distinguished ,montaigne and made a phenomenon of him was1 that in such an age he should have possessed moderation1 caution1 and order4 ,born on the last day of ,february1 #aecc1 taught the ancient languages as a game while still a child1 waked even in his cradle by the sound of musical instruments1 he seemed less fitted for a rude and violent epoch than for the commerce and sanctuary of the muses4 ,his rare good sense corrected what was too ideal and poetical in his early education2 but he preserved the happy faculty of saying everything with freshness and wit4 ,married1 when past thirty1 to an estimable woman who was his companion for twenty-eight years1 he seems to have put passion only into friendship4 ,he immortalised his love for ,etienne de la ,boetie1 whom he lost after four years of the sweetest and closest intimacy4 ,for some time counsellor in the ,parliament of ,bordeaux1 ,montaigne1 before he was forty1 retired from public life1 and flung away ambition to live in his tower of ,montaigne1 enjoying his own society and his own intellect1 entirely given up to his own observations and thoughts1 and to the busy idleness of which we know all the sports and fancies4 ,the first edition of the ,essays appeared in #aehj1 consisting of only two books1 and in a form representing only the first rough draft of what we have in the later editions4 ,the same year ,montaigne set out on a voyage to ,switzerland and ,italy4 ,it was during that voyage that the aldermen of ,bordeaux elected him mayor of their town4 ,at first he refused and excused himself1 but warned that it would be well to accept1 and enjoined by the king1 he took the office1 the more beautiful1 he said1 that there was neither renunciation nor gain other than the honour of its performance4 ,he filled the office for four years1 from ,july #aehb to ,july #aehf1 being re-elected after the first two years4 ,thus ,montaigne1 at the age of fifty1 and a little against his will1 re- entered public life when the country was on the eve of civil disturbances which1 quieted and lulled to sleep for a while1 broke out more violently at the cry of the ,league4 ,although1 as a rule1 lessons serve for nothing1 since the art of wisdom and happiness cannot be taught1 let us not deny ourselves the pleasure of listening to ,montaigne2 let us look on his wisdom and happiness2 let him speak of public affairs1 of revolutions and disturbances1 and of his way of conducting himself with regard to them4 ,we do not put forward a model1 but we offer our readers an agreeable recreation4 ,although ,montaigne lived in so agitated and stormy a time1 a period that a man who had lived through the ,terror 7,m4 ,daunou7 called the most tragic century in all history1 he by no means regarded his age as the worst of ages4 ,he was not of those prejudiced and afflicted persons1 who1 measuring everything by their visual horizon1 valuing everything according to their present sensations1 alway declare that the disease they suffer from is worse than any ever before experienced by a human being4 ,he was like ,socrates1 who did not consider himself a citizen of one city but of the world2 with his broad and full imagination he embraced the universality of countries and of ages2 he even judged more equitably the very evils of which he was witness and victim4 ,who is it1 he said1 that1 seeing the bloody havoc of these civil wars of ours1 does not cry out that the machine of the world is near dissolution1 and that the day of judgment is at hand1 without considering that many worse revolutions have been seen1 and that1 in the mean time1 people are being merry in a thousand other parts of the earth for all this8 ,for my part1 considering the license and impunity that always attend such commotions1 ,i admire they are so moderate1 and that there is not more mischief done4 ,to him who feels the hailstones patter about his ears1 the whole hemisphere appears to be in storm and tempest4 ,and raising his thoughts higher and higher1 reducing his own suffering to what it was in the immensity of nature1 seeing there not only himself but whole kingdoms as mere specks in the infinite1 he added in words which foreshadowed ,pascal1 in words whose outline and salient points ,pascal did not disdain to borrow3 ,but whoever shall represent to his fancy1 as in a picture1 that great image of our mother nature1 portrayed in her full majesty and lustre1 whoever in her face shall read so general and so constant a variety1 whoever shall observe himself in that figure1 and not himself but a whole kingdom1 no bigger than the least touch or prick of a pencil in comparison of the whole1 that man alone is able to value things according to their true estimate and grandeur4 ,thus ,montaigne gives us a lesson1 a useless lesson1 but ,i state it all the same1 because among the many unprofitable ones that have been written down1 it is perhaps of greater worth than most4 ,i do not mean to underrate the gravity of the circumstances in which ,france is just now involved1 for ,i believe there is pressing need to bring together all the energy1 prudence1 and courage she possesses in order that the country may come out with honour ,footnote3 ,this essay appeared ,april #bh1 #ahea4 ,however1 let us reflect1 and remember that1 leaving aside the ,empire1 which as regards internal affairs was a period of calm1 and before #ahab of prosperity1 we who utter such loud complaints1 lived in peace from #ahae to #ahcj1 fifteen long years2 that the three days of ,july only inaugurated another order of things that for eighteen years guaranteed peace and in dustrial prosperity2 in all1 thirty-two years of repose4 ,stormy days came2 tempests burst1 and will doubtless burst again4 ,let us learn how to live through them1 but do not let us cry out every day1 as we are disposed to do1 that never under the sun were such storms known as we are enduring4 ,to get away from the present state of feeling1 to restore lucidity and proportion to our judgments1 let us read every evening a page of ,montaigne4 ,a criticism of ,montaigne on the men of his day struck me1 and it bears equally well on those of ours4 ,our philosopher says somewhere that he knows a fair number of men possessing various good qualities--one1 intelligence2 another1 heart2 another1 address1 conscience or knowledge1 or skill in languages1 each has his share3 but of a great man as a whole1 having so many good qualities together1 or one with such a degree of excellence that we ought to admire him1 or compare him with those we honour in the past1 my fortune has never shown me one4 ,he afterwards made an exception in favour of his friend ,etienne de la ,boetie1 but he belonged to the company of great men dead before attaining maturity1 and showing promise without having time to fulfil it4 ,montaigne's criticism called up a smile4 ,he did not see a true and wholly great man in his time1 the age of ,l',hopital1 ,coligny1 and the ,guises4 ,well6 how does ours seem to you8 ,we have as many great men as in ,montaigne's time1 one distinguished for his intellect1 another for his heart1 a third for skill1 some 7a rare thing7 for conscience1 many for knowledge and language4 ,but we too lack the perfect man1 and he is greatly to be desired4 ,one of the most intelligent observers of our day recognised and proclaimed it some years ago3 ,our age1 said ,m4 de ,remusat1 is wanting in great men4 ,footnote3 ,essais de ,philosophie1 vol4 i1 p4 #bb ,how did ,montaigne conduct himself in his duties as first magistrate of a great city8 ,if we take him literally and on a hasty first glance we should believe he discharged them slackly and languidly4 ,did not ,horace1 doing the honours to himself1 say that in war he one day let his shield fall 7relicta non bene parmula78 ,we must not be in too great a hurry to take too literally the men of taste who have a horror of over-estimating themselves4 ,minds of a fine quality are more given to vigilance and to action than they are apt to confess4 ,the man who boasts and makes a great noise1 will1 ,i am almost sure1 be less brave in the combat than ,horace1 and less vigilant at the council board than ,montaigne4 ,on entering office ,montaigne was careful to warn the aldermen of ,bordeaux not to expect to find in him more than there really was2 he presented himself to them without affectation4 ,i represented to them faithfully and conscientiously all that ,i felt myself to be1--a man without memory1 without vigilance1 without experience1 and without energy2 but also1 without hate1 without ambition1 without avarice1 and without violence4 ,he should be sorry1 while taking the affairs of the town in hand1 that his feelings should be so strongly affected as those of his worthy father had been1 who in the end had lost his place and health4 ,the eager and ardent pledge to satisfy an impetuous desire was not his method4 ,his opinion was that you must lend yourself to others1 and only give yourself to yourself4 ,and repeating his thought1 according to his custom in all kinds of metaphors and picturesque forms1 he said again that if he some times allowed himself to be urged to the management of other men's affairs1 he promised to take them in hand1 not into my lungs and liver4 ,we are thus forewarned1 we know what to expect4 ,the mayor and ,montaigne were two distinct persons2 under his role and office he reserved to himself a certain freedom and secret security4 ,he continued to judge things in his own fashion and impartially1 although acting loyally for the cause confided to him4 ,he was far from approving or even excusing all he saw in his party1 and he could judge his adversaries and say of them3 ,he did that thing wickedly1 and this virtuously4 ,i would have1 he added1 matters go well on our side2 but if they do not1 ,i shall not run mad4 ,i am heartily for the right party2 but ,i do not affect to be taken notice of for an especial enemy to others4 ,and he entered into some details and applications which at that time were piquant4 ,let us remark1 however1 in order to explain and justify his somewhat extensive profession of impartiality1 that the chiefs of the party then in evidence1 the three ,henris1 were famous and considerable men on several counts3 ,henri1 ,duke of ,guise1 head of the ,league2 ,henri1 ,king of ,navarre1 leader of the ,opposition2 and the ,king ,henri ,,iii4 in whose name ,montaigne was mayor1 who wavered between the two4 ,when parties have neither chief nor head1 when they are known by the body only1 that is to say1 in their hideous and brutal reality1 it is more difficult and also more hazardous to be just towards them and to assign to each its share of action4 ,the principle which guided him in his administration was to look only at the fact1 at the result1 and to grant nothing to noise and outward show3 ,how much more a good effect makes a noise1 so much ,i abate of the goodness of it4 ,for it is always to be feared that it was more performed for the sake of the noise than upon the account of goodness3 ,being exposed upon the stall1 'tis half sold4 ,that was not ,montaigne's way3 he made no show2 he managed men and affairs as quietly as he could2 he employed in a manner useful to all alike the gifts of sincerity and conciliation2 the personal attraction with which nature endowed him was a quality of the highest value in the management of men4 ,he preferred to warn men of evil rather than to take on himself the honour of repressing it3 ,is there any one who desires to be sick that he may see his physician's practice8 ,and would not that physician deserve to be whipped who should wish the plague amongst us that he might put his art into practice8 ,far from desiring that trouble and disorder in the affairs of the city should rouse and honour his govern ment1 he had ever willingly1 he said1 contributed all he could to their tranquillity and ease4 ,he is not of those whom municipal honours intoxicate and elate1 those dignities of office as he called them1 and of which all the noise goes from one cross-road to another4 ,if he was a man desirous of fame1 he recognised that it was of a kind greater than that4 ,i do not know1 however1 if even in a vaster field he would have changed his method and manner of proceed ing4 ,to do good for the public imperceptibly would always seem to him the ideal of skill and the culminating point of happiness4 ,he who will not thank me1 he said1 for the order and quiet calm that has accompanied my administration1 cannot1 however1 deprive me of the share that belongs to me by the title of my good fortune4 ,and he is inexhaustible in describing in lively and graceful expressions the kinds of effective and imperceptible services he believed he had rendered--services greatly superior to noisy and glorious deeds3 ,actions which come from the workman's hand carelessly and noiselessly have most charm1 that some honest man chooses later and brings from their obscurity to thrust them into the light for their own sake4 ,thus fortune served ,montaigne to perfection1 and even in his administration of affairs1 in difficult conjunctures1 he never had to belie his maxim1 nor to step very far out of the way of life he had planned3 ,for my part ,i commend a gliding1 solitary1 and silent life4 ,he reached the end of his magistracy almost satisfied with himself1 having accomplished what he had promised himself1 and much more than he had promised others4 ,the letter lately discovered by ,m4 ,horace de ,viel-,castel corroborates the chapter in which ,montaigne exhibits and criticises himself in the period of his public life4 ,that letter1 says ,m4 ,payen1 is entirely on affairs4 ,montaigne is mayor2 ,bordeaux1 lately disturbed1 seems threatened by fresh agitations2 the king's lieutenant is away4 ,it is ,wednesday1 ,may #bb1 #aehe2 it is night1 ,montaigne is wakeful1 and writes to the governor of the province4 ,the letter1 which is of too special and local an interest to be inserted here1 may be summed up in these words3--,montaigne regretted the absence of ,marshal de ,matignon1 and feared the consequences of its prolongation2 he was keeping1 and would continue to keep1 him acquainted with all that was going on1 and begged him to return as soon as his circumstances would permit4 ,we are looking after our gates and guards1 and a little more carefully in your absence4 4 4 4 ,if anything important and fresh occurs1 ,i shall send you a messenger immediately1 so that if you hear no news from me1 you may consider that nothing has happened4 ,he begs ,m4 de ,matignon to remember1 however1 that he might not have time to warn him1 entreating you to consider that such movements are usually so sudden1 that if they do occur they will take me by the throat without any warning4 ,besides1 he will do everything to ascertain the march of events beforehand4 ,i will do what ,i can to hear news from all parts1 and to that end shall visit and observe the inclinations of all sorts of men4 ,lastly1 after keeping the marshal informed of everything1 of the least rumours abroad in the city1 he pressed him to return1 assuring him that we spare neither our care1 nor1 if need be1 our lives to preserve everything in obedience to the king4 ,montaigne was never prodigal of protestations and praises1 and what with others was a mere form of speech1 was with him a real undertaking and the truth4 ,things1 however1 became worse and worse3 civil war broke out2 friendly or hostile parties 7the difference was not great7 infested the country4 ,montaigne1 who went to his country house as often as he could1 whenever the duties of his office1 which was drawing near its term1 did not oblige him to be in ,bordeaux1 was exposed to every sort of insult and outrage4 ,i underwent1 he said1 the inconveniences that moderation brings along with it in such a disease4 ,i was pitied on all hands2 to the ,ghibelline ,i was a ,guelph1 and to the ,guelph a ,ghibelline4 ,in the midst of his personal grievances he could disengage and raise his thoughts to reflections on the public misfortunes and on the degradation of men's characters4 ,considering closely the disorder of parties1 and all the abject and wretched things which developed so quickly1 he was ashamed to see leaders of renown stoop and debase themselves by cowardly complacency2 for in those circumstances we know1 like him1 that in the word of command to march1 draw up1 wheel1 and the like1 we obey him indeed2 but all the rest is dissolute and free4 ,it pleases me1 said ,montaigne ironically1 to observe how much pusillanimity and cowardice there is in ambition2 by how abject and servile ways it must arrive at its end4 ,despising ambition as he did1 he was not sorry to see it unmasked by such practices and degraded in his sight4 ,however1 his goodness of heart overcoming his pride and contempt1 he adds sadly1 it displeases me to see good and generous natures1 and that are capable of justice1 every day corrupted in the management and command of this confusion4 4 4 4 ,we had ill-contrived souls enough without spoiling those that were generous and good4 ,he rather sought in that misfortune an opportunity and motive for fortifying and strengthening himself4 ,attacked one by one by many disagreeables and evils1 which he would have endured more cheerfully in a heap--that is to say1 all at once- -pursued by war1 disease1 by all the plagues 7,july #aehe71 in the course things were taking1 he already asked himself to whom he and his could have recourse1 of whom he could ask shelter and subsistence for his old age2 and having looked and searched thoroughly all around1 he found himself actually destitute and ,,ruined4 ,for1 to let a man's self fall plumb down1 and from so great a height1 it ought to be in the arms of a solid1 vigorous1 and fortunate friendship4 ,they are very rare1 if there be any4 ,speaking in such a manner1 we perceive that ,la ,boetie had been some time dead4 ,then he felt that he must after all rely on himself in his distress1 and must gain strength2 now or never was the time to put into practice the lofty lessons he spent his life in collecting from the books of the philosophers4 ,he took heart again1 and attained all the height of his virtue3 ,in an ordinary and quiet time1 a man prepares himself for moderate and common accidents2 but in the confusion wherein we have been for these thirty years1 every ,frenchman1 whether in particular or in general1 sees himself every hour upon the point of the total ruin and overthrow of his fortune4 ,and far from being discouraged and cursing fate for causing him to be born in so stormy an age1 he suddenly congratulated himself3 ,let us thank fortune that has not made us live in an effeminate1 idle and languishing age4 ,since the curiosity of wise men seeks the past for disturbances in states in order to learn the secrets of history1 and1 as we should say1 the whole physiology of the body social1 so does my curiosity1 he declares1 make me in some sort please myself with seeing with my own eyes this notable spectacle of our public death1 its forms and symptoms2 and1 seeing ,i could not hinder it1 am content to be destined to assist in it1 and thereby to instruct myself4 ,i shall not suggest a consolation of that sort to most people2 the greater part of mankind does not possess the heroic and eager curiosity of ,empedocles and the elder ,pliny1 the two intrepid men who went straight to the volcanoes and the disturbances of nature to examine them at close quarters1 at the risk of destruction and death4 ,but to a man of ,montaigne's nature1 the thought of that stoical observation gave him consolation even amid real evils4 ,considering the condition of false peace and doubtful truce1 the regime of dull and profound corruption which had preceded the last disturbances1 he almost congratulated himself on seeing their cessation2 for it was1 he said of the regime of ,henri ,,iii41 an universal juncture of particular members1 rotten to emulation of one another1 and the most of them with inveterate ulcers1 that neither required nor admitted of any cure4 ,this conclusion therefore did really more animate than depress me4 ,note that his health1 usually delicate1 is here raised to the level of his morality1 although what it had suffered through the various disturbances might have been enough to undermine it4 ,he had the satisfaction of feeling that he had some hold against fortune1 and that it would take a greater shock still to crush him4 ,another consideration1 humbler and more humane1 upheld him in his troubles1 the consolation arising from a common misfortune1 a misfortune shared by all1 and the sight of the courage of others4 ,the people1 especially the real people1 they who are victims and not robbers1 the peasants of his district1 moved him by the manner in which they endured the same1 or even worse1 troubles than his4 ,the disease or plague which raged at that time in the country pressed chiefly on the poor2 ,montaigne learned from them resignation and the practice of philosophy4 ,let us look down upon the poor people that we see scattered upon the face of the earth1 prone and intent upon their business1 that neither know ,aristotle nor ,cato1 example nor precept4 ,even from these does nature every day extract effects of constancy and patience1 more pure and manly than those we so inquisitively study in the schools4 ,and he goes on to describe them working to the bitter end1 even in their grief1 even in disease1 until their strength failed them4 ,he that is now digging in my garden has this morning buried his father1 or his son4 4 4 4 ,they never keep their beds but to die4 ,the whole chapter is fine1 pathetic1 to the point1 evincing noble1 stoical elevation of mind1 and also the cheerful and affable disposition which ,montaigne said1 with truth1 was his by inheritance1 and in which he had been nourished4 ,there could be nothing better as regards consolation in public calamities1 except a chapter of some not more human1 but of some truly divine book1 in which the hand of ,god should be everywhere visible1 not perfunctorily1 as with ,montaigne1 but actually and lovingly present4 ,in fact1 the consolation ,montaigne gives himself and others is perhaps as lofty and beautiful as human consolation without prayer can be4 ,he wrote the chapter1 the twelfth of the third book1 in the midst of the evils described1 and before they were ended4 ,he concluded it in his graceful and poetical way with a collection of examples1 a heap of foreign flowers1 to which he furnished only the thread for fastening them together4 ,there is ,montaigne to the life2 no matter how seriously he spoke1 it was always with the utmost charm4 ,to form an opinion on his style you have only to open him indifferently at any page and listen to his talk on any subject2 there is none that he did not enliven and make suggestive4 ,in the chapter ,of ,liars1 for instance1 after enlarging on his lack of memory and giving a list of reasons by which he might console himself1 he suddenly added this fresh and delightful reason1 that1 thanks to his faculty for forgetting1 the places ,i revisit1 and the books ,i read over again1 always smile upon me with a fresh novelty4 ,it is thus that on every subject he touched he was continually new1 and created sources of freshness4 ,montesquieu1 in a memorable exclamation1 said3 ,the four great poets1 ,plato1 ,malebranche1 ,shaftesbury1 ,montaigne6 ,how true it is of ,montaigne6 ,no ,french writer1 including the poets proper1 had so lofty an idea of poetry as he had4 ,from my earliest childhood1 he said1 poetry had power over me to transport and transpierce me4 ,he considered1 and therein shows penetration1 that we have more poets than judges and interpreters of poetry4 ,it is easier to write than to understand4 ,in itself and its pure beauty his poetry defies definition2 whoever desired to recognise it at a glance and discern of what it actually consisted would see no more than the brilliance of a flash of lightning4 ,in the constitution and continuity of his style1 ,montaigne is a writer very rich in animated1 bold similes1 naturally fertile in metaphors that are never detached from the thought1 but that seize it in its very centre1 in its interior1 that join and bind it4 ,in that respect1 fully obeying his own genius1 he has gone beyond and some times exceeded the genius of language4 ,his concise1 vigorous and always forcible style1 by its poignancy1 emphasises and repeats the meaning4 ,it may be said of his style that it is a continual epigram1 or an ever-renewed metaphor1 a style that has only been successfully employed by the ,french once1 by ,montaigne himself4 ,if we wanted to imitate him1 supposing we had the power and were naturally fitted for it--if we desired to write with his severity1 exact proportion1 and diverse continuity of figures and turns--it would be necessary to force our language to be more powerful1 and poetically more complete1 than is usually our custom4 ,style a la ,montaigne1 consistent1 varied in the series and assortment of the metaphors1 exacts the creation of a portion of the tissue itself to hold them4 ,it is absolutely necessary that in places the woof should be enlarged and extended1 in order to weave into it the metaphor2 but in defining him ,i come almost to write like him4 ,the ,french language1 ,french prose1 which in fact always savours more or less of conversation1 does not1 naturally1 possess the resources and the extent of canvas necessary for a continued picture3 by the side of an animated metaphor it will often exhibit a sudden lacuna and some weak places4 ,in filling this by boldness and invention as ,montaigne did1 in creating1 in imagining the expression and locution that is wanting1 our prose should appear equally finished4 ,style a la ,montaigne would1 in many respects1 be openly at war with that of ,voltaire4 ,it could only come into being and flourish in the full freedom of the sixteenth century1 in a frank1 ingenious1 jovial1 keen1 brave1 and refined mind1 of an unique stamp1 that even for that time1 seemed free and somewhat licentious1 and that was inspired and emboldened1 but not intoxicated by the pure and direct spirit of ancient sources4 ,such as he is1 ,montaigne is the ,french ,horace2 he is ,horatian in the groundwork1 often in the form and expression1 although in that he sometimes approaches ,seneca4 ,his book is a treasure-house of moral observations and of experience2 at whatever page it is opened1 and in what ever condition of mind1 some wise thought expressed in a striking and enduring fashion is certain to be found4 ,it will at once detach itself and engrave itself on the mind1 a beautiful meaning in full and forcible words1 in one vigorous line1 familiar or great4 ,the whole of his book1 said ,etienne ,pasquier1 is a real seminary of beautiful and remarkable sentences1 and they come in so much the better that they run and hasten on without thrusting them selves into notice4 ,there is something for every age1 for every hour of life3 you cannot read in it for any time without having the mind filled and lined as it were1 or1 to put it better1 fully armed and clothed4 ,we have just seen how much useful counsel and actual consolation it contains for an honourable man1 born for private life1 and fallen on times of disturbance and revolution4 ,to this ,i shall add the counsel he gave those who1 like myself and many men of my acquaintance1 suffer from political disturbances without in any way provoking them1 or believing ourselves capable of averting them4 ,montaigne1 as ,horace would have done1 counsels them1 while apprehending everything from afar off1 not to be too much preoccupied with such matters in advance2 to take advantage to the end of pleasant moments and bright intervals4 ,stroke on stroke come his piquant and wise similes1 and he concludes1 to my thinking1 with the most delightful one of all1 and one1 besides1 entirely appropriate and seasonable3 it is folly and fret1 he said1 to take out your furred gown at ,saint ,john because you will want it at ,christmas4 ,,what ,,is ,a ,,classic8 ,a delicate question1 to which somewhat diverse solutions might be given according to times and seasons4 ,an intelligent man suggests it to me1 and ,i intend to try1 if not to solve it1 at least to examine and discuss it face to face with my readers1 were it only to persuade them to answer it for themselves1 and1 if ,i can1 to make their opinion and mine on the point clear4 ,and why1 in criticism1 should we not1 from time to time1 venture to treat some of those subjects which are not personal1 in which we no longer speak of some one but of some thing8 ,our neighbours1 the ,english1 have well succeeded in making of it a special division of literature under the modest title of ,essays4 ,it is true that in writing of such subjects1 always slightly abstract and moral1 it is advisable to speak of them in a season of quiet1 to make sure of our own attention and of that of others1 to seize one of those moments of calm moderation and leisure seldom granted our amiable ,france2 even when she is desirous of being wise and is not making revolutions1 her brilliant genius can scarcely tolerate them4 ,a classic1 according to the usual definition1 is an old author canonised by admiration1 and an authority in his particular style4 ,the word classic was first used in this sense by the ,romans4 ,with them not all the citizens of the different classes were properly called classici1 but only those of the chief class1 those who possessed an income of a certain fixed sum4 ,those who possessed a smaller income were described by the term infra classem1 below the preeminent class4 ,the word classicus was used in a figurative sense by ,aulus ,gellius1 and applied to writers3 a writer of worth and distinction1 classicus assiduusque scriptor1 a writer who is of account1 has real property1 and is not lost in the proletariate crowd4 ,such an expression implies an age sufficiently advanced to have already made some sort of valuation and classification of literature4 ,at first the only true classics for the moderns were the ancients4 ,the ,greeks1 by peculiar good fortune and natural enlightenment of mind1 had no classics but themselves4 ,they were at first the only classical authors for the ,romans1 who strove and contrived to imitate them4 ,after the great periods of ,roman literature1 after ,cicero and ,virgil1 the ,romans in their turn had their classics1 who became almost exclusively the classical authors of the centuries which followed4 ,the middle ages1 which were less ignorant of ,latin antiquity than is believed1 but which lacked proportion and taste1 confused the ranks and orders4 ,ovid was placed above ,homer1 and ,boetius seemed a classic equal to ,plato4 ,the revival of learning in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries helped to bring this long chaos to order1 and then only was admiration rightly proportioned4 ,thenceforth the true classical authors of ,greek and ,latin antiquity stood out in a luminous background1 and were harmoniously grouped on their two heights4 ,meanwhile modern literatures were born1 and some of the more precocious1 like the ,italian1 already possessed the style of antiquity4 ,dante appeared1 and1 from the very first1 posterity greeted him as a classic4 ,italian poetry has since shrunk into far narrower bounds2 but1 whenever it desired to do so1 it always found again and preserved the impulse and echo of its lofty origin4 ,it is no indifferent matter for a poetry to derive its point of departure and classical source in high places2 for example1 to spring from ,dante rather than to issue laboriously from ,malherbe4 ,modern ,italy had her classical authors1 and ,spain had every right to believe that she also had hers at a time when ,france was yet seeking hers4 ,a few talented writers en dowed with originality and exceptional animation1 a few brilliant efforts1 isolated1 without following1 interrupted and recommenced1 did not suffice to endow a nation with a solid and imposing basis of literary wealth4 ,the idea of a classic implies something that has continuance and consistence1 and which produces unity and tradition fashions and transmits itself1 and endures4 ,it was only after the glorious years of ,louis ,,xiv4 that the nation felt with tremor and pride that such good fortune had happened to her4 ,every voice in formed ,louis ,,xiv4 of it with flattery1 exaggeration1 and emphasis1 yet with a certain sentiment of truth4 ,then arose a singular and striking contradiction3 those men of whom ,perrauit was the chief1 the men who were most smitten with the marvels of the age of ,louis the ,great1 who even went the length of sacrificing the ancients to the moderns1 aimed at exalting and canonising even those whom they regarded as inveterate opponents and adversaries4 ,boileau avenged and angrily upheld the ancients against ,perrault1 who extolled the moderns--that is to say1 ,corneille1 ,moliere1 ,pascal1 and the eminent men of his age1 ,boileau1 one of the first1 included4 ,kindly ,la ,fontaine1 taking part in the dispute in behalf of the learned ,huet1 did not perceive that1 in spite of his defects1 he was in his turn on the point of being held as a classic himself4 ,example is the best definition4 ,from the time ,france possessed her age of ,louis ,,xiv4 and could contemplate it at a little distance1 she knew1 better than by any arguments1 what to be classical meant4 ,the eighteenth century1 even in its medley of things1 strengthened this idea through some fine works1 due to its four great men4 ,read ,voltaire's ,age of ,louis ,,xiv41 ,montesquieu's ,greatness and ,fall of the ,romans1 ,buffon's ,epochs of ,nature1 the beautiful pages of reverie and natural description of ,rousseau's ,savoyard ,vicar1 and say if the eighteenth century1 in these memorable works1 did not understand how to reconcile tradition with freedom of development and independence4 ,but at the be ginning of the present century and under the ,empire1 in sight of the first attempts of a decidedly new and somewhat adventurous literature1 the idea of a classic in a few resist ing minds1 more sorrowful than severe1 was strangely nar rowed and contracted4 ,the first ,dictionary of the ,academy 7#afid7 merely defined a classical author as a much-approved ancient writer1 who is an authority as regards the subject he treats4 ,the ,dictionary of the ,academy of #ahce narrows that definition still more1 and gives precision and even limit to its rather vague form4 ,it describes classical authors as those who have become models in any language whatever1 and in all the articles which follow1 the expressions1 models1 fixed rules for composition and style1 strict rules of art to which men must conform1 continually recur4 ,that definition of classic was evidently made by the respectable ,academicians1 our predecessors1 in face and sight of what was then called romantic--that is to say1 in sight of the enemy4 ,it seems to me time to renounce those timid and restrictive definitions and to free our mind of them4 ,a true classic1 as ,i should like to hear it defined1 is an author who has enriched the human mind1 increased its treasure1 and caused it to advance a step2 who has discovered some moral and not equivocal truth1 or revealed some eternal passion in that heart where all seemed known and discovered2 who has expressed his thought1 observation1 or invention1 in no matter what form1 only provided it be broad and great1 refined and sensible1 sane and beautiful in itself2 who has spoken to all in his own peculiar style1 a style which is found to be also that of the whole world1 a style new without neologism1 new and old1 easily contemporary with all time4 ,such a classic may for a moment have been revolutionary2 it may at least have seemed so1 but it is not2 it only lashed and subverted whatever prevented the restoration of the balance of order and beauty4 ,if it is desired1 names may be applied to this definition which ,i wish to make purposely majestic and fluctuating1 or in a word1 all- embracing4 ,i should first put there ,corneille of the ,polyeucte1 ,cinna1 and ,horaces4 ,i should put ,moliere there1 the fullest and most complete poetic genius we have ever had in ,france4 ,goethe1 the king of critics1 said3-- ,moliere is so great that he astonishes us afresh every time we read him4 ,he is a man apart2 his plays border on the tragic1 and no one has the courage to try and imitate him4 ,his ,avare1 where vice destroys all affection between father and son1 is one of the most sublime works1 and dramatic in the highest degree4 ,in a drama every action ought to be important in itself1 and to lead to an action greater still4 ,in this respect ,tartuffe is a model4 ,what a piece of exposition the first scene is6 ,from the beginning everything has an important meaning1 and causes something much more important to be foreseen4 ,the exposition in a certain play of ,lessing that might be mentioned is very fine1 but the world only sees that of ,tartuffe once4 ,it is the finest of the kind we possess4 ,every year ,i read a play of ,moliere1 just as from time to time ,i contemplate some engraving after the great ,italian masters4 ,i do not conceal from myself that the definition of the classic ,i have just given somewhat exceeds the notion usually ascribed to the term4 ,it should1 above all1 include conditions of uniformity1 wisdom1 moderation1 and reason1 which dominate and contain all the others4 ,having to praise ,m4 ,royer-,collard1 ,m4 de ,remusat said--,if he derives purity of taste1 propriety of terms1 variety of expression1 attentive care in suiting the diction to the thought1 from our classics1 he owes to himself alone the distinctive character he gives it all4 ,it is here evident that the part allotted to classical qualities seems mostly to depend on harmony and nuances of expression1 on graceful and temperate style3 such is also the most general opinion4 ,in this sense the pre-eminent classics would be writers of a middling order1 exact1 sensible1 elegant1 always clear1 yet of noble feeling and airily veiled strength4 ,marie-,joseph ,chenier has described the poetics of those temperate and accomplished writers in lines where he shows himself their happy disciple3-- ,it is good sense1 reason which does all1--virtue1 genius1 soul1 talent1 and taste4--,what is virtue8 reason put in practice2--talent8 reason expressed with brilliance2--soul8 reason delicately put forth2--and genius is sublime reason4 ,while writing those lines he was evidently thinking of ,pope1 ,boileau1 and ,horace1 the master of them all4 ,the peculiar characteristic of the theory which subordinated imagination and feeling itself to reason1 of which ,scaliger perhaps gave the first sign among the moderns1 is1 properly speaking1 the ,latin theory1 and for a long time it was also by preference the ,french theory4 ,if it is used appositely1 if the term reason is not abused1 that theory possesses some truth2 but it is evident that it is abused1 and that if1 for instance1 reason can be confounded with poetic genius and make one with it in a moral epistle1 it cannot be the same thing as the genius1 so varied and so diversely creative in its expression of the passions1 of the drama or the epic4 ,where will you find reason in the fourth book of the ,a,eneid and the transports of ,dido8 ,be that as it may1 the spirit which prompted the theory1 caused writers who ruled their inspiration1 rather than those who abandoned themselves to it1 to be placed in the first rank of classics2 to put ,virgil there more surely than ,homer1 ,racine in preference to ,corneille4 ,the masterpiece to which the theory likes to point1 which in fact brings together all conditions of prudence1 strength1 tempered boldness1 moral elevation1 and grandeur1 is ,athalie4 ,turenne in his two last campaigns and ,racine in ,athalie are the great examples of what wise and prudent men are capable of when they reach the maturity of their genius and attain their supremest boldness4 ,buffon1 in his ,discourse on ,style1 insisting on the unity of design1 arrangement1 and execution1 which are the stamps of true classical works1 said3--,every subject is one1 and however vast it is1 it can be comprised in a single treatise4 ,interruptions1 pauses1 sub- divisions should only be used when many subjects are treated1 when1 having to speak of great1 intricate1 and dissimilar things1 the march of genius is interrupted by the multiplicity of obstacles1 and contracted by the necessity of circumstances3 otherwise1 far from making a work more solid1 a great number of divisions destroys the unity of its parts2 the book appears clearer to the view1 but the author's design remains obscure4 ,and he continues his criticism1 having in view ,montesquieu's ,spirit of ,laws1 an excellent book at bottom1 but sub-divided3 the famous author1 worn out before the end1 was unable to infuse inspiration into all his ideas1 and to arrange all his matter4 ,however1 ,i can scarcely believe that ,buffon was not also thinking1 by way of contrast1 of ,bossuet's ,discourse on ,universal ,history1 a subject vast indeed1 and yet of such an unity that the great orator was able to comprise it in a single treatise4 ,when we open the first edition1 that of #afha1 before the division into chapters1 which was introduced later1 passed from the margin into the text1 very thing is developed in a single series1 almost in one breath4 ,it might be said that the orator has here acted like the nature of which ,buffon speaks1 that he has worked on an eternal plan from which he has nowhere departed1 so deeply does he seem to have entered into the familiar counsels and designs of providence4 ,are ,athalie and the ,discourse on ,universal ,history the greatest masterpieces that the strict classical theory can present to its friends as well as to its enemies8 ,in spite of the admirable simplicity and dignity in the achievement of such unique productions1 we should like1 nevertheless1 in the interests of art1 to expand that theory a little1 and to show that it is possible to enlarge it without relaxing the tension4 ,goethe1 whom ,i like to quote on such a subject1 said3-- ,i call the classical healthy1 and the romantic sickly4 ,in my opinion the ,nibelungen song is as much a classic as ,homer4 ,both are healthy and vigorous4 ,the works of the day are romantic1 not because they are new1 but because they are weak1 ailing1 or sickly4 ,ancient works are classical not because they are old1 but because they are powerful1 fresh1 and healthy4 ,if we regarded romantic and classical from those two points of view we should soon all agree4 ,indeed1 before determining and fixing the opinions on that matter1 ,i should like every unbiassed mind to take a voyage round the world and devote itself to a survey of different literatures in their primitive vigour and infinite variety4 ,what would be seen8 ,chief of all a ,homer1 the father of the classical world1 less a single distinct individual than the vast living expression of a whole epoch and a semi-barbarous civilisation4 ,in order to make him a true classic1 it was necessary to attribute to him later a design1 a plan1 literary invention1 qualities of atticism and urbanity of which he had certainly never dreamed in the luxuriant development of his natural inspirations4 ,and who appear by his side8 ,august1 venerable ancients1 the ,a,eschyluses and the ,sophocles1 mutilated1 it is true1 and only there to present us with a debris of themselves1 the survivors of many others as worthy1 doubtless1 as they to survive1 but who have succumbed to the injuries of time4 ,this thought alone would teach a man of impartial mind not to look upon the whole of even classical literatures with a too narrow and restricted view2 he would learn that the exact and well-proportioned order which has since so largely prevailed in our admiration of the past was only the outcome of artificial circumstances4 ,and in reaching the modern world1 how would it be8 ,the greatest names to be seen at the beginning of literatures are those which disturb and run counter to certain fixed ideas of what is beautiful and appropriate in poetry4 ,for example1 is ,shakespeare a classic8 ,yes1 now1 for ,england and the world2 but in the time of ,pope he was not considered so4 ,pope and his friends were the only pre-eminent classics2 directly after their death they seemed so for ever4 ,at the present time they are still classics1 as they deserve to be1 but they are only of the second order1 and are for ever subordinated and relegated to their rightful place by him who has again come to his own on the height of the horizon4 ,it is not1 however1 for me to speak ill of ,pope or his great disciples1 above all1 when they possess pathos and naturalness like ,goldsmith3 after the greatest they are perhaps the most agreeable writers and the poets best fitted to add charm to life4 ,once when ,lord ,bolingbroke was writing to ,swift1 ,pope added a postscript1 in which he said--,i think some advantage would result to our age1 if we three spent three years together4 ,men who1 without boasting1 have the right to say such things must never be spoken of lightly3 the fortunate ages1 when men of talent could propose such things1 then no chimera1 are rather to be envied4 ,the ages called by the name of ,louis ,,xiv4 or of ,queen ,anne are1 in the dispassionate sense of the word1 the only true classical ages1 those which offer protection and a favourable climate to real talent4 ,we know only to well how in our untrammelled times1 through the instability and storminess of the age1 talents are lost and dissipated4 ,nevertheless1 let us acknowledge our age's part and superiority in greatness4 ,true and sovereign genius triumphs over the very difficulties that cause others to fail3 ,dante1 ,shakespeare1 and ,milton were able to attain their height and produce their imperishable works in spite of obstacles1 hardships and tempests4 ,byron's opinion of ,pope has been much discussed1 and the explanation of it sought in the kind of contradiction by which the singer of ,don ,juan and ,childe ,harold extolled the purely classical school and pronounced it the only good one1 while himself acting so differently4 ,goethe spoke the truth on that point when he remarked that ,byron1 great by the flow and source of poetry1 feared that ,shakespeare was more powerful than himself in the creation and realisation of his characters4 ,he would have liked to deny it2 the elevation so free from egoism irritated him2 he felt when near it that he could not display himself at ease4 ,he never denied ,pope1 because he did not fear him2 he knew that ,pope was only a low wall by his side4 ,if1 as ,byron desired1 ,pope's school had kept the supremacy and a sort of honorary empire in the past1 ,byron would have been the first and only poet in his particular style2 the height of ,pope's wall shuts out ,shakespeare's great figure from sight1 whereas when ,shakespeare reigns and rules in all his greatness1 ,byron is only second4 ,in ,france there was no great classic before the age of ,louis ,,xiv42 the ,dantes and ,shakespeares1 the early authorities to whom1 in times of emancipation1 men sooner or later return1 were wanting4 ,there were mere sketches of great poets1 like ,mathurin ,regnier1 like ,rabelais1 without any ideal1 without the depth of emotion and the seriousness which canonises4 ,montaigne was a kind of premature classic1 of the family of ,horace1 but for want of worthy surroundings1 like a spoiled child1 he gave himself up to the unbridled fancies of his style and humour4 ,hence it happened that ,france1 less than any other nation1 found in her old authors a right to demand vehemently at a certain time literary liberty and freedom1 and that it was more difficult for her1 in enfranchising herself1 to remain classical4 ,however1 with ,moliere and ,la ,fontaine among her classics of the great period1 nothing could justly be refused to those who possessed courage and ability4 ,the important point now seems to me to be to uphold1 while extending1 the idea and belief4 ,there is no receipt for making classics2 this point should be clearly recognised4 ,to believe that an author will become a classic by imitating certain qualities of purity1 moderation1 accuracy1 and elegance1 independently of the style and inspiration1 is to believe that after ,racine the father there is a place for ,racine the son2 dull and estimable role1 the worst in poetry4 ,further1 it is hazardous to take too quickly and without opposition the place of a classic in the sight of one's contemporaries2 in that case there is a good chance of not retaining the position with posterity4 ,fontanes in his day was regarded by his friends as a pure classic2 see how at twenty-five years' distance his star has set4 ,how many of these precocious classics are there who do not endure1 and who are so only for a while6 ,we turn round one morning and are surprised not to find them standing behind us4 ,madame de ,sevigne would wittily say they possessed but an evanescent colour4 ,with regard to classics1 the least expected prove the best and greatest3 seek them rather in the vigorous genius born immortal and flourishing for ever4 ,apparently the least classical of the four great poets of the age of ,louis ,,xiv4 was ,moliere2 he was then applauded far more than he was esteemed2 men took delight in him without understanding his worth4 ,after him1 ,la ,fontaine seemed the least classical3 observe after two centuries what is the result for both4 ,far above ,boileau1 even above ,racine1 are they not now unanimously considered to possess in the highest degree the characteristics of an all-embracing morality8 ,meanwhile there is no question of sacrificing or depreciating anything4 ,i believe the temple of taste is to be rebuilt2 but its reconstruction is merely a matter of enlargement1 so that it may become the home of all noble human beings1 of all who have permanently increased the sum of the mind's delights and possessions4 ,as for me1 who cannot1 obviously1 in any degree pretend to be the architect or designer of such a temple1 ,i shall confine myself to expressing a few earnest wishes1 to submit1 as it were1 my designs for the edifice4 ,above all ,i should desire not to exclude any one among the worthy1 each should be in his place there1 from ,shakespeare1 the freest of creative geniuses1 and the greatest of classics without knowing it1 to ,andrieux1 the last of classics in little4 ,there is more than one chamber in the mansions of my ,father2 that should be as true of the kingdom of the beautiful here below1 as of the kingdom of ,heaven4 ,homer1 as always and everywhere1 should be first1 likest a god2 but behind him1 like the procession of the three wise kings of the ,east1 would be seen the three great poets1 the three ,homers1 so long ignored by us1 who wrote epics for the use of the old peoples of ,asia1 the poets ,valmiki1 ,vyasa of the ,hindoos1 and ,firdousi of the ,persians3 in the domain of taste it is well to know that such men exist1 and not to divide the human race4 ,our homage paid to what is recognized as soon as perceived1 we must not stray further2 the eye should delight in a thousand pleasing or majestic spectacles1 should rejoice in a thousand varied and surprising combinations1 whose apparent confusion would never be without concord and harmony4 ,the oldest of the wise men and poets1 those who put human morality into maxims1 and those who in simple fashion sung it1 would converse together in rare and gentle speech1 and would not be surprised at understanding each other's meaning at the very first word4 ,solon1 ,hesiod1 ,theognis1 ,job1 ,solomon1 and why not ,confucius1 would welcome the cleverest moderns1 ,la ,rochefoucauld and ,la ,bruyere1 who1 when listening to them1 would say they knew all that we know1 and in repeating life's experiences1 we have discovered nothing4 ,on the hill1 most easily discernible1 and of most accessible ascent1 ,virgil1 surrounded by ,menander1 ,tibullus1 ,terence1 ,fenelon1 would occupy himself in discoursing with them with great charm and divine enchantment3 his gentle countenance would shine with an inner light1 and be tinged with modesty2 as on the day when entering the theatre at ,rome1 just as they finished reciting his verses1 he saw the people rise with an unanimous movement and pay to him the same homage as to ,augustus4 ,not far from him1 regretting the separation from so dear a friend1 ,horace1 in his turn1 would preside 7as far as so accomplished and wise a poet could preside7 over the group of poets of social life who could talk although they sang1--,pope1 ,boileau1 the one become less irritable1 the other less fault-finding4 ,montaigne1 a true poet1 would be among them1 and would give the finishing touch that should deprive that delightful corner of the air of a literary school4 ,there would ,la ,fontaine forget himself1 and becoming less volatile would wander no more4 ,voltaire would be attracted by it1 but while finding pleasure in it would not have patience to remain4 ,a little lower down1 on the same hill as ,virgil1 ,xenophon1 with simple bearing1 looking in no way like a general1 but rather resembling a priest of the ,muses1 would be seen gathering round him the ,attics of every tongue and of every nation1 the ,addisons1 ,pellissons1 ,vauvenargues--all who feel the value of an easy persuasiveness1 an exquisite simplicity1 and a gentle negligence mingled with ornament4 ,in the centre of the place1 in the portico of the principal temple 7for there would be several in the enclosure71 three great men would like to meet often1 and when they were together1 no fourth1 however great1 would dream of joining their discourse or their silence4 ,in them would be seen beauty1 proportion in greatness1 and that perfect harmony which appears but once in the full youth of the world4 ,their three names have become the ideal of art--,plato1 ,sophocles1 and ,demosthenes4 ,those demi-gods honoured1 we see a numerous and familiar company of choice spirits who follow1 the ,cervantes and ,molieres1 practical painters of life1 indulgent friends who are still the first of benefactors1 who laughingly embrace all mankind1 turn man's experience to gaiety1 and know the powerful workings of a sensible1 hearty1 and legitimate joy4 ,i do not wish to make this description1 which if complete would fill a volume1 any longer4 ,in the middle ages1 believe me1 ,dante would occupy the sacred heights3 at the feet of the singer of ,paradise all ,italy would be spread out like a garden2 ,boccaccio and ,ariosto would there disport themselves1 and ,tasso would find again the orange groves of ,sorrento4 ,usually a corner would be reserved for each of the various nations1 but the authors would take delight in leaving it1 and in their travels would recognise1 where we should least expect it1 brothers or masters4 ,lucretius1 for example1 would enjoy discussing the origin of the world and the reducing of chaos to order with ,milton4 ,but both arguing from their own point of view1 they would only agree as regards divine pictures of poetry and nature4 ,such are our classics2 each individual imagination may finish the sketch and choose the group preferred4 ,for it is necessary to make a choice1 and the first condition of taste1 after obtaining knowledge of all1 lies not in continual travel1 but in rest and cessation from wandering4 ,nothing blunts and destroys taste so much as endless journeyings2 the poetic spirit is not the ,wandering ,jew4 ,however1 when ,i speak of resting and making choice1 my meaning is not that we are to imitate those who charm us most among our masters in the past4 ,let us be content to know them1 to penetrate them1 to admire them2 but let us1 the late-comers1 endeavour to be ourselves4 ,let us have the sincerity and naturalness of our own thoughts1 of our own feelings2 so much is always possible4 ,to that let us add what is more difficult1 elevation1 an aim1 if possible1 towards an exalted goal2 and while speaking our own language1 and submitting to the conditions of the times in which we live1 whence we derive our strength and our defects1 let us ask from time to time1 our brows lifted towards the heights and our eyes fixed on the group of honoured mortals3 what would that say of us8 ,but why speak always of authors and writings8 ,maybe an age is coming when there will be no more writing4 ,happy those who read and read again1 those who in their reading can follow their unrestrained inclination6 ,there comes a time in life when1 all our journeys over1 our experiences ended1 there is no enjoyment more delightful than to study and thoroughly examine the things we know1 to take pleasure in what we feel1 and in seeing and seeing again the people we love3 the pure joys of our maturity4 ,then it is that the word classic takes its true meaning1 and is defined for every man of taste by an irresistible choice4 ,then taste is formed1 it is shaped and definite2 then good sense1 if we are to possess it at all1 is perfected in us4 ,we have neither more time for experiments1 nor a desire to go forth in search of pastures newf ,we cling to our friends1 to those proved by long intercourse4 ,old wine1 old books1 old friends4 ,we say to ourselves with ,voltaire in these delightful lines3--,let us enjoy1 let us write1 let us live1 my dear ,horace6444,i have lived longer than you3 my verse will not last so long4 ,but on the brink of the tomb ,i shall make it my chief care--to follow the lessons of your philosophy--to despise death in enjoying life--to read your writings full of charm and good sense--as we drink an old wine which revives our senses4 ,in fact1 be it ,horace or another who is the author preferred1 who reflects our thoughts in all the wealth of their maturity1 of some one of those excellent and antique minds shall we request an interview at every moment2 of some one of them shall we ask a friendship which never deceives1 which could not fail us2 to some one of them shall we appeal for that sensation of serenity and amenity 7we have often need of it7 which reconciles us with mankind and with ourselves4 ,,the ,,poetry ,,of ,,the ,,celtic ,,races ,,by ,,ernest ,,renan ,,translated ,,by ,w4 ,g4 ,,hutchison ,,introductory ,,note ,ernest ,renan was born in #ahbc1 at ,treguier in ,brittany4 ,he was educated for the priesthood1 but never took orders1 turning at first to teaching4 ,he continued his studies in religion and philology1 and1 after traveling in ,syria on a government commission1 he returned to ,paris and became professor of ,hebrew in the ,college de ,france1 from which he was suspended for a time on account of protests against his heretical teachings4 ,he died in #ahib4 ,renan's activity divides itself into two parts4 ,the first culminated in his two great works on the ,origins of ,christianity and on the ,history of ,israel4 ,as to the scientific value of these books there is difference of opinion1 as was to be expected in a treatment of such subjects to the exclusion of the miraculous4 ,but the delicacy and vividness of his portraits of the great personalities of ,hebrew history1 and the acuteness of his analysis of national psychology1 are not to be denied4 ,the other part of his work is more miscellaneous1 but most of it is in some sense philosophical or autobiographical4 ,believing profoundly in scientific method1 ,renan was unable to find in science a basis for either ethics or metaphysics1 and ended in a skepticism often ironical1 yet not untinged with mysticism4 ,he was an amazing writer1 says ,m4 ,faguet1 and disconcerted criticism by the impossibility of explaining his methods of procedure2 he was luminous1 supple1 naturally pliant and yielding2 beneath his apparently effeminate grace an extraordinary strength of character would suddenly make itself felt2 he had1 more than any nineteenth-century writer1 the quality of charm2 he exercised a caressing innuence which enveloped1 and finally conquered1 the reader4 ,in no kind of writing was ,renan's command of style more notable than in the description of scenery2 and in his pictures of his native ,brittany in the essay on ,the ,poetry of the ,celtic ,races1 as well as in his analysis of national qualities1 two of his most characteristic powers are admirably displayed4 ,,the ,,poetry ,,of ,,the ,,celtic ,,races ,every one who travels through the ,armorican peninsula experiences a change of the most abrupt description1 as soon as he leaves behind the district most closely bordering upon the continent1 in which the cheerful but commonplace type of face of ,normandy and ,maine is continually in evidence1 and passes into the true ,brittany1 that which merits its name by language and race4 ,a cold wind arises full of a vague sadness1 and carries the soul to other thoughts2 the tree-tops are bare and twisted2 the heath with its monotony of tint stretches away into the distance2 at every step the granite protrudes from a soil too scanty to cover it2 a sea that is almost always sombre girdles the horizon with eternal moaning4 ,the same contrast is manifest in the people3 to ,norman vulgarity1 to a plump and prosperous population1 happy to live1 full of its own interests1 egoistical as are all these who make a habit of enjoyment1 succeeds a timid and reserved race living altogether within itself1 heavy in appearance but capable of profound feeling1 and of an adorable delicacy in its religious instincts4 ,a like change is apparent1 ,i am told1 in passing from ,england into ,wales1 from the ,lowlands of ,scotland1 ,english by language and manners1 into the ,gaelic ,highlands2 and too1 though with a perceptible difference1 when one buries oneself in the districts of ,ireland where the race has remained pure from all admixture of alien blood4 ,it seems like entering on the subterranean strata of another world1 and one experiences in some measure the impression given us by ,dante1 when he leads us from one circle of his ,inferno to another4 ,sufficient attention is not given to the peculiarity of this fact of an ancient race living1 until our days and almost under our eyes1 its own life in some obscure islands and peninsulas in the ,west1 more and more affected1 it is true1 by external influences1 but still faithful to its own tongue1 to its own memories1 to its own customs1 and to its own genius4 ,especially is it forgotten that this little people1 now concentrated on the very confines of the world1 in the midst of rocks and mountains whence its enemies have been powerless to force it1 is in possession of a literature which1 in the ,middle ,ages1 exercised an immense influence1 changed the current of ,european civilisation1 and imposed its poetical motives on nearly the whole of ,christendom4 ,yet it is only necessary to open the authentic monuments of the ,gaelic genius to be convinced that the race which created them has had its own original manner of feeling and thinking1 that nowhere has the eternal illusion clad itself in more seductive hues1 and that in the great chorus of humanity no race equals this for penetrative notes that go to the very heart4 ,alas6 it too is doomed to disappear1 this emerald set in the ,western seas4 ,arthur will return no more from his isle of faery1 and ,st4 ,patrick was right when he said to ,ossian1 ,the heroes that thou weepest are dead2 can they be born again8 ,it is high time to note1 before they shall have passed away1 the divine tones thus expiring on the horizon before the growing tumult of uniform civilisation4 ,were criticism to set itself the task of calling back these distant echoes1 and of giving a voice to races that are no more1 would not that suffice to absolve it from the reproach1 unreasonably and too frequently brought against it1 of being only negative8 ,good works now exist which facilitate the task of him who undertakes the study of these interesting literatures4 ,wales1 above all1 is distinguished by scientific and literary activity1 not always accompanied1 it is true1 by a very rigorous critical spirit1 but deserving the highest praise4 ,there1 researches which would bring honour to the most active centres of learning in ,europe are the work of enthusiastic amateurs4 ,a peasant called ,owen ,jones published in #ahja-g1 under the name of the ,myvyrian ,archaiology of ,wales1 the precious collection which is to this day the arsenal of ,cymric antiquities4 ,a number of erudite and zealous workers1 ,aneurin ,owen1 ,thomas ,price of ,crickhowell1 ,william ,rees1 and ,john ,jones1 following in the footsteps of the ,myvyrian peasant1 set themselves to finish his work1 and to profit from the treasures which he had collected4 ,a woman of distinction1 ,lady ,charlotte ,guest1 charged herself with the task of acquainting ,europe with the collection of the ,mabinogion1 ,footnote3 ,the ,mabinogion1 from the ,llyfr ,coch ,o ,hergest and other ancient ,welsh ,manuscripts1 with an ,english ,translation and ,notes4 ,by ,lady ,charlotte ,guest4 ,london and ,llandovery1 #ahcg-di4 ,the word ,mabinogi 7in the plural ,mabinogion7 designates a form of romantic narrative peculiar to ,wales4 ,the origin and primitive meaning of this word are very uncertain1 and ,lady ,guest's right to apply it to the whole of the narratives which she has published is open to doubt4 the pearl of ,gaelic literature1 the completest expression of the ,cymric genius4 ,this magnificent work1 executed in twelve years with the luxury that the wealthy ,english amateur knows how to use in his publications1 will one day attest how full of life the consciousness of the ,celtic races remained in the present century4 ,only indeed the sincerest patriotism could inspire a woman to undertake and achieve so vast a literary monument4 ,scotland and ,ireland have in like measure been enriched by a host of studies of their ancient history4 ,lastly1 our own ,brittany1 though all too rarely studied with the philological and critical rigour now exacted in works of erudition1 has furnished ,celtic antiquities with her share of worthy research4 ,does it not suffice to cite ,m4 de la ,villemarque1 whose name will be henceforth associated among us with these studies1 and whose services are so incontestable1 that criticism need have no fear of depreciating him in the eyes of a public which has accepted him with so much warmth and sympathy8 ,i4 ,if the excellence of races is to be appreciated by the purity of their blood and the inviolability of their national character1 it must needs be admitted that none can vie in nobility with the still surviving remains of the ,celtic race4 ,footnote3 ,to avoid all misunderstanding1 ,i ought to point out that by the word ,celtic ,i designate here1 not the whole of the great race which1 at a remote epoch1 formed the population of nearly the whole of ,western ,europe1 but simply the four groups which1 in our days1 still merit this name1 as opposed to the ,teutons and to the ,neo-,latin peoples4 ,these four groups are3 7i7 ,the inhabitants of ,wales or ,cambria1 and the peninsula of ,cornwall1 bearing even now the ancient name of ,cymry2 7#b7 the ,bretons bretonnants1 or dwellers in ,french ,brittany speaking ,bas-,breton1 who represent an emigration of the ,cymry from ,wales2 7#c7 the ,gaels of the ,north of ,scotland speaking ,gaelic2 7#d7 the ,irish1 although a very profound line of demarcation separates ,ireland from the rest of the ,celtic family4 ,it is also necessary to point out that ,renan in this essay applies the name ,breton both to the ,bretons proper1 i4 e4 the inhabitants of ,brittany1 and to the ,british members of the ,celtic race4--,translator's ,note4 ,never has a human family lived more apart from the world1 and been purer from all alien admixture4 ,confined by conquest within forgotten islands and peninsulas1 it has reared an impassable barrier against external influences2 it has drawn all from itself2 it has lived solely on its own capital4 ,from this ersues that powerful individuality1 that hatred of the foreigner1 which even in our own days has formed the essential feature of the ,celtic peoples4 ,roman civilisation scarcely reached them1 and left among them but few traces4 ,the ,teutonic invasion drove them back1 but did not penetrate them4 ,at the present hour they are still constant in resistance to an invasion dangerous in an altogether different way1- -that of modern civilisation1 destructive as it is of local variations and national types4 ,ireland in particular 7and herein we perhaps have the secret of her irremediable weakness7 is the only country in ,europe where the native can produce the titles of his descent1 and designate with certainty1 even in the darkness of prehistoric ages1 the race from which he has sprung4 ,it is in this secluded life1 in this defiance of all that comes from without1 that we must search for the explanation of the chief features of the ,celtic character4 ,it has all the failings1 and all the good qualities1 of the solitary man2 at once proud and timid1 strong in feeling and feeble in action1 at home free and unreserved1 to the outside world awkward and embarrassed4 ,it distrusts the foreigner1 because it sees in him a being more refined than itself1 who abuses its simplicity4 ,indifferent to the admiration of others1 it asks only one thing1 that it should be left to itself4 ,it is before all else a domestic race1 fitted for family life and fireside joys4 ,in no other race has the bond of blood been stronger1 or has it created more duties1 or attached man to his fellow with so much breadth and depth4 ,every social institution of the ,celtic peoples was in the beginning only an extension of the family4 ,a common tradition attests1 to this very day1 that nowhere has the trace of this great institution of relationship been better preserved than in ,brittany4 ,there is a widely-spread belief in that country1 that blood speaks1 and that two relatives1 unknown one to the other1 in any part of the world wheresoever it may be1 recognise each other by the secret and mysterious emotion which they feel in each other's presence4 ,respect for the dead rests on the same principle4 ,nowhere has reverence for the dead been greater than among the ,briton peoples2 nowhere have so many memories and prayers clustered about the tomb4 ,this is because life is not for these people a personal adventure1 undertaken by each man on his own account1 and at his own risks and perils2 it is a link in a long chain1 a gift received and handed on1 a debt paid and a duty done4 ,it is easily discernible how little fitted were natures so strongly concentrated to furnish one of those brilliant developments1 which imposes the momentary ascendency of a people on the world2 and that1 no doubt1 is why the part played externally by the ,cymric race has always been a secondary one4 ,destitute of the means of expansion1 alien to all idea of aggression and conquest1 little desirous of making its thought prevail outside itself1 it has only known how to retire so far as space has permitted1 and then1 at bay in its last place of retreat1 to make an invincible resistance to its enemies4 ,its very fidelity has been a useless devotion4 ,stubborn of submission and ever behind the age1 it is faithful to its conquerors when its conquerors are no longer faithful to themselves4 ,it was the last to defend its religious independence against ,rome--and it has become the staunchest stronghold of ,catholicism2 it was the last in ,france to defend its political independence against the king--and it has given to the world the last royalists4 ,thus the ,celtic race has worn itself out in resistance to its time1 and in the defence of desperate causes4 ,it does not seem as though in any epoch it had any aptitude for political life4 ,the spirit of family stifled within it all attempts at more extended organisation4 ,moreover1 it does not appear that the peoples which form it are by themselves susceptible of progress4 ,to them life appears as a fixed condition1 which man has no power to alter4 ,endowed with little initiative1 too much inclined to look upon themselves as minors and in tutelage1 they are quick to believe in destiny and resign themselves to it4 ,seeing how little audacious they are against ,god1 one would scarcely believe this race to be the daughter of ,japhet4 ,thence ensues its sadness4 ,take the songs of its bards of the sixth century2 they weep more defeats than they sing victories4 ,its history is itself only one long lament2 it still recalls its exiles1 its flights across the seas4 ,if at times it seems to be cheerful1 a tear is not slow to glisten behind its smile2 it does not know that strange forgetfulness of human conditions and destinies which is called gaiety4 ,its songs of joy end as elegies2 there is nothing to equal the delicious sadness of its national melodies4 ,one might call them emanations from on high which1 falling drop by drop upon the soul1 pass through it like memories of another world4 ,never have men feasted so long upon these solitary delights of the spirit1 these poetic memories which simultaneously intercross all the sensations of life1 so vague1 so deep1 so penetrative1 that one might die from them1 without being able to say whether it was from bitterness or sweetness4 ,the infinite delicacy of feeling which characterises the ,celtic race is closely allied to its need of concentration4 ,natures that are little capable of expansion are nearly always those that feel most deeply1 for the deeper the feeling1 the less it tends to express itself4 ,thence we have that charming shamefastness1 that veiled and exquisite sobriety1 equally far removed from the sentimental rhetoric too familiar to the ,latin races1 and the reflective simplicity of ,germany1 which are so admirably displayed in the ballads published by ,m4 de la ,villemarque4 ,the apparent reserve of the ,celtic peoples1 often taken for coldness1 is due to this inward timidity which makes them believe that a feeling loses half its value if it be expressed2 and that the heart ought to have no other spectator than itself4 ,if it be permitted us to assign sex to nations as to individuals1 we should have to say without hesitance that the ,celtic race1 especially with regard to its ,cymric or ,breton branch1 is an essentially feminine race4 ,no human family1 ,i believe1 has carried so much mystery into love4 ,no other has conceived with more delicacy the ideal of woman1 or been more fully dominated by it4 ,it is a sort of intoxication1 a madness1 a vertigo4 ,read the strange ,mabinogi of ,peredur1 or its ,french imitation ,parceval le ,gallois2 its pages are1 as it were1 dewy with feminine sentiment4 ,woman appears therein as a kind of vague vision1 an intermediary between man and the supernatural world4 ,i am acquainted with no literature that offers anything analogous to this4 ,compare ,guinevere or ,iseult with those ,scandinavian furies ,gudrun and ,chrimhilde1 and you will avow that woman such as chivalry conceived her1 an ideal of sweetness and loveliness set up as the supreme end of life1 is a creation neither classical1 nor ,christian1 nor ,teutonic1 but in reality ,celtic4 ,imaginative power is nearly always proportionate to concentration of feeling1 and lack of the external development of life4 ,the limited nature of ,greek and ,italian imagination is due to the easy expansiveness of the peoples of the ,south1 with whom the soul1 wholly spread abroad1 reflects but little within itself4 ,compared with the classical imagination1 the ,celtic imagination is indeed the infinite contrasted with the finite4 ,in the fine ,mabinogi of the ,dream of ,maxem ,wledig1 the ,emperor ,maximus beholds in a dream a young maiden so beautiful1 that on waking he declares he cannot live without her4 ,for several years his envoys scour the world in search of her2 at last she is discovered in ,brittany4 ,so is it with the ,celtic race2 it has worn itself out in taking dreams for realities1 and in pursuing its splendid visions4 ,the essential element in the ,celt's poetic life is the adventure--that is to say1 the pursuit of the unknown1 an endless quest after an object ever flying from desire4 ,it was of this that ,st4 ,brandan dreamed1 that ,peredur sought with his mystic chivalry1 that ,knight ,owen asked of his subterranean journeyings4 ,this race desires the infinite1 it thirsts for it1 and pursues it at all costs1 beyond the tomb1 beyond hell itself4 ,the characteristic failing of the ,breton peoples1 the tendency to drunkenness--a failing which1 according to the traditions of the sixth century1 was the cause of their disasters--is due to this invincible need of illusion4 ,do not say that it is an appetite for gross enjoyment2 never has there been a people more sober and more alien to all sensuality4 ,no1 the ,bretons sought in mead what ,owen1 ,st4 ,brandan1 and ,peredur sought in their own way1--the vision of the invisible world4 ,to this day in ,ireland drunkenness forms a part of all ,saint's ,day festivals--that is to say1 the festivals which best have retained their national and popular aspect4 ,thence arises the profound sense of the future and of the eternal destinies of his race1 which has ever borne up the ,cymry1 and kept him young still beside his conquerors who have grown old4 ,thence that dogma of the resurrection of the heroes1 which appears to have been one of those that ,christianity found most difficulty in rooting out4 ,thence ,celtic ,messianism1 that belief in a future avenger who shall restore ,cambria1 and deliver her out of the hands of her oppressors1 like the mysterious ,leminok promised by ,merlin1 the ,lez- ,breiz of the ,armoricans1 the ,arthur of the ,welsh4 ,footnote3 ,m4 ,augustin ,thierry has finely remarked that the renown attaching to ,welsh prophecies in the ,middle ,ages was due to their steadfastness in affirming the future of their race4 7,histoire de la ,conquete d',angleterre47 ,the hand that arose from the mere1 when the sword of ,arthur fell therein1 that seized it1 and brandished it thrice1 is the hope of the ,celtic races4 ,it is thus that little peoples dowered with imagination revenge themselves on their conquerors4 ,feeling themselves to be strong inwardly and weak outwardly1 they protest1 they exult2 and such a strife unloosing their might1 renders them capable of miracles4 ,nearly all great appeals to the supernatural are due to peoples hoping against all hope4 ,who shall say what in our own times has fermented in the bosom of the most stubborn1 the most powerless of nationalities--,poland8 ,israel in humiliation dreamed of the spiritual conquest of the world1 and the dream has come to pass4 ,,ii ,at a first glance the literature of ,wales is divided into three perfectly distinct distinct branches3 the bardic or lyric1 which shines forth in splendour in the sixth century by the works of ,taliessin1 of ,aneurin1 and of ,liware'h ,hen1 and continues through an uninterrupted series of imitations up to modern times2 the ,mabinogion1 or literature of romance1 fixed towards the twelfth century1 but linking themselves in the groundwork of their ideas with the remotest ages of the ,celtic genius2 finally1 an ecclesiastical and legendary literature1 impressed with a distinct stamp of its own4 ,these three literatures seem to have existed side by side1 almost without knowledge of one another4 ,the bards1 proud of their solemn rhetoric1 held in disdain the popular tales1 the form of which they considered careless2 on the other hand1 both bards and romancers appear to have had few relations with the clergy2 and one at times might be tempted to suppose that they ignored the existence of ,christianity4 ,to our thinking it is in the ,mabinogion that the true expression of the ,celtic genius is to be sought2 and it is surprising that so curious a literature1 the source of nearly all the romantic creations of ,europe1 should have remained unknown until our own days4 ,the cause is doubtless to be ascribed to the dispersed state of the ,welsh manuscripts1 pursued till last century by the ,english1 as seditious books compromising those who possessed them4 ,often too they fell into hands of ignorant owners whose caprice or ill-will sufficed to keep them from critical research4 ,the ,mabinogion have been preserved for us in two principal documents--one of the thirteenth century from the library of ,hengurt1 belonging to the ,vaughan family2 the other dating from the fourteenth century1 known under the name of the ,red ,book of ,hergest1 and now in ,jesus ,college1 ,oxford4 ,no doubt it was some such collection that charmed the weary hours of the hapless ,leolin in the ,tower of ,london1 and was burned after his condemnation1 with the other ,welsh books which had been the companions of his captivity4 ,lady ,charlotte ,guest has based her edition on the ,oxford manuscript2 it cannot be sufficiently regretted that paltry considerations have caused her to be refused the use of the earlier manuscript1 of which the later appears to be only a copy4 ,regrets are redoubled when one knows that several ,welsh texts1 which were seen and copied fifty years ago1 have now disappeared4 ,it is in the presence of facts such as these that one comes to believe that revolutions--in general so destructive of the works of the past--are favourable to the preservation of literary monuments1 by compelling their concentration in great centres1 where their existence1 as well as their publicity1 is assured4 ,the general tone of the ,mabinogion is rather romantic than epic4 ,life is treated naively and not too emphatically4 ,the hero's individuality is limitless4 ,we have free and noble natures acting in all their spontaneity4 ,each man appears as a kind of demi-god characterised by a supernatural gift4 ,this gift is nearly always connected with some miraculous object1 which in some measure is the personal seal of him who possesses it4 ,the inferior classes1 which this people of heroes necessarily supposes beneath it1 scarcely show themselves1 except in the exercise of some trade1 for practising which they are held in high esteem4 ,the somewhat complicated products of human industry are regarded as living beings1 and in their manner endowed with magical properties4 ,a multiplicity of celebrated objects have proper names1 such as the drinking-cup1 the lance1 the sword1 and the shield of ,arthur2 the chess-board of ,gwendolen1 on which the black pieces played of their own accord against the white2 the horn of ,bran ,galed1 where one found whatever liquor one desired2 the chariot of ,morgan1 which directed itself to the place to which one wished to go2 the pot of ,tyrnog1 which would not cook when meat for a coward was put into it2 the grindstone of ,tudwal1 which would only sharpen brave men's swords2 the coat of ,padarn1 which none save a noble could don2 and the mantle of ,tegan1 which no woman could put upon herself were she not above reproach4 ,footnote3 ,here may be recognised the origin of trial by court mantle1 one of the most interesting episodes in ,lancelot of the ,lake4 ,the animal is conceived in a still more individual way2 it has a proper name1 personal qualities1 and a role which it develops at its own will and with full consciousness4 ,the same hero appears as at once man and animal1 without it being possible to trace the line of demarcation between the two natures4 ,the tale of ,kilhwch and ,olwen1 the most extraordinary of the ,mabinogion1 deals with ,arthur's struggle against the wild-boar king ,twrch ,trwyth1 who with his seven cubs holds in check all the heroes of the ,round ,table4 ,the adventures of the three hundred ravens of ,kerverhenn similarly form the subject of the ,dream of ,rhonabwy4 ,the idea of moral merit and demerit is almost wholly absent from all these compositions4 ,there are wicked beings who insult ladies1 who tyrannise over their neighbours1 who only find pleasure in evil because such is their nature2 but it does not appear that they incur wrath on that account4 ,arthur's knights pursue them1 not as criminals but as mischievous fellows4 ,all other beings are perfectly good and just1 but more or less richly gifted4 ,this is the dream of an amiable and gentle race which looks upon evil as being the work of destiny1 and not a product of the human conscience4 ,all nature is enchanted1 and fruitful as imagination itself in indefinitely varied creations4 ,christianity rarely discloses itself2 although at times its proximity can be felt1 it alters in no respect the purely natural surroundings in which everything takes place4 ,a bishop figures at table beside ,arthur1 but his function is strictly limited to blessing the dishes4 ,the ,irish saints1 who at one time present themselves to give their benediction to ,arthur and receive favours at his hands1 are portrayed as a race of men vaguely known and difficult to understand4 ,no mediaeval literature held itself further removed from all monastic influence4 ,we evidently must suppose that the ,welsh bards and story-tellers lived in a state of great isolation from the clergy1 and had their culture and traditions quite apart4 ,the charm of the ,mabinogion principally resides in the amiable serenity of the ,celtic mind1 neither sad nor gay1 ever in suspense between a smile and a tear4 ,we have in them the simple recital of a child1 unwitting of any distinction between the noble and the common2 there is something of that softly animated world1 of that calm and tranquil ideal to which ,ariosto's stanzas transport us4 ,the chatter of the later mediaeval ,french and ,german imitators can give no idea of this charming manner of narration4 ,the skilful ,chretien de ,troyes himself remains in this respect far below the ,welsh story- tellers1 and as for ,wolfram of ,eschenbach1 it must be avowed that the joy of the first discovery has carried ,german critics too far in the exaggeration of his merits4 ,he loses himself in interminable descriptions1 and almost completely ignores the art of his recital4 ,what strikes one at a first glance in the imaginative compositions of the ,celtic races1 above all when they are contrasted with those of the ,teutonic races1 is the extreme mildness of manners pervading them4 ,there are none of those frightful vengeances which fill the ,edda and the ,niebelungen4 ,compare the ,teutonic with the ,gaelic hero1--,beowulf with ,peredur1 for example4 ,what a difference there is6 ,in the one all the horror of disgusting and blood-embrued barbarism1 the drunkenness of carnage1 the disinterested taste1 if ,i may say so1 for destruction and death2 in the other a profound sense of justice1 a great height of personal pride it is true1 but also a great capacity for devotion1 an exquisite loyalty4 ,the tyrannical man1 the monster1 the ,black ,man1 find a place here like the ,lestrigons and the ,cyclops of ,homer only to inspire horror by contrast with softer manners2 they are almost what the wicked man is in the naive imagination of a child brought up by a mother in the ideas of a gentle and pious morality4 ,the primitive man of ,teutonism is revolting by his purposeless brutality1 by a love of evil that only gives him skill and strength in the service of hatred and injury4 ,the ,cymric hero on the other hand1 even in his wildest flights1 seems possessed by habits of kindness and a warm sympathy with the weakv4 ,sympathy indeed is one of the deepest feelings among the ,celtic peoples4 ,even ,judas is not denied a share of their pity4 ,st4 ,brandan found him upon a rock in the midst of the ,polar seas2 once a week he passes a day there to refresh himself from the fires of hell4 ,a cloak that he had given to a beggar is hung before him1 and tempers his sufferings4 ,if ,wales has a right to be proud of her ,mabinogion1 she has not less to felicitate herself in having found a translator truly worthy of interpreting them4 ,for the proper understanding of these original beauties there was needed a delicate appreciation of ,welsh narration1 and an intelligence of the naive order1 qualities of which an erudite translator would with difficulty have been capable4 ,to render these gracious imaginings of a people so eminently dowered with feminine tact1 the pen of a woman was necessary4 ,simple1 animated1 without effort and without vulgarity1 ,lady ,guest's translation is a faithful mirror of the original ,cymric4 ,even supposing that1 as regards philology1 the labours of this noble ,welsh lady be destined to receive improvement1 that does not prevent her book from for ever remaining a work of erudition and highly distinguished taste4 ,footnote3 ,m4 de la ,villemarque published in #ahdc under the title of ,cantes populaires des anciens ,bretons1 a ,french translation of the narratives that ,guest had already presented in ,english at that time4 ,the ,mabinogion1 or at least the writings which ,lady ,guest thought she ought to include under this common name1 divide themselves into two perfectly distinct classes--some connected exclusively with the two peninsulas of ,wales and ,cornwall1 and relating to the heroic personality of ,arthur2 the others alien to ,arthur1 having for their scene not only the parts of ,england that have remained ,cymric1 but the whole of ,great ,britain1 and leading us back by the persons and traditions mentioned in them to the later years of the ,roman occupation4 ,the second class1 of greater antiquity than the first1 at least on the ground of subject1 is also distinguished by a much more mythological character1 a bolder use of the miraculous1 an enigmatical form1 a style full of alliteration and plays upon words4 ,of this number are the tales of ,pwyll1 of ,bramwen1 of ,manawyddan1 of ,math the son of ,mathonwy1 the ,dream of the ,emperor ,maximus1 the story of ,llud and ,llewelys1 and the legend of ,taliessin4 ,to the ,arthurian cycle belong the narratives of ,owen1 of ,geraint1 of ,peredur1 of ,kilhwch and ,olwen1 and the ,dream of ,rhonabwy4 ,it is also to be remarked that the two last-named narratives have a particularly antique character4 ,in them ,arthur dwells in ,cornwall1 and not as in the others at ,caerleon on the ,usk4 ,in them he appears with an individual character1 hunting and taking a personal part in warfare1 while in the more modern tales he is only an emperor all- powerful and impassive1 a truly sluggard hero1 around whom a pleiad of active heroes groups itself4 ,the ,mabinogi of ,kilhwch and ,olwen1 by its entirely primitive aspect1 by the part played in it by the wild-boar in conformity to the spirit of ,celtic mythology1 by the wholly supernatural and magical character of the narration1 by innumerable allusions the sense of which escapes us1 forms a cycle by itself4 ,it represents for us the ,cymric conception in all its purity1 before it had been modified by the introduction of any foreign element4 ,without attempting here to analyse this curious poem1 ,i should like by some extracts to make its antique aspect and high originality apparent4 ,kilhwch1 the son of ,kilydd1 prince of ,kelyddon1 having heard some one mention the name of ,olwen1 daughter of ,yspaddaden ,penkawr1 falls violently in love1 without having ever seen her4 ,he goes to find ,arthur1 that he may ask for his aid in the difficult undertaking which he meditates2 in point of fact1 he does not know in what country the fair one of his affection dwells4 ,yspaddaden is besides a frightful tyrant who suffers no man to go from his castle alive1 and whose death is linked by destiny to the marriage of his daughter4 ,footnote3 ,the idea of making the death of the father the condition of possession of the daughter is to be found in several romances of the ,breton cycle1 in ,lancelot for example4 ,arthur grants ,kilhwch some of his most valiant comrades in arms to assist him in this enterprise4 ,after wonderful adventures the knights arrive at the castle of ,yspaddaden1 and succeed in seeing the young maiden of ,kilhwch's dream4 ,only after three days of persistent struggle do they manage to obtain a response from ,olwen's father1 who attaches his daughter's hand to conditions apparently impossible of realisation4 ,the performance of these trials makes a long chain of adventures1 the framework of a veritable romantic epic which has come to us in a very fragmentary form4 ,of the thirty-eight adventures imposed on ,kilhwch the manuscript used by ,lady ,guest only relates seven or eight4 ,i choose at random one of these narratives1 which appears to me fitted to give an idea of the whole composition4 ,it deals with the finding of ,mabon the son of ,modron1 who was carried away from his mother three days after his birth1 and whose deliverance is one of the labours exacted of ,kilhwch4 ,his followers said unto ,arthur1 ',lord1 go thou home2 thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these4' ,then said ,arthur1 ',it were well for thee1 ,gwrhyr ,gwalstawd ,ieithoedd1 to go upon this quest1 for thou knowest all languages1 and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts4 ,thou1 ,eidoel1 oughtest likewise to go with my men in search of thy cousin4 ,and as for you1 ,kai and ,bedwyr1 ,i have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of1 that ye will achieve it4 ,achieve ye this adventure for me4' ,they went forward until they came to the ,ousel of ,cilgwri4 ,and ,gwrhyr adjured her for the sake of ,heaven1 saying1 ,tell me if thou knowest aught of ,mabon the son of ,modron1 who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall4 ,and the ,ousel answered1 ,when ,i first came here there was a smith's anvil in this place1 and ,i was then a young bird2 and from that time no work has been done upon it1 save the pecking of my beak every evening1 and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof2 yet all the vengeance of ,heaven be upon me1 if during all that time ,i have ever heard of the man for whom you enquire4 ,nevertheless ,i will do that which is right1 and that which it is fitting ,i should do for an embassy from ,arthur4 ,there is a race of animals who were formed before me1 and ,i will be your guide to them4 ,so they proceeded to the place where was the ,stag of ,redynvre4 ,stag of ,redynvre1 behold we are come to thee1 an embassy from ,arthur1 for we have not heard of any animal older than thou4 ,say1 knowest thou aught of ,mabon the son of ,modron1 who was taken from his mother when three nights old8 ,the ,stag said1 ,when first ,i came hither there was a plain all around me1 without any trees save one oak sapling1 which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches4 ,and that oak has since perished1 so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump2 and from that day to this ,i have been here1 yet have ,i never heard of the man for whom you enquire4 ,nevertheless1 being an embassy from ,arthur1 ,i will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before ,i was4 ,so they proceeded to the place where was the ,owl of ,cwm ,cawlwyd4 ,owl of ,cwm ,cawlwyd1 here is an embassy from ,arthur2 knowest thou aught of ,mabon the son of ,modron1 who was taken after three nights from his mother8 ,if ,i knew ,i would tell you4 ,when first ,i came hither1 the wide valley you see was a wooded glen4 ,and a race of men came and rooted it up4 ,and there grew there a second wood2 and this wood is the third4 ,my wings1 are they not withered stumps8 ,yet all this time1 even until to-day1 ,i have never heard of the man for whom you enquire4 ,nevertheless ,i will be the guide of ,arthur's embassy until you come to the place where is the oldest animal in the world1 and the one that has travelled most1 the ,eagle of ,gwern ,abwy4 ,gwrhyr said1 ,eagle of ,gwern ,abwy1 we have come to thee an embassy from ,arthur1 to ask thee if thou knowest aught of ,mabon the son of ,modron1 who was taken from his mother when he was three nights old4 ,the ,eagle said1 ,i have been here for a great space of time1 and when ,i first came hither there was a rock here1 from the top of which ,i pecked at the stars every evening2 and now it is not so much as a span high4 ,from that day to this ,i have been here1 and ,i have never heard of the man for whom you enquire1 except once when ,i went in search of food as far as ,llyn ,llyw4 ,and when ,i came there1 ,i struck my talons into a salmon1 thinking he would serve me as food for a long time4 ,but he drew me into the deep1 and ,i was scarcely able to escape from him4 ,after that ,i went with my whole kindred to attack him1 and to try to destroy him1 but he sent messengers1 and made peace with me2 and came and besought me to take fifty fish spears out of his back4 ,unless he know something of him whom you seek1 ,i cannot tell who may4 ,however1 ,i will guide you to the place where he is4 ,so they went thither2 and the ,eagle said1 ,salmon of ,llyn ,llyw1 ,i have come to thee with an embassy from ,arthur1 to ask thee if thou knowest aught concerning ,mabon the son of ,modron1 who was taken away at three nights old from his mother4 ,as much as ,i know ,i will tell thee4 ,with every tide ,i go along the river upwards1 until ,i come near to the walls of ,gloucester1 and there have ,i found such wrong as ,i never found elsewhere2 and to the end that ye may give credence thereto1 let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders4 ,so ,kai and ,gwrhyr ,gwalstawd ,ieithoedd went upon the shoulders of the salmon1 and they proceeded until they came unto the wall of the prison1 and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon4 ,said ,gwrhyr1 ,who is it that laments in this house of stone8 ,alas there is reason enough for whoever is here to lament4 ,it is ,mabon the son of ,modron who is here imprisoned2 and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine1 neither that of ,lludd ,llaw ,ereint1 nor that of ,greid the son of ,eri4 ,hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver1 or for any gifts of wealth1 or through battle and fighting8 ,by fighting will whatever ,i may gain be obtained4 ,we shall not follow the ,cymric hero through trials the result of which can be foreseen4 ,what1 above all else1 is striking in these strange legends is the part played by animals1 transformed by the ,welsh imagination into intelligent beings4 ,no race conversed so intimately as did the ,celtic race with the lower creation1 and accorded it so large a share of moral life4 ,footnote3 ,see especially the narratives of ,nennius1 and of ,giraldus ,cambrensis4 ,in them animals have at least as important a part as men4 ,the close association of man and animal1 the fictions so dear to mediaeval poetry of the ,knight of the ,lion1 the ,knight of the ,falcon1 the ,knight of the ,swan1 the vows consecrated by the presence of birds of noble repute1 are equally ,breton imaginings4 ,ecclesiastical literature itself presents analogous features2 gentleness towards animals informs all the legends of the saints of ,brittany and ,ireland4 ,one day ,st4 ,kevin fell asleep1 while he was praying at his window with outstretched arms2 and a swallow perceiving the open hand of the venerable monk1 considered it an excellent place wherein to make her nest4 ,the saint on awaking saw the mother sitting upon her eggs1 and1 loth to disturb her1 waited for the little ones to be hatched before he arose from his knees4 ,this touching sympathy was derived from the singular vivacity with which the ,celtic races have inspired their feeling for nature4 ,their mythology is nothing more than a transparent naturalism1 not that anthropomorphic naturalism of ,greece and ,india1 in which the forces of the universe1 viewed as living beings and endowed with consciousness1 tend more and more to detach themselves from physical phenomena1 and to become moral beings2 but in some measure a realistic naturalism1 the love of nature for herself1 the vivid impression of her magic1 accompanied by the sorrowful feeling that man knows1 when1 face to face with her1 he believes that he hears her commune with him concerning his origin and his destiny4 ,the legend of ,merlin mirrors this feeling4 ,seduced by a fairy of the woods1 he flies with her and becomes a savage4 ,arthur's messengers come upon him as he is singing by the side of a fountain2 he is led back again to court2 but the charm carries him away4 ,he returns to his forests1 and this time for ever4 ,under a thicket of hawthorn ,vivien has built him a magical prison4 ,there he prophesies the future of the ,celtic races2 he speaks of a maiden of the woods1 now visible and now unseen1 who holds him captive by her spells4 ,several ,arthurian legends are impressed with the same character4 ,arthur himself in popular belief became1 as it were1 a woodland spirit4 ,the foresters on their nightly round by the light of the moon1 says ,gervais of ,tilbury1 ,footnote3 ,an ,english chronicler of the twelfth century4 often hear a great sound as of horns1 and meet bands of huntsmen2 when they are asked whence they come1 these huntsmen make reply that they are of ,king ,arthur's following4 ,footnote3 ,this manner of explaining all the unknown noises of the wood by ,arthur's ,hunting is still to be found in several districts4 ,to understand properly the cult of nature1 and1 if ,i may say so1 of landscape among the ,celts1 see ,gildas and ,nennius1 pp4 #aca1 #acf1 #acg1 etc4 7,edit4 ,san ,marte1 ,berlin4 #ahhd72 ,even the ,french imitators of the ,breton romances keep an impression--although a rather insipid one--of the attraction exercised by nature on the ,celtic imagination4 ,elaine1 the heroine of ,lancelot1 the ideal of ,breton perfection1 passes her life with her companions in a garden1 in the midst of flowers which she tends4 ,every flower culled by her hands is at the instant restored to life2 and the worshippers of her memory are under an obligation1 when they cut a flower1 to sow another in its place4 ,the worship of forest1 and fountain1 and stone is to be explained by this primitive naturalism1 which all the ,councils of the ,church held in ,brittany united to proscribe4 ,the stone1 in truth1 seems the natural symbol of the ,celtic races4 ,it is an immutable witness that has no death4 ,the animal1 the plant1 above all the human figure1 only express the divine life under a determinate form2 the stone on the contrary1 adapted to receive all forms1 has been the fetish of peoples in their childhood4 ,pausanias saw1 still standing erect1 the thirty square stones of ,pharse1 each bearing the name of a divinity4 ,the men-hir to be met with over the whole surface of the ancient world1 what is it but the monument of primitive humanity1 a living witness of its faith in ,heaven8 ,footnote3 ,it is1 however1 doubtful whether the monuments known in ,france at ,celtic 7men-hir4 dot-men1 etc47 are the work of the ,celts4 ,with ,m4 ,worsaae and the ,copenhagen archaeologists1 ,i am inclined to think that these monuments belong to a more ancient humanity4 ,never1 in fact1 has any branch of the ,indo-,european race built in this fashion4 7,see two articles by ,m4 ,merimee in ,l',athenaum franfais1 ,sept4 #aath1 #aheb1 and ,april #beth1 #ahec47 ,it has frequently been observed that the majority of popular beliefs still extant in our different provinces are of ,celtic origin4 ,a not less remarkable fact is the strong tinge of naturalism dominant in these beliefs4 ,nay more1 every time that the old ,celtic spirit appears in our history1 there is to be seen1 re-born with it1 faith in nature and her magic influences4 ,one of the most characteristic of these manifestations seems to me to be that of ,joan of ,arc4 ,that indomitable hope1 that tenacity in the affirmation of the future1 that belief that the salvation of the kingdom will come from a woman1--all those features1 far removed as they are from the taste of antiquity1 and from ,teutonic taste1 are in many respects ,celtic4 ,the memory of the ancient cult perpetuated itself at ,domremy1 as in so many other places1 under the form of popular superstition4 ,the cottage of the family of ,arc was shaded by a beech tree1 famed in the country and reputed to be the abode of fairies4 ,in her childhood ,joan used to go and hang upon its branches garlands of leaves and flowers1 which1 so it was said1 disappeared during the night4 ,the terms of her accusation speak with horror of this innocent custom1 as of a crime against the faith2 and indeed they were not altogether deceived1 those unpitying theologians who judged the holy maid4 ,although she knew it not1 she was more ,celtic than ,christian4 ,she has been foretold by ,merlin2 she knows of neither ,pope nor ,church1-- she only believes the voice that speaks in her own heart4 ,this voice she hears in the fields1 in the sough of the wind among the trees1 when measured and distant sounds fair upon her ears4 ,during her trial1 worn out with questions and scholastic subtleties1 she is asked whether she still hears her voices4 ,take me to the woods4 she says1 and ,i shall hear them clearly4 ,her legend is tinged with the same colours2 nature loved her1 the wolves never touched the sheep of her flock4 ,when she was a little girl1 the birds used to come and eat bread from her lap as though they were tame4 ,footnote3 ,since the first publication of these views1 on which ,i should not like more emphasis to be put than what belongs to a passing impression1 similar considerations have been developed1 in terms that appear a little too positive1 by ,m4 ,h4 ,martin 7,history of ,france1 vol4 vi41 #ahef74 ,the objections raised to it are1 for the most part1 due to the fact that very few people are capable of delicately appreciating questions of this kind1 relative to the genius of races4 ,it frequently happens that the resurrection of an old national genius takes place under a very different form from that which one would have expected1 and by means of individuals who have no idea of the ethnographical part which they play4 ,,iii ,the ,,mabinogion do not recommend themselves to our study1 only as a manifestation of the romantic genius of the ,breton races4 ,it was through them that the ,welsh imagination exercised its influence upon the ,continent1 that it transformed1 in the twelfth century1 the poetic art of ,europe1 and realised this miracle1--that the creations of a half-conquered race have become the universal feast of imagination for mankind4 ,few heroes owe less to reality than ,arthur4 ,neither ,gildas nor ,aneurin1 his contemporaries1 speak of him2 ,bede did not even know his name2 ,taliessin and ,liwarc'h ,hen gave him only a secondary place4 ,in ,nennius1 on the other hand1 who lived about #hej1 the legend has fully unfolded4 ,arthur is already the exterminator of the ,saxons2 he has never experienced defeat2 he is the suzerain of an army of kings4 ,finally1 in ,geoffrey of ,monmouth1 the epic creation culminates4 ,arthur reigns over the whole earth2 he conquers ,ireland1 ,norway1 ,gascony1 and ,france4 ,at ,caerleon he holds a tournament at which all the monarchs of the world are present2 there he puts upon his head thirty crowns1 and exacts recognition as the sovereign lord of the universe4 ,so incredible is it that a petty king of the sixth century1 scarcely remarked by his contemporaries1 should have taken in posterity such colossal proportions1 that several critics have supposed that the legendary ,arthur and the obscure chieftain who bore that name have nothing in common1 the one with the other1 and that the son of ,uther ,pendragon is a wholly ideal hero1 a survivor of the old ,cymric mythology4 ,as a matter of fact1 in the symbols of ,neo-,druidism--that is to say1 of that secret doctrine1 the outcome of ,druidism1 which prolonged its existence even to the ,middle ,ages under the form of ,freemasonry--we again find ,arthur transformed into a divine personage1 and playing a purely mythological part4 ,it must at least be allowed that1 if behind the fable some reality lies hidden1 history offers us no means of attaining it4 ,it cannot be doubted that the discovery of ,arthur's tomb in the ,isle of ,avalon in #aahi was an invention of ,norman policy1 just as in #abhc1 the very year in which ,edward ,i4 was engaged in crushing out the last vestiges of ,welsh independence1 ,arthur's crown was very conveniently found1 and forthwith united to the other crown jewels of ,england4 ,we naturally expect ,arthur1 now become the representative of ,welsh nationality1 to sustain in the ,mabinogion a character analogous to this role1 and therein1 as in ,nennius1 to serve the hatred of the vanquished against the ,saxons4 ,but such is not the case4 ,arthur1 in the ,mabinogion1 exhibits no characteristics of patriotic resistance2 his part is limited to uniting heroes around him1 to maintaining the retainers of his palace1 and to enforcing the laws of his order of chivalry4 ,he is too strong for any one to dream of attacking him4 ,he is the ,charlemagne of the ,carlovingian romances1 the ,agamemnon of ,homer1--one of those neutral personalities that serve but to give unity to the poem4 ,the idea of warfare against the alien1 hatred towards the ,saxon1 does not appear in a single instance4 ,the heroes of the ,mabinogion have no fatherland2 each fights to show his personal excellence1 and satisfy his taste for adventure1 but not to defend a national cause4 ,britain is the universe2 no one suspects that beyond the ,cymry there may be other nations and other races4 ,it was by this ideal and representative character that the ,arthurian legend had such an astonishing prestige throughout the whole world4 ,had ,arthur been only a provincial hero1 the more or less happy defender of a little country1 all peoples would not have adopted him1 any more than they have adopted the ,marco of the ,serbs1 ,footnote3 ,a ,servian ballad-hero4 or the ,robin ,hood of the ,saxons4 ,the ,arthur who has charmed the world is the head of an order of equality1 in which all sit at the same table1 in which a man's worth depends upon his valour and his natural gifts4 ,what mattered to the world the fate of an unknown peninsula1 and the strife waged on its behalf8 ,what enchanted it was the ideal court presided over by ,gwenhwyvar 7,guinevere71 where around the monarchical unity the flower of heroes was gathered together1 where ladies1 as chaste as they were beautiful1 loved according to the laws of chivalry1 and where the time was passed in listening to stories1 and learning civility and beautiful manners4 ,this is the secret of the magic of that ,round ,table1 about which the ,middle ,ages grouped all their ideas of heroism1 of beauty1 of modesty1 and of love4 ,we need not stop to inquire whether the ideal of a gentle and polished society in the midst of the barbarian world is1 in all its features1 a purely ,breton creation1 whether the spirit of the courts of the ,continent has not in some measure furnished the model1 and whether the ,mabinogion themselves have not felt the reaction of the ,french imitations2,footnote3 ,the surviving version of the ,mdbinogian has a later date than these imitations1 and the ,red ,book includes several tales borrowed from the ,french trouveres4 ,but it is out of the question to maintain that the really ,welsh narratives have been borrowed in a like manner1 since among them are some unknown to the trouveres1 which could only possess interest for ,breton countries it suffices for us that the new order of sentiments which we have just indicated was1 throughout the whole of the ,middle ,ages1 persistently attached to the groundwork of the ,cymric romances4 ,such an association could not be fortuitous2 if the imitations are all so glaring in colour1 it is evidently because in the original this same colour is to be found united to particularly strong character4 ,how otherwise shall we explain why a forgotten tribe on the very confines of the world should have imposed its heroes upon ,europe1 and1 in the domain of imagination1 accomplished one of the most singular revolutions known to the historian of letters8 ,if1 in fact1 one compares ,european literature before the introduction of the ,cymric romances1 with what it became when the trouveres set themselves to draw from ,breton sources1 one recognises readily that with the ,breton narratives a new element entered into the poetic conception of the ,christian peoples1 and modified it profoundly4 ,the ,carlovingian poem1 both by its structure and by the means which it employs1 does not depart from classical ideas4 ,the motives of man's action are the same as in the ,greek epic4 ,the essentially romantic element1 the life of forests and mysterious adventure1 the feeling for nature1 and that impulse of imagination which makes the ,breton warrior unceasingly pursue the unknown2-- nothing of all this is as yet to be observed4 ,roland differs from the heroes of ,homer only by his armour2 in heart he is the brother of ,ajax or ,achilles4 ,perceval1 on the contrary1 belongs to another world1 separated by a great gulf from that in which the heroes of antiquity live and act4 ,it was above all by the creation of woman's character1 by introducing into mediaeval poetry1 hitherto hard and austere1 the nuances of love1 that the ,breton romances brought about this curious metamorphosis4 ,it was like an electric spark2 in a few years ,european taste was changed4 ,nearly all the types of womankind known to the ,middle ,ages1 ,guinevere1 ,iseult1 ,enid1 are derived from ,arthur's court4 ,in the ,carlovingian poems woman is a nonentity without character or individuality2 in them love is either brutal1 as in the romance of ,ferebras1 or scarcely indicated1 as in the ,song of ,roland4 ,in the ,mabinogion1 on the other hand1 the principal part always belongs to the women4 ,chivalrous gallantry1 which makes the warrior's happiness to consist in serving a woman and meriting her esteem1 the belief that the noblest use of strength is to succour and avenge weakness1 results1 ,i know1 from a turn of imagination which possessed nearly all ,european peoples in the twelfth century2 but it cannot be doubted that this turn of imagination first found literary expression among the ,breton peoples4 ,one of the most surprising features in the ,mabinogion is the delicacy of the feminine feeling breathed in them2 an impropriety or a gross word is never to be met with4 ,it would be necessary to quote at length the two romances of ,peredur and ,geraint to demonstrate an innocence such as this2 but the naive simplicity of these charming compositions forbids us to see in this innocence any underlying meaning4 ,the zeal of the knight in the defence of ladies' honour became a satirical euphemism only in the ,french imitators1 who transformed the virginal modesty of the ,breton romances into a shameless gallantry--so far indeed that these compositions1 chaste as they are in the original1 became the scandal of the ,middle ,ages1 provoked censures1 and were the occasion of the ideas of immorality which1 for religious people1 still cluster about the name of romance4 ,certainly chivalry is too complex a fact for us to be permitted to assign it to any single origin4 ,let us say however that in the idea of envisaging the esteem of a woman as the highest object of human activity1 and setting up love as the supreme principle of morality1 there is nothing of the antique spirit1 or indeed of the ,teutonic4 ,is it in the ,edda or in the ,niebelungen that we shall find the germ of this spirit of pure love1 of exalted devotion1 which forms the very soul of chivalry8 ,as to following the suggestion of some critics and seeking among the ,arabs for the beginnings of this institution1 surely of all literary paradoxes ever mooted1 this is one of the most singular4 ,the idea of conquering woman in a land where she is bought and sold1 of seeking her esteem in a land where she is scarcely considered capable of moral merit6 ,i shall oppose the partizans of this hypothesis with one single fact1--the surprise experienced by the ,arabs of ,algeria when1 by a somewhat unfortunate recollection of mediaeval tournaments1 the ladies were entrusted with the presentation of prizes at the ,beiram races4 ,what to the knight appeared an unparalleled honour seemed to the ,arabs a humiliation and almost an insult4 ,the introduction of the ,breton romances into the current of ,european literature worked a not less profound revolution in the manner of conceiving and employing the marvellous4 ,in the ,carlovingian poems the marvellous is timid1 and conforms to the ,christian faith2 the supernatural is produced directly by ,god or his envoys4 ,among the ,cymry1 on the contrary1 the principle of the marvel is in nature herself1 in her hidden forces1 in her inexhaustible fecundity4 ,there is a mysterious swan1 a prophetic bird1 a suddenly appearing hand1 a giant1 a black tyrant1 a magic mist1 a dragon1 a cry that causes the hearer to die of terror1 an object with extraordinary properties4 ,there is no trace of the monotheistic conception1 in which the marvellous is only a miracle1 a derogation of eternal laws4 ,nor are there any of those personifications of the life of nature which form the essential part of the ,greek and ,indian mythologies4 ,here we have perfect naturalism1 an unlimited faith in the possible1 belief in the existence of independent beings bearing within themselves the principle of their strength1--an idea quite opposed to ,christianity1 which in such beings necessarily sees either angels or fiends4 ,and besides1 these strange beings are always presented as being outside the pale of the ,church2 and when the knight of the ,round ,table has conquered them1 he forces them to go and pay homage to ,guinevere1 and have themselves baptised4 ,now1 if in poetry there is a marvellous element that we might accept1 surely it is this4 ,classical mythology1 taken in its first simplicity1 is too bold1 taken as a mere figure of rhetoric1 too insipid1 to give us satisfaction4 ,as to the marvellous element in ,christianity1 ,boileau is right3 no fiction is compatible with such a dogmatism4 ,there remains then the purely naturalistic marvellous1 nature interesting herself in action and acting herself1 the great mystery of fatality unveiling itself by the secret conspiring of all beings1 as in ,shakespeare and ,ariosto4 ,it would be curious to ascertain how much of the ,celt there is in the former of these poets2 as for ,ariosto he is the ,breton poet par excellence4 ,all his machinery1 all his means of interest1 all his fine shades of sentiment1 all his types of women1 all his adventures1 are borrowed from the ,breton romances4 ,do we now understand the intellectual role of that little race which gave to the world ,arthur1 ,guinevere1 ,lancelot1 ,perceval1 ,merlin1 ,st4 ,brandan1 ,st4 ,patrick1 and almost all the poetical cycles of the ,middle ,ages8 ,what a striking destiny some nations have1 in alone possessing the right to cause the acceptance of their heroes1 as though for that were necessary a quite peculiar degree of authority1 seriousness1 and faith6 ,and it is a strange thing that it is to the ,normans1 of all peoples the one least sympathetically inclined towards the ,bretons1 that we owe the renown of the ,breton fables4 ,brilliant and imitative1 the ,norman everywhere became the pre- eminent representative of the nation on which he had at first imposed himself by force4 ,french in ,france1 ,english in ,england1 ,italian in ,italy1 ,russian at ,novgorod1 he forgot his own language to speak that of the race which he had conquered1 and to become the interpreter of its genius4 ,the deeply suggestive character of the ,welsh romances could not fail to impress men so prompt to seize and assimilate the ideas of the foreigner4 ,the first revelation of the ,breton fables1 the ,latin ,chronicle of ,geoffrey of ,monmouth1 appeared about the year #aacg1 under the auspices of ,robert of ,gloucester1 natural son of ,henry ,i4 ,henry ,,ii4 acquired a taste for the same narratives1 and at his request ,robert ,wace1 in #aaee1 wrote in ,french the first history of ,arthur1 thus opening the path in which walked after him a host of poets or imitators of all nationalities1 ,french1 ,provencal1 ,italian1 ,spanish1 ,english1 ,scandinavian1 ,greek1 and ,georgian4 ,we need not belittle the glory of the first trouveres who put into a language1 then read and understood from one end of ,europe to the other1 fictions which1 but for them1 would have doubtless remained for ever unknown4 ,it is however difficult to attribute to them an inventive faculty1 such as would permit them to merit the title of creators4 ,the numerous passages in which one feels that they do not fully understand the original which they imitate1 and in which they attempt to give a natural significance to circumstances of which the mythological bearing escaped them1 suffice to prove that1 as a rule1 they were satisfied to make a fairly faithful copy of the work before their eyes4 ,what part has ,armorican ,brittany played in the creation or propagation of the legends of the ,round ,table8 ,it is impossible to say with any degree of precision2 and in truth such a question becomes a matter of secondary import once we form a just idea of the close bonds of fraternity1 which did not cease until the twelfth century to unite the two branches of the ,breton peoples4 ,that the heroic traditions of ,wales long continued to live in the branch of the ,cymric family which came and settled in ,armorica cannot be doubted when we find ,geraint1 ,urien1 and other heroes become saints in ,lower ,brittany2 ,footnote3 ,i shall only cite a single proof2 it is a law of ,edward the ,confessor3 ,britones vero ,armorici quum venerint in regno isto1 suscipi debent et in regno protegi sicut probi cives de corpore regni hujus2 exierunt quondam de sanguine ,britonum regni hujus4--,wilkins1 ,leges ,anglo-,saxonicae1 p4 #bjf4;and above all when we see one of the most essential episodes of the ,arthurian cycle1 that of the ,forest of ,broceliande1 placed in the same country4 ,a large number of facts collected by ,m4 de la ,villemarrque ,footnote3 ,les ,romans de la ,table-,ronde et les contes des anciens ,bretons 7,paris1 #ahei71 pp4 #bj et seq4 ,in the ,contes populaires des anciens ,bretons1 of which the above may be considered as a new edition1 the learned author had somewhat exaggerated the influence of ,french ,brittany4 ,in the present article1 when first published1 ,i had1 on the other hand1 depreciated it too much4 prove1 on the other hand1 that these same traditions produced a true poetic cycle in ,brittany1 and even that at certain epochs they must have recrossed the ,channel1 as though to give new life to the mother country's memories4 ,the fact that ,gauthier ,calenius1 ,archdeacon of ,oxford1 brought back from ,brittany to ,england 7about #aabe7 the very text of the legends which were translated into ,latin ten years afterwards by ,geoffrey of ,monmouth is here decisive4 ,i know that to readers of the ,mabinogion such an opinion will appear surprising at a first glance1 ,all is ,welsh in these fables1 the places1 the genealogies1 the customs2 in them ,armorica is only represented by ,hoel1 an important personage no doubt1 but one who has not achieved the fame of the other heroes of ,arthur's court4 ,again1 if ,armorica saw the birth of the ,arthurian cycle1 how is it that we fail to find there any traces of that brilliant nativity8 ,footnote3 ,m4 de la ,villemarque makes appeal to the popular songs still extant in ,brittany1 in which ,arthur's deeds are celebrated4 ,in fact1 in his ,chants populaires de la ,bretagne two poems are to be found in which that hero's name figures4 ,these objections1 ,i avow1 long barred my way1 but ,i no longer find them insoluble4 ,and first of all there is a class of ,mabinogion1 including those of ,owen1 ,geraint1 and ,peredur1 stories which possess no very precise geographical localisation4 ,in the second place1 national written literature being less successfully defended in ,brittany than in ,wales against the invasion of foreign culture1 it may be conceived that the memory of the old epics should be there more obliterated4 ,the literary share of the two countries thus remains sufficiently distinct4 ,the glory of ,french ,brittany is in her popular songs2 but it is only in ,wales that the genius of the ,breton people has succeeded in establishing itself in authentic books and achieved creations4 ,,iv4 ,in comparing the ,breton cycle as the ,french trouveres knew it1 and the same cycle as it is to be found in the text of the ,mabinogion1 one might be tempted to believe that the ,european imagination1 enthralled by these brilliant fables1 added to them some poetical themes unknown to the ,welsh4 ,two of the most celebrated heroes of the continental ,breton romances1 ,lancelot and ,tristan1 do not figure in the ,mabinogion2 on the other hand1 the characteristics of the ,holy ,grail are presented in a totally different way from that which we find in the ,french and ,german poets4 ,a more attentive study shows that these elements1 apparently added by the ,french poets1 are in reality of ,cymric origin4 ,and first of all1 ,m4 de la ,villemarque has demonstrated to perfection that the name of ,lancelot is only a translation of that of the ,welsh hero ,mael1 who in point of fact exhibits the fullest analogy with the ,lancelot of the ,french romances4 ,footnote3 ,ancelot is the diminutive of ,ancel1 and means servant1 page1 or esquire4 ,to this day in the ,cymric dialects ,mael has the same signification4 ,the surname of ,poursigant1 which we find borne by some ,welshmen in the ,french service in the early part of the fourteenth century1 is also no doubt a translation of ,mael4 ,the context1 the proper names1 all the details of the romance of ,lancelot also present the most pronounced ,breton aspect4 ,as much must be said of the romance of ,tristan4 ,it is even to be hoped that this curious legend will be discovered complete in some ,welsh manuscript4 ,dr4 ,owen states that he has seen one of which he was unable to obtain a copy4 ,as to the ,holy ,grail1 it must be avowed that the mystic cup1 the object after which the ,french ,parceval and the ,german ,parsifal go in search1 has not nearly the same importance among the ,welsh4 ,in the romance of ,peredur it only figures in an episodical fashion1 and without a well-defined religious intention4 ,then ,peredur and his uncle discoursed together1 and he beheld two youths enter the hall1 and proceed up to the chamber1 bearing a spear of mighty size1 with three streams of blood flowing from the point to the ground4 ,and when all the company saw this1 they began wailing and lamenting4 ,but for all that1 the man did not break off his discourse with ,peredur4 ,and as he did not tell ,peredur the meaning of what he saw1 he forbore to ask him concerning it4 ,and when the clamour had a little subsided1 behold two maidens entered1 with a large salver between them1 in which was a man's head1 surrounded by a profusion of blood4 ,and thereupon the company of the court made so great an outcry1 that it was irksome to be in the same hall with them4 ,but at length they were silent4 ,this strange and wondrous circumstance remains an enigma to the end of the narrative4 ,then a mysterious young man appears to ,peredur1 apprises him that the lance from which the blood was dropping is that with which his uncle was wounded1 that the vessel contains the blood and the head of one of his cousins1 slain by the witches of ,kerloiou1 and that it is predestined that he1 ,peredur1 should be their avenger4 ,in point of fact1 ,peredur goes and convokes the ,round ,table2 ,arthur and his knights come and put the witches of ,kerloiou to death4 ,if we now pass to the ,french romance of ,parceval1 we find that all this phantasmagoria clothes a very different significance4 ,the lance is that with which ,longus pierced ,christ's side1 the ,grail or basin is that in which ,joseph of ,arimathea caught the divine blood4 ,this miraculous vase procures all the good things of heaven and earth2 it heals wounds1 and is filled at the owner's pleasure with the most exquisite food4 ,to approach it one must be in a state of grace2 only a priest can tell of its marvels4 ,to find these sacred relics after the passage of a thousand trials1--such is the object of ,peredur's chivalry1 at once worldly and mystical4 ,in the end he becomes a priest2 he takes the ,grail and the lance into his hermitage2 on the day of his death an angel bears them up to ,heaven4 ,let us add that many traits prove that in the mind of the ,french trouvere the ,grail is confounded with the eucharist4 ,in the miniatures which occasionally accompany the romance of ,parceval1 the ,grail is in the form of a pyx1 appearing at all the solemn moments of the poem as a miraculous source of succour4 ,is this strange myth1 differing as it does from the simple narrative presented in the ,welsh legend of ,peredur1 really ,cymric1 or ought we rather to see in it an original creation of the trouveres1 based upon a ,breton foundation8 ,with ,m4 de la ,villemarque we believe that this curious fable is essentially ,cymric4 ,footnote3 ,see the excellent discussion of this interesting problem in the introduction to ,contes populaires des anciens ,bretons 7pp4 #aha et seq474 ,in the eighth century a ,breton hermit had a vision of ,joseph of ,arimathea bearing the chalice of the ,last ,supper1 and wrote the history called the ,gradal4 ,the whole ,celtic mythology is full of the marvels of a magic caldron under which nine fairies blow silently1 a mysterious vase which inspires poetic genius1 gives wisdom1 reveals the future1 and unveils the secrets of the world4 ,one day as ,bran the ,blessed was hunting in ,ireland upon the shore of a lake1 he saw come forth from it a black man bearing upon his back an enormous caldron1 followed by a witch and a dwarf4 ,this caldron was the instrument of the supernatural power of a family of giants4 ,it cured all ills1 and gave back life to the dead1 but without restoring to them the use of speech--an allusion to the secret of the bardic initiation4 ,in the same way ,perceval's wariness forms the whole plot of the quest of the ,holy ,grail4 ,the ,grail thus appears to us in its primitive meaning as the pass-word of a kind of free-masonry which survived in ,wales long after the preaching of the ,gospel1 and of which we find deep traces in the legend of ,taliessin4 ,christianity grafted its legend upon the mythological data1 and a like transformation was doubtless made by the ,cymric race itself4 ,if the ,welsh narrative of ,peredur does not offer the same developments as the ,french romance of ,parceval1 it is because the ,red ,book of ,hergest gives us an earlier version than that which served as a model for ,chretien de ,troyes4 ,it is also to be remarked that1 even in ,parceval1 the mystical idea is not as yet completely developed1 that the trouvere seems to treat this strange theme as a narrative which he has found already complete1 and the meaning of which he can scarcely guess4 ,the motive that sets ,parceval a-field in the ,french romance1 as well as in the ,welsh version1 is a family motive2 he seeks the ,holy ,grail as a talisman to cure his uncle the ,fisherman- ,king1 in such a way that the religious idea is still subordinated to the profane intention4 ,in the ,german version1 on the other hand1 full as it is of mysticism and theology1 the ,grail has a temple and priests4 ,parsifal1 who has become a purely ecclesiastical hero1 reaches the dignity of ,king of the ,grail by his religious enthusiasm and his chastity4 ,footnote3 ,it is indeed remarkable that all the ,breton heroes in their last transformation are at once gallant and devout4 ,one of the most celebrated ladies of ,arthur's court1 ,luned1 becomes a saint and a martyr for her chastity1 her festival being celebrated on ,august #ast4 ,she it is who figures in the ,french romances under the name of ,lunette4 ,see ,lady ,guest1 vol4 i41 pp4 #aac1 #aad4 ,finally1 the prose versions1 more modern still1 sharply distinguish the two chivalries1 the one earthly1 the other mystical4 ,in them ,parceval becomes the model of the devout knight4 ,this was the last of the metamorphoses which that all-powerful enchantress called the human imagination made him undergo2 and it was only right that1 after having gone through so many dangers1 he should don a monkish frock1 wherein to take his rest after his life of adventure4 ,v4 ,when we seek to determine the precise moment in the history of the ,celtic races at which we ought to place ourselves in order to appreciate their genius in its entirety1 we find ourselves led back to the sixth century of our era4 ,races have nearly always a predestined hour at which1 passing from simplicity to reflection1 they bring forth to the light of day1 for the first time1 all the treasures of their nature4 ,for the ,celtic races the poetic moment of awakening and primal activity was the sixth century4 ,christianity1 still young amongst them1 has not completely stifled the national cult2 the religion of the ,druids defends itself in its schools and holy places2 warfare against the foreigner1 without which a people never achieves a full consciousness of itself1 attains its highest degree of spirit4 ,it is the epoch of all the heroes of enduring fame1 of all the characteristic saints of the ,breton ,church2 finally1 it is the great age of bardic literature1 illustrious by the names of ,taliessin1 of ,aneurin1 of ,liwarc'h ,hen4 ,to such as would view critically the historical use of these half- fabulous names and would hesitate to accept as authentic1 poems that have come down to us through so long a series of ages1 we reply that the objections raised to the antiquity of the bardic literature-- objections of which ,w4 ,schlegel made himself the interpreter in opposition to ,m4 ,fauriel--have completely disappeared under the investigations of an enlightened and impartial criticism4 ,footnote3 ,this evidently does not apply to the language of the poems in question4 ,it is well known that mediaeval scribes1 alien as they were to all ideas of archaeology1 modernised the texts1 in measure as they copied them2 and that a manuscript in the vulgar tongue1 as a rule1 only attests the language of him who transcribed it4 ,by a rare exception sceptical opinion has for once been found in the wrong4 ,the sixth century is in fact for the ,breton peoples a perfectly historical century4 ,we touch this epoch of their history as closely and with as much certainty as ,greek or ,roman antiquity4 ,it is indeed known that1 up to a somewhat late period1 the bards continued to compose pieces under the names--which had become popular--of ,aneurin1 ,taliessin1 and ,liwarc'h ,hen2 but no confusion can be made between these insipid rhetorical exercises and the really ancient fragments which bear the names of the poets cited-- fragments full of personal traits1 local circumstances1 and individual passions and feelings4 ,such is the literature of which ,m4 de la ,villemarque has attempted to unite the most ancient and authentic monuments in his ,breton ,bards of the ,sixth ,century4 ,wales has recognised the service that our learned compatriot has thus rendered to ,celtic studies4 ,we confess1 however1 to much preferring to the ,bards the ,popular ,songs of ,brittany4 ,it is in the latter that ,m4 de la ,villemarque has best served ,celtic studies1 by revealing to us a delightful literature1 in which1 more clearly than anywhere else1 are apparent these features of gentleness1 fidelity1 resignation1 and timid reserve which form the character of the ,breton peoples4 ,footnote3 ,this interesting collection ought not1 however1 to be accepted unreservedly2 and the absolute confidence with which it has been quoted is not without its inconveniences4 ,we believe that when ,m4 de la ,villemarque comments on the fragments which1 to his eternal honour1 he has been the first to bring to light1 his criticism is far from being proof against all reproach1 and that several of the historical allusions which he considers that he finds in them are hypotheses more ingenious than solid4 ,the past is too great1 and has come down to us in too fragmentary a manner1 for such coincidences to be probable4 ,popular celebrities are rarely those of history1 and when the rumours of distant centuries come to us by two channels1 one popular1 the other historical1 it is a rare thing for these two forms of tradition to be fully in accord with one another4 ,m4 de la ,villemarque is also too ready to suppose that the people repeats for centuries songs that it only half understands4 ,when a song ceases to be intelligible1 it is nearly always altered by the people1 with the end of approximating it to the sounds farmliar and significant to their ears4 ,is it not also to be feared that in this case the editor1 in entire good faith1 may lend some slight inflection to the text1 so as to find in it the sense that he desires1 or has in his mind8 ,the theme of the poetry of the bards of the sixth century is simple and exclusively heroic2 it ever deals with the great motives of patriotism and glory4 ,there is a total absence of all tender feeling1 no trace of love1 no well-marked religious idea1 but only a vague and naturalistic mysticism1--a survival of ,druidic teaching1-- and a moral philosophy wholly expressed in ,triads1 similar to that taught in the half-bardic1 half-,christian schools of ,st4 ,cadoc and ,st4 ,iltud4 ,the singularly artificial and highly wrought form of the style suggests the existence of a system of learned instruction possessing long traditions4 ,a more pronounced shade1 and there would be a danger of falling into a pedantic and mannered rhetoric4 ,the bardic literature1 by its lengthened existence through the whole of the ,middle ,ages1 did not escape this danger4 ,it ended by being no more than a somewhat insipid collection of unoriginalities in style1 and conventional metaphors4 ,footnote3 ,a ,welsh scholar1 ,mr4 ,stephens1 in his ,history of ,cymric ,literature 7,llandovery1 #ahdi71 has demonstrated these successive transformations very well4 ,the opposition between bardism and ,christianity reveals itself in the pieces translated by ,m4 de la ,villemarque by many features of original and pathetic interest4 ,the strife which rent the soul of the old poets1 their antipathy to the grey men of the monastery1 their sad and painful conversion1 are to be found in their songs4 ,the sweetness and tenacity of the ,breton character can alone explain how a heterodoxy so openly avowed as this maintained its position in face of the dominant ,christianity1 and how holy men1 ,kolumkill for example1 took upon themselves the defence of the bards against the kings who desired to stamp them out4 ,the strife was the longer in its duration1 in that ,christianity among the ,celtic peoples never employed force against rival religions1 and1 at the worst1 left to the vanquished the liberty of ill humour4 ,belief in prophets1 indestructible among these peoples1 created1 in despite of faith the ,anti-,christian type of ,merlin1 and caused his acceptance by the whole of ,europe4 ,gildas and the orthodox ,bretons were ceaseless in their thunderings against the prophets1 and opposed to them ,elias and ,samuel1 two bards who only foretold good2 even in the twelfth century ,giraldus ,cambrensis saw a prophet in the town of ,caerleon4 ,thanks to this toleration bardism lasted into the heart of the ,middle ,ages1 under the form of a secret doctrine1 with a conventional language1 and symbols almost wholly borrowed from the solar divinity of ,arthur4 ,this may be termed ,neo-,druidism1 a kind of ,druidism subtilised and reformed on the model of ,christianity1 which may be seen growing more and more obscure and mysterious1 until the moment of its total disappearance4 ,a curious fragment belonging to this school1 the dialogue between ,arthur and ,eliwlod1 has transmitted to us the latest sighs of this latest protestation of expiring naturalism4 ,under the form of an eagle ,eliwlod introduces the divinity to the sentiment of resignation1 of subjection1 and of humility1 with which ,christianity combated pagan pride4 ,hero-worship recoils step by step before the great formula1 which ,christianity ceases not to repeat to the ,celtic races to sever them from their memories3 ,there is none greater than ,god4 ,arthur allows himself to be persuaded to abdicate from his divinity1 and ends by reciting the ,pater4 ,i know of no more curious spectacle than this revolt of the manly sentiments of hero-worship against the feminine feeling which flowed so largely into the new faith4 ,what1 in fact1 exasperates the old representatives of ,celtic society are the exclusive triumph of the pacific spirit and the men1 clad in linen and chanting psalms1 whose voice is sad1 who preach asceticism1 and know the heroes no more4 ,footnote3 ,the antipathy to ,christianity attributed by the ,armorican people to the dwarfs and korigans belongs in like measure to traditions of the opposition encountered by the ,gospel in its beginnings4 ,the korigans in fact are1 for the ,breton peasant1 great princesses who would not accept ,christianity when the apostles came to ,brittany4 ,they hate the clergy and the churches1 the bells of which make them take to flight4 ,the ,virgin above all is their great enemy2 she it is who has hounded them forth from their fountains1 and on ,saturday1 the day consecrated to her1 whosoever beholds them combing their hair or counting their treasures is sure to perish4 7,villemarque1 ,chants populaires1 ,introduction47 ,we know the use that ,ireland has made of this theme1 in the dialogues which she loves to imagine between the representatives of her profane and religious life1 ,ossian and ,st4 ,patrick4 ,footnote3 ,see ,miss ,brooke's ,reliques of ,irish ,poetry1 ,dublin1 #aghi1 pp4 #cg et seq41 ,,pp4 #ge et seq4 ,ossian regrets the adventures1 the chase1 the blast of the horn1 and the kings of old time4 ,if they were here1 he says to ,st4 ,patrick1 thou should'st not thus be scouring the country with the psalm-singing flock4 ,patrick seeks to calm him by soft words1 and sometimes carries his condescension so far as to listen to his long histories1 which appear to interest the saint but slightly4 ,thou hast heard my story1 says the old bard in conclusion2 albeit my memory groweth weak1 and ,i am devoured with care1 yet ,i desire to continue still to sing the deeds of yore1 and to live upon ancient glories4 ,now am ,i stricken with years1 my life is frozen within me1 and all my joys are fleeting away4 ,no more can my hand grasp the sword1 nor mine arm hold the lance in rest4 ,among priests my last sad hour lengtheneth out1 and psalms take now the place of songs of victory4 ,let thy songs rest1 says ,patrick1 and dare not to compare thy ,finn to the ,king of ,kings1 whose might knoweth no bounds3 bend thy knees before ,him1 and know ,him for thy ,lord4 ,it was indeed necessary to surrender1 and the legend relates how the old bard ended his days in the cloister1 among the priests whom he had so often used rudely1 in the midst of these chants that he knew not4 ,ossian was too good an ,irishman for any one to make up his mind to damn him utterly4 ,merlin himself had to cede to the new spell4 ,he was1 it is said1 converted by ,st4 ,columba2 and the popular voice in the ballads repeats to him unceasingly this sweet and touching appeal3 ,merlin1 ,merlin1 be converted2 there is no divinity save that of ,god4 ,,vi4 ,we should form an altogether inadequate idea of the physiognomy of the ,celtic races1 were we not to study them under what is perhaps the most singular aspect of their development--that is to say1 their ecclesiastical antiquities and their saints4 ,leaving on one side the temporary repulsion which ,christian mildness had to conquer in the classes of society which saw their influence diminished by the new order of things1 it can be truly said1 that the gentleness of manners and the exquisite sensibility of the ,celtic races1 in conjunction with the absence of a formerly existing religion of strong organisation1 predestined them to ,christianity4 ,christianity in fact1 addressing itself by preference to the more humble feelings in human nature1 met here with admirably prepared disciples2 no race has so delicately understood the charm of littleness1 none has placed the simple creature1 the innocent1 nearer ,god4 ,the ease with which the new religion took possession of these peoples is also remarkable4 ,brittany and ,ireland between them scarce count two or three martyrs2 they are reduced to venerating as such those of their compatriots who were slain in the ,anglo-,saxon and ,danish invasions4 ,here comes to light the profound difference dividing the ,celtic from the ,teutonic race4 ,the ,teutons only received ,christianity tardily and in spite of themselves1 by scheming or by force1 after a sanguinary resistance1 and with terrible throes1 ,christianity was in fact on several sides repugnant to their nature2 and one understands the regrets of pure ,teutonists who1 to this day1 reproach the new faith with having corrupted their sturdy ancestors4 ,such was not the case with the ,celtic peoples2 that gentle little race was naturally ,christian4 ,far from changing them1 and taking away some of their qualities1 ,christianity finished and perfected them4 ,compare the legends relating to the introduction of ,christianity into the two countries1 the ,kristni ,saga for instance1 and the delightful legends of ,lucius and ,st4 ,patrick4 ,what a difference we find6 ,in ,iceland the first apostles are pirates1 converted by some chance1 now saying mass1 now massacring their enemies1 now resuming their former profession of sea-rovers2 everything is done in accord with expediency1 and without any serious faith4 ,in ,ireland and ,brittany grace operates through women1 by ,i know not what charm of purity and sweetness4 ,the revolt of the ,teutons was never effectually stifled2 never did they forget the forced baptisms1 and the sword-supported ,carlovingian missionaries1 until the day when ,teutonism took its revenge1 and ,luther through seven centuries gave answer to ,witikind4 ,on the other hand1 the ,celts were1 even in the third century1 perfect ,christians4 ,to the ,teutons ,christianity was for long nothing but a ,roman institution1 imposed from without4 ,they entered the ,church only to trouble it2 and it was not without very great difficulty that they succeeded in forming a national clergy4 ,to the ,celts1 on the contrary1 ,christianity did not come from ,rome2 they had their native clergy1 their own peculiar usages1 their faith at first hand4 ,it cannot1 in fact1 be doubted that in apostolic times ,christianity was preached in ,brittany2 and several historians1 not without justification1 have considered that it was borne there by ,judaistic ,christians1 or by disciples of the school of ,st4 ,john4 ,everywhere else ,christianity found1 as a first substratum1 ,greek or ,roman civilisation4 ,here it found a virgin soil of a nature analogous to its own1 and naturally prepared to receive it4 ,few forms of ,christianity have offered an ideal of ,christian perfection so pure as the ,celtic ,church of the sixth1 seventh1 and eighth centuries4 ,nowhere1 perhaps1 has ,god been better worshipped in spirit than in those great monastic communities of ,hy1 or of ,iona1 of ,bangor1 of ,clonard1 or of ,lindisfarne4 ,one of the most distinguished developments of ,christianity--doubtless too distinguished for the popular and practical mission which the ,church had to undertake--,pelagianism1 arose from it4 ,the true and refined morality1 the simplicity1 and the wealth of invention which give distinction to the legends of the ,breton and ,irish saints are indeed admirable4 ,no race adopted ,christianity with so much originality1 or1 while subjecting itself to the common faith1 kept its national characteristics more persistently4 ,in religion1 as in all else1 the ,bretons sought isolation1 and did not willingly fraternise with the rest of the world4 ,strong in their moral superiority1 persuaded that they possessed the veritable canon of faith and religion1 having received their ,christianity from an apostolic and wholly primitive preaching1 they experienced no need of feeling themselves in communion with ,christian societies less noble than their own4 ,thence arose that long struggle of the ,breton churches against ,roman pretensions1 which is so admirably narrated by ,m4 ,augustin ,thierry1 ,footnote3 ,in his ,history of the ,conquest4 ,the objections raised by ,m4 ,varin and some other scholars to ,m4 ,thierry's narrative only affect some secondary details1 which were rectified in the edition published after the illustrious historian's death4 thence those inflexible characters of ,columba and the monks of ,iona1 defending their usages and institutions against the whole ,church1 thence finally the false position of the ,celtic peoples in ,catholicism1 when that mighty force1 grown more and more aggressive1 had drawn them together from all quarters1 and compelled their absorption in itself4 ,having no ,catholic past1 they found themselves unclassed on their entrance into the great family1 and were never able to succeed in creating for themselves an ,archbishopric4 ,all their efforts and all their innocent deceits to attribute that title to the ,churches of ,dol and ,st4 ,davids were wrecked on the overwhelming divergence of their past2 their bishops had to resign themselves to being obscure suffragans of ,tours and ,canterbury4 ,it remains to be said that1 even in our own days1 the powerful originality of ,celtic ,christianity is far from being effaced4 ,the ,bretons of ,france1 although they have felt the consequences of the revolutions undergone by ,catholicism on the ,continent1 are1 at the present hour1 one of the populations in which religious feeling has retained most independence4 ,the new devotions find no favour with it2 the people are faithful to the old beliefs and the old saints2 the psalms of religion have for them an ineffable harmony4 ,in the same way1 ,ireland keeps1 in her more remote districts1 quite unique forms of worship from those of the rest of the world1 to which nothing in other parts of ,christendom can be compared4 ,the influence of modern ,catholicism1 elsewhere so destructive of national usages1 has had here a wholly contrary effect1 the clergy having found it incumbent on them to seek a vantage ground against ,protestantism1 in attachment to local practices and the customs of the past4 ,it is the picture of these ,christian institutions1 quite distinct from those of the remainder of the ,west1 of this sometimes strange worship1 of these legends of the saints marked with so distinct a seal of nationality1 that lends an interest to the ecclesiastical antiquities of ,ireland1 of ,wales1 and of ,armorican ,brittany4 ,no hagiology has remained more exclusively natural than that of the ,celtic peoples2 until the twelfth century those peoples admitted very few alien saints into their martyrology4 ,none1 too1 includes so many naturalistic elements4 ,celtic ,paganism offered so little resistance to the new religion1 that the ,church did not hold itself constrained to put in force against it the rigour with which elsewhere it pursued the slightest traces of mythology4 ,the conscientious essay by ,w4 ,rees on the ,saints of ,wales1 and that by the ,rev4 ,john ,williams1 an extremely learned ecclesiastic of the diocese of ,st4 ,asaph1 on the ,ecclesiastical ,antiquities of the ,cymry1 suffice to make one understand the immense value which a complete and intelligent history of the ,celtic ,churches1 before their absorption in the ,roman ,church1 would possess4 ,to these might be added the learned work of ,dom ,lobineau on the ,saints of ,brittany1 re-issued in our days by the ,abbe ,tresvaux1 had not the half- criticism of the ,benedictine1 much worse than a total absence of criticism1 altered those naive legends and cut away from them1 under the pretext of good sense and religious reverence1 that which to us gives them interest and charm4 ,ireland above all would offer a religious physiognomy quite peculiar to itself1 which would appear singularly original1 were history in a position to reveal it in its entirety4 ,when we consider the legions of ,irish saints who in the sixth1 seventh1 and eighth centuries inundated the ,continent and arrived from their isle bearing with them their stubborn spirit1 their attachment to their own usages1 their subtle and realistic turn of mind1 and see the ,scots 7such was the name given to the ,irish7 doing duty1 until the twelfth century1 as instructors in grammar and literature to all the ,west1 we cannot doubt that ,ireland1 in the first half of the ,middle ,ages1 was the scene of a singular religious movement4 ,studious philologists and daring philosophers1 the ,hibernian monks were above all indefatigable copyists2 and it was in part owing to them that the work of the pen became a holy task4 ,columba1 secretly warned that his last hour is at hand1 finishes the page of the psalter which he has commenced1 writes at the foot that he bequeaths the continuation to his successor1 and then goes into the church to die4 ,nowhere was monastic life to find such docile subjects4 ,credulous as a child1 timid1 indolent1 inclined to submit and obey1 the ,irishman alone was capable of lending himself to that complete self-abdication in the hands of the abbot1 which we find so deeply marked in the historical and legendary memorials of the ,irish ,church4 ,one easily recognises the land where1 in our own days1 the priest1 without provoking the slightest scandal1 can1 on a ,sunday before quitting the altar1 give the orders for his dinner in a very audible manner1 and announce the farm where he intends to go and dine1 and where he will hear his flock in confession4 ,in the presence of a people which lived by imagination and the senses alone1 the ,church did not consider itself under the necessity of dealing severely with the caprices of religious fantasy4 ,it permitted the free action of the popular instinct2 and from this freedom emerged what is perhaps of all cults the most mythological and most analogous to the mysteries of antiquity1 presented in ,christian annals1 a cult attached to certain places1 and almost exclusively consisting in certain acts held to be sacramental4 ,without contradiction the legend of ,st4 ,brandan is the most singular product of this combination of ,celtic naturalism with ,christian spiritualism4 ,the taste of the ,hibernian monks for making maritime pilgrimages through the archipelago of the ,scottish and ,irish seas1 everywhere dotted with monasteries1 ,footnote3 ,the ,irish saints literally covered the ,western seas4 ,a very considerable number of the saints of ,brittany1 ,st4 ,tenenan1 ,st4 ,renan1 etc41 were emigrants from ,ireland4 ,the ,breton legends of ,st4 ,malo1 ,st4 ,david1 and of ,st4 ,pol of ,leon are replete with similar stories of voyages to the distant isles of the ,west4 and the memory of yet more distant voyages in ,polar seas1 furnished the framework of this curious composition1 so rich in local impressions4 ,from ,pliny 7,,iv4 xxx4 #c7 we learn that1 even in his time1 the ,bretons loved to venture their lives upon the high seas1 in search of unknown isles4 ,m4 ,letronne has proved that in #gie1 sixty-five years consequently before the ,danes1 ,irish monks landed in ,iceland and established themselves on the coast4 ,in this island the ,danes found ,irish books and bells2 and the names of certain localities still bear witness to the sojourn of those monks1 who were known by the name of ,papae 7fathers74 ,in the ,faroe ,isles1 in the ,orkneys1 and the ,shetlands1 indeed in all parts of the ,northern seas1 the ,scandinavians found themselves preceded by those ,papas1 whose habits contrasted so strangely with their own4 ,footnote3 ,on this point see the careful researches of ,humboldt in his ,history of the ,geography of the ,new ,continent1 vol4 ii4 ,did they not have a glimpse too of that great land1 the vague memory of which seems to pursue them1 and which ,columbus was to discover1 following the traces of their dreams8 ,it is only known that the existence of an island1 traversed by a great river and situated to the west of ,ireland1 was1 on the faith of the ,irish1 a dogma for mediaeval geographers4 ,the story went that1 towards the middle of the sixth century1 a monk called ,barontus1 on his return from voyaging upon the sea1 came and craved hospitality at the monastery of ,clonfert4 ,brandan the abbot besought him to give pleasure to the brothers by narrating the marvels of ,god that he had seen on the high seas4 ,barontus revealed to them the existence of an island surrounded by fogs1 where he had left his disciple ,mernoc2 it is the ,land of ,promise that ,god keeps for his saints4 ,brandan with seventeen of his monks desired to go in quest of this mysterious land4 ,they set forth in a leather boat1 bearing with them as their sole provision a utensil of butter1 wherewith to grease the hides of their craft4 ,for seven years they lived thus in their boat1 abandoning to ,god sail and rudder1 and only stopping on their course to celebrate the feasts of ,christmas and ,easter on the back of the king of fishes1 ,jasconius4 ,every step of this monastic ,odyssey is a miracle1 on every isle is a monastery1 where the wonders of a fantastical universe respond to the extravagances of a wholly ideal life4 ,here is the ,isle of ,sheep1 where these animals govern themselves according to their own laws2 elsewhere the ,paradise of ,birds1 where the winged race lives after the fashion of monks1 singing matins and lauds at the canonical hours4 ,brandan and his companions celebrate mass here with the birds1 and remain with them for fifty days1 nourishing themselves with nothing but the singing of their hosts4 ,elsewhere there is the ,isle of ,delight1 the ideal of monastic life in the midst of the seas4 ,here no material necessity makes itself felt2 the lamps light of themselves for the offices of religion1 and never burn out1 for they shine with a spiritual light4 ,an absolute stillness reigns in the island2 every one knows precisely the hour of his death2 one feels neither cold1 nor heat1 nor sadness1 nor sickness of body or soul4 ,all this has endured since the days of ,st4 ,patrick1 who so ordained it4 ,the ,land of ,promise is more marvellous still2 there an eternal day reigns2 all the plants have flowers1 all the trees bear fruits4 ,some privileged men alone have visited it4 ,on their return a perfume is perceived to come from them1 which their garments keep for forty days4 ,in the midst of these dreams there appears with a surprising fidelity to truth the feeling for the picturesque in ,polar voyages1- -the transparency of the sea1 the aspect of bergs and islands of ice melting in the sun1 the volcanic phenomena of ,iceland1 the sporting of whales1 the characteristic appearance of the ,norwegian fiords1 the sudden fogs1 the sea calm as milk1 the green isles crowned with grass which grows down to the very verge of the waves4 ,this fantastical nature created expressly for another humanity1 this strange topography at once glowing with fiction and speaking of truth1 make the poem of ,st4 ,brandan one of the most extraordinary creations of the human mind1 and perhaps the completest expression of the ,celtic ideal4 ,all is lovely1 pure1 and innocent2 never has a gaze so benevolent and so gentle been cast upon the earth2 there is not a single cruel idea1 not a trace of frailty or repentance4 ,it is the world seen through the crystal of a stainless conscience1 one might almost say a human nature1 as ,pelagius wished it1 that has never sinned4 ,the very animals participate in this universal mildness4 ,evil appears under the form of monsters wandering on the deep1 or of ,cyclops confined in volcanic islands2 but ,god causes them to destroy one another1 and does not permit them to do hurt to the good4 ,we have just seen how1 around the legend of a monk the ,irish imagination grouped a whole cycle of physical and maritime myths4 ,the ,purgatory of ,st4 ,patrick became the framework of another series of fables1 embodying the ,celtic ideas concerning the other life and its different conditions4 ,footnote3 ,see ,thomas ,wright's excellent dissertation1 ,saint ,patrick's ,purgatory 7,london1 #ahdd71 and ,calderon's ,the ,well of ,saint ,patrick4 ,perhaps the profoundest instinct of the ,celtic peoples is their desire to penetrate the unknown4 ,with the sea before them1 they wish to know what lies beyond2 they dream of a ,promised ,land4 ,in the face of the unknown that lies beyond the tomb1 they dream of that great journey which the pen of ,dante has celebrated4 ,the legend tells how1 while ,st4 ,patrick was preaching about ,paradise and ,hell to the ,irish1 they confessed that they would feel more assured of the reality of these places1 if he would allow one of them to descend there1 and then come back with information ,st4 ,patrick consented4 ,a pit was dug1 by which an ,irishman set out upon the subterranean journey4 ,others wished to attempt the journey after him4 ,with the consent of the abbot of the neighbouring monastery1 they descended into the shaft1 they passed through the torments of ,hell and ,purgatory1 and then each told of what he had seen4 ,some did not emerge again2 those who did laughed no more1 and were henceforth unable to join in any gaiety4 ,knight ,owen made a descent in #aaec1 and gave a narrative of his travels which had a prodigious success4 ,other legends related that when ,st4 ,patrick drove the goblins out of ,ireland1 he was greatly tormented in this place for forty days by legions of black birds4 ,the ,irish betook themselves to the spot1 and experienced the same assaults which gave them an immunity from ,purgatory4 ,according to the narrative of ,giraldus ,cambrensis1 the isle which served as the theatre of this strange superstition was divided into two parts4 ,one belonged to the monks1 the other was occupied by evil spirits1 who celebrated religious rites in their own manner1 with an infernal uproar4 ,some people1 for the expiation of their sins1 voluntarily exposed themselves to the fury of those demons4 ,there were nine ditches in which they lay for a night1 tormented in a thousand different ways4 ,to make the descent it was necessary to obtain the permission of the bishop4 ,his duty it was to dissuade the penitent from attempting the adventure1 and to point out to him how many people had gone in who had never come out again4 ,if the devotee persisted1 he was ceremoniously conducted to the shaft4 ,he was lowered down by means of a rope1 with a loaf and a vessel of water to strengthen him in the combat against the fiend which he proposed to wage4 ,on the following morning the sacristan offered the rope anew to the sufferer4 ,if he mounted to the surface again1 they brought him back to the church1 bearing the cross and chanting psalms4 ,if he were not to be found1 the sacristan closed the door and departed4 ,in more modern times pilgrims to the sacred isles spent nine days there4 ,they passed over to them in a boat hollowed out of the trunk of a tree4 ,once a day they drank of the water of the lake2 processions and stations were performed in the beds or cells of the saints4 ,upon the ninth day the penitents entered into the shaft4 ,sermons were preached to them warning them of the danger they were about to run1 and they were told of terrible examples4 ,they forgave their enemies and took farewell of one another1 as though they were at their last agony4 ,according to contemporary accounts1 the shaft was a low and narrow kiln1 into which nine entered at a time1 and in which the penitents passed a day and a night1 huddled and tightly pressed against one another4 ,popular belief imagined an abyss underneath1 to swallow up the unworthy and the unbelieving4 ,on emerging from the pit they went and bathed in the lake1 and so their ,purgatory was accomplished4 ,it would appear from the accounts of eye-witnesses that1 to this day1 things happen very nearly after the same fashion4 ,the immense reputation of the ,purgatory of ,st4 ,patrick filled the whole of the ,middle ,ages4 ,preachers made appeal to the public notoriety of this great fact1 to controvert those who had their doubts regarding ,purgatory4 ,in the year #aceh ,edward ,,iii4 gave to a ,hungarian of noble birth1 who had come from ,hungary expressly to visit the sacred well1 letters patent attesting that he had undergone his ,purgatory4 ,narratives of those travels beyond the tomb became a very fashionable form of literature2 and it is important for us to remark the wholly mythological1 and as wholly ,celtic1 characteristics dominant in them4 ,it is in fact evident that we are dealing with a mystery or local cult1 anterior to ,christianity1 and probably based upon the physical appearance of the country4 ,the idea of ,purgatory1 in its final and concrete form1 fared specially well amongst the ,bretons and the ,irish4 ,bede is one of the first to speak of it in a descriptive manner1 and the learned ,mr4 ,wright very justly observes that nearly all the descriptions of ,purgatory come from ,irishmen1 or from ,anglo-,saxons who have resided in ,ireland1 such as ,st4 ,fursey1 ,tundale1 the ,northumbrian ,dryhthelm1 and ,knight ,owen4 ,it is likewise a remarkable thing that only the ,irish were able to behold the marvels of their ,purgatory4 ,a canon from ,hemstede in ,holland1 who descended in #adid1 saw nothing at all4 ,evidently this idea of travels in the other world and its infernal categories1 as the ,middle ,ages accepted it1 is ,celtic4 ,the belief in the three circles of existence is again to be found in the ,triads1 ,footnote3 ,a series of aphorisms under the form of triplets1 which give us1 with numerous interpolations1 the ancient teaching of the bards1 and that traditional wisdom which1 according to the testimony of the ancients1 was transmitted by means of mnemonic verses in the schools of the ,druids4 under an aspect which does not permit one to see any ,christian interpolation4 ,the soul's peregrinations after death are also the favourite theme of the most ancient ,armorican poetry4 ,among the features by which the ,celtic races most impressed the ,romans were the precision of their ideas upon the future life1 their inclination to suicide1 and the loans and contracts which they signed with the other world in view4 ,the more frivolous peoples of the ,south saw with awe in this assurance the fact of a mysterious race1 having an understanding of the future and the secret of death4 ,through the whole of classical antiquity runs the tradition of an ,isle of ,shadows1 situated on the confines of ,brittany1 and of a folk devoted to the passage of souls1 which lives upon the neighbouring coast4 ,in the night they hear dead men prowling about their cabin1 and knocking at the door4 ,then they rise up2 their craft is laden with invisible beings2 on their return it is lighter4 ,several of these features reproduced by ,plutarch1 ,claudian1 ,procopius1 ,footnote3 ,a ,byzantine historian of the fifth and sixth centuries4 and ,tzetzes ,footnote3 ,a ,greek poet and grammarian of the twelfth century4 would incline one to believe that the renown of the ,irish myths made its way into classical antiquity about the first or second century4 ,plutarch1 for example1 relates1 concerning the ,cronian ,sea1 fables identical with those which fill the legend of ,st4 ,malo4 ,procopius1 describing the sacred ,island of ,brittia1 which consists of two parts separated by the sea1 one delightful1 the other given over to evil spirits1 seems to have read in advance the description of the ,purgatory of ,st4 ,patrick1 which ,giraldus ,cambrensis was to give seven centuries later4 ,it cannot be doubted for a moment1 after the able researches of ,messrs4 ,ozanam1 ,labitte1 and ,wright1 that to the number of poetical themes which ,europe owes to the genius of the ,celts1 is to be added the framework of the ,divine ,comedy4 ,one can understand how greatly this invincible attraction to fables must have discredited the ,celtic race in the eyes of nationalities that believed themselves to be more serious4 ,it is in truth a strange thing1 that the whole of the mediaeval epoch1 whilst submitting to the influence of the ,celtic imagination1 and borrowing from ,brittany and ,ireland at least half of its poetical subjects1 believed itself obliged1 for the saving of its own honour1 to slight and satirise the people to which it owed them4 ,even ,chretien de ,troyes1 for example1 who passed his life in exploiting the ,breton romances for his own purposes1 originated the saying-- ,les ,gallois sont tous par nature ,plus sots que betes de pature4 ,some ,english chronicler1 ,i know not who1 imagined he was making a charming play upon words when he described those beautiful creations1 the whole world of which deserved to live1 as the childish nonsense with which those brutes of ,bretons amuse themselves4 ,the ,bollandists ,footnote3 ,a group of ,jesuits who issued a collection of ,lives of the ,saints4 ,the first five volumes were edited by ,john ,bolland4 found it incumbent to exclude from their collection1 as apocryphal extravagances1 those admirable religious legends1 with which no ,church has anything to compare4 ,the decided leaning of the ,celtic race towards the ideal1 its sadness1 its fidelity1 its good faith1 caused it to be regarded by its neighbours as dull1 foolish1 and superstitious4 ,they could not understand its delicacy and refined manner of feeling4 ,they mistook for awkwardness the embarrassment experienced by sincere and open natures in the presence of more artificial natures4 ,the contrast between ,french frivolity and ,breton stubbornness above all led1 after the fourteenth century1 to most deplorable conflicts1 whence the ,bretons ever emerged with a reputation for wrong-headedness4 ,it was still worse1 when the nation that most prides itself on its practical good sense found confronting it the people that1 to its own misfortune1 is least provided with that gift4 ,poor ,ireland1 with her ancient mythology1 with her ,purgatory of ,st4 ,patrick1 and her fantastic travels of ,st4 ,brandan1 was not destined to find grace in the eyes of ,english puritanism4 ,one ought to observe the disdain of ,english critics for these fables1 and their superb pity for the ,church which dallies with ,paganism1 so far as to keep up usages which are notoriously derived from it4 ,assuredly we have here a praiseworthy zeal1 arising from natural goodness2 and yet1 even if these flights of imagination did no more than render a little more supportable many sufferings which are said to have no remedy1 that after all would be something4 ,who shall dare to say where1 here on earth1 is the boundary between reason and dreaming8 ,which is worth more1 the imaginative instinct of man1 or the narrow orthodoxy that pretends to remain rational1 when speaking of things divine8 ,for my own part1 ,i prefer the frank mythology1 with all its vagaries1 to a theology so paltry1 so vulgar1 and so colourless1 that it would be wronging ,god to believe that1 after having made the visible world so beautiful he should have made the invisible world so prosaically reasonable4 ,in presence of the ever-encroaching progress of a civilisation which is of no country1 and can receive no name1 other than that of modern or ,european1 it would be puerile to hope that the ,celtic race is in the future to succeed in obtaining isolated expression of its originality4 ,and yet we are far from believing that this race has said its last word4 ,after having put in practice all chivalries1 devout and worldly1 gone with ,peredur in quest of the ,holy ,grail and fair ladies1 and dreamed with ,st4 ,brandan of mystical ,atlantides1 who knows what it would produce in the domain of intellect1 if it hardened itself to an entrance into the world1 and subjected its rich and profound nature to the conditions of modern thought8 ,it appears to me that there would result from this combination1 productions of high originality1 a subtle and discreet manner of taking life1 a singular union of strength and weakness1 of rude simplicity and mildness4 ,few races have had so complete a poetic childhood as the ,celtic2 mythology1 lyric poetry1 epic1 romantic imagination1 religious enthusiasm--none of these failed them2 why should reflection fail them8 ,germany1 which commenced with science and criticism1 has come to poetry2 why should not the ,celtic races1 which began with poetry1 finish with criticism8 ,there is not so great a distance from one to the other as is supposed2 the poetical races are the philosophic races1 and at bottom philosophy is only a manner of poetry4 ,when one considers how ,germany1 less than a century ago1 had her genius revealed to her1 how a multitude of national individualities1 to all appearance effaced1 have suddenly risen again in our own days1 more instinct with life than ever1 one feels persuaded that it is a rash thing to lay down any law on the intermittence and awakening of nations2 and that modern civilisation1 which appeared to be made to absorb them1 may perhaps be nothing more than their united fruition4 ,,the ,,education ,,of ,,the ,,human ,,race ,,by ,,gotthold ,,ephraim ,,lessino ,,translated ,,by ,f4 ,w4 ,,robertson ,,introductory ,,note ,lessing's life has been sketched in the introduction to his ,minna von ,barnhelm in the volume of ,continental ,dramas in ,the ,harvard ,classics4 ,the ,education of the ,human ,race is the culmination of a bitter theological controversy which began with the publication by ,lessing1 in #aggd-aggh1 of a series of fragments of a work on natural religion by the ,german deist1 ,reimarus4 ,this action brought upon ,lessing the wrath of the orthodox ,german ,protestants1 led by ,j4 ,m4 ,goeze1 and in the battle that followed ,lessing did his great work for the liberalising of religious thought in ,germany4 ,the present treatise is an extraordinarily condensed statement of the author's attitude towards the fundamental questions of religion1 and gives his view of the signification of the previous religious history of mankind1 along with his faith ,and hope for the future4 ,as originally issued1 the essay purported to be merely edited by ,lessing2 but there is no longer any doubt as to his having been its author4 ,it is an admirable and characteristic expression of the serious and elevated spirit in which he dealt with matters that had then1 as often1 been degraded by the virulence of controversy4 ,,the ,,education ,,of ,,the ,,human ,,race #a ,that which ,education is to the ,individual1 ,revelation is to the ,race4 #b ,education is ,revelation coming to the ,individual ,man2 and ,revelation is ,education which has come1 and is yet coming1 to the ,human ,race4 #c ,whether it can be of any advantage to the science of instruction to contemplate ,education in this point of view1 ,i will not here inquire2 but in ,theology it may unquestionably be of great advantage1 and may remove many difficulties1 if ,revelation be conceived of as the ,educator of ,humanity4 #d ,education gives to ,man nothing which he might not educe out of himself2 it gives him that which he might educe out of himself1 only quicker and more easily4 ,in the same way too1 ,revelation gives nothing to the human species1 which the human reason left to itself might not attain2 only it has given1 and still gives to it1 the most important of these things earlier4 #e ,and just as in ,education1 it is not a matter of indifference in what order the powers of a man are developed1 as it cannot impart to a man all at once2 so was ,god also necessitated to maintain a certain order1 and a certain measure in ,his ,revelation4 #f ,even if the first man were furnished at once with a conception of the ,one ,god2 yet it was not possible that this conception1 imparted1 and not gained by thought1 should subsist long in its clearness4 ,as soon as the ,human ,reason1 left to itself1 began to elaborate it1 it broke up the one ,immeasurable into many ,measurables1 and gave a note or sign of mark to every one of these parts4 #g ,hence naturally arose polytheism and idolatry4 ,and who can say how many millions of years human reason would have been bewildered in these errors1 even though in all places and times there were individual men who recognized them as errors1 had it not pleased ,god to afford it a better direction by means of a new ,impulse8 #h ,but when ,he neither could nor would reveal ,himself any more to each individual man1 ,he selected an individual ,people for ,his special education2 and that exactly the most rude and the most unruly1 in order to begin with it from the very commencement4 #i ,this was the ,hebrew ,people1 respecting whom we do not in the least know what kind of ,divine ,worship they had in ,egypt4 ,for so despised a race of slaves was not permitted to take part in the worship of the ,egyptians2 and the ,god of their fathers was entirely unknown to them4 #aj ,it is possible that the ,egyptians had expressly prohibited the ,hebrews from having a ,god or ,gods1 perhaps they had forced upon them the belief that their despised race had no ,god1 no ,gods1 that to have a ,god or ,gods was the prerogative of the superior ,egyptians only1 and this may have been so held in order to have the power of tyrannising over them with a greater show of fairness4 ,do ,christians even now do much better with their slaves8 #aa ,to this rude people ,god caused ,himself to be announced first1 simply as the ,god of their fathers1 in order to make them acquainted and familiar with the idea of a ,god belonging to them also1 and to begin with confidence in ,him4 #ab ,through the miracles with which ,he led them out of ,egypt1 and planted them in ,canaan1 ,he testified of ,himself to them as a ,god mightier than any other ,god4 #ac ,and as ,he proceeded1 demonstrating ,himself to be the ,mightiest of all1 which only ,one can be1 ,he gradually accustomed them thus to the idea of ,,the ,,one4 #ad ,but how far was this conception of ,the ,one1 below the true transcendental conception of the ,one which ,reason learnt to derive1 so late with certainty1 from the conception of the ,infinite ,one8 #ae ,although the best of the people were already more or less approaching the true conception of the ,one only1 the people as a whole could not for a long time elevate themselves to it4 ,and this was the sole true reason why they so often abandoned their one ,god1 and expected to find the ,one1 i4 e41 as they meant1 the ,mightiest1 in some ,god or other1 belonging to another people4 #af ,but of what kind of moral education was a people so raw1 so incapable of abstract thoughts1 and so entirely in their childhood capable8 ,of none other but such as is adapted to the age of children1 an education by rewards and punishments addressed to the senses4 #ag ,here too ,education and ,revelation meet together4 ,as yet ,god could give to ,his people no other religion1 no other law than one through obedience to which they might hope to be happy1 or through disobedience to which they must fear to be unhappy4 ,for as yet their regards went no further than this earth4 ,they knew of no immortality of the soul2 they yearned after no life to come4 ,but now to reveal these things to one whose reason had as yet so little growth1 what would it have been but the same fault in the ,divine ,rule as is committed by the schoolmaster1 who chooses to hurry his pupil too rapidly1 and boast of his progress1 rather than thoroughly to ground him8 #ah ,but1 it will be asked1 to what purpose was this education of so rude a people1 a people with whom ,god had to begin so entirely from the beginning8 ,i reply1 in order that in the process of time ,he might employ particular members of this nation as the ,teachers of other people4 ,he was bringing up in them the future ,teachers of the human race4 ,it was the ,jews who became their teachers1 none but ,jews2 only men out of a people so brought up1 could be their teachers4 #ai ,for to proceed4 ,when the ,child by dint of blows and caresses had grown and was now come to years of understanding1 the ,father sent it at once into foreign countries3 and here it recognised at once the ,good which in its ,father's house it had possessed1 and had not been conscious of4 #bj4 ,while ,god guided ,his chosen people through all the degrees of a child-like education1 the other nations of the earth had gone on by the light of reason4 ,the most part had remained far behind the chosen people4 ,only a few had got before them4 ,and this too1 takes place with children1 who are allowed to grow up left to themselves3 many remain quite raw1 some educate themselves even to an astonishing degree4 #ba ,but as these more fortunate few prove nothing against the use and necessity of ,education1 so the few heathen nations1 who even appear to have made a start in the knowledge of ,god before the chosen people1 prove nothing against a ,revelation4 ,the ,child of ,education begins with slow yet sure footsteps2 it is late in overtaking many a more happily organised child of nature2 but it does overtake it2 and thenceforth can never be distanced by it again4 #bb ,similarly--,putting aside the doctrine of the ,unity of ,god1 which in a way is found1 and in a way is not found1 in the books of the ,old ,testament--that the doctrine of immortality at least is not discoverable in it1 is wholly foreign to it1 that all doctrine connected therewith of reward and punishment in a future life1 proves just as little against the ,divine origin of these books4 ,notwithstanding the absence of these doctrines1 the account of miracles and prophecies may be perfectly true4 ,for let us suppose that these doctrines were not only wanting therein1 but even that they were not at all true2 let us suppose that for mankind all was over in this life2 would the ,being of ,god be for this reason less demonstrated8 ,would ,god be for this less at liberty1 would it less become ,him to take immediate charge of the temporal fortunes of any people out of this perishable race8 ,the miracles which ,he performed for the ,jews1 the prophecies which ,he caused to be recorded through them1 were surely not for the few mortal ,jews1 in whose time they had happened and been recorded3 ,he had ,his intentions therein in reference to the whole ,jewish people1 to the entire ,human ,race1 which1 perhaps1 is destined to remain on earth forever1 though every individual ,jew and every individual man die forever4 #bc ,once more1 ,the absence of those doctrines in the writings of the ,old ,testament proves nothing against their ,divinity4 ,moses was sent from ,god even though the sanction of his law only extended to this life4 ,for why should it extend further8 ,he was surely sent only to the ,israelitish people of that time1 and his commission was perfectly adapted to the knowledge1 capacities1 yearnings of the then existing ,israelitish people1 as well as to the destination of that which belonged to the future4 ,and this is sufficient4 #bd ,so far ought ,warburton to have gone1 and no further4 ,but that learned man overdrew his bow4 ,not content that the absence of these doctrines was no discredit to the ,divine mission of ,moses1 it must even be a proof to him of the ,divinity of the mission4 ,and if he had only sought this proof in the adaptation of such a law to such a people6 ,but he betook himself to the hypothesis of a miraculous system continued in an unbroken line from ,moses to ,christ1 according to which1 ,god had made every individual ,jew exactly happy or unhappy1 in the proportion to his obedience or disobedience to the law deserved4 ,he would have it that this miraculous system had compensated for the want of those doctrines 7of eternal rewards and punishments1 c471 without which no state can subsist2 and that such a compensation even proved what that want at first sight appeared to negative4 #be ,how well it was that ,warburton could by no argument prove or even make likely this continuous miracle1 in which he placed the existence of ,israelitish ,theocracy6 ,for could he have done so1 in truth1 he could then1 and not till then1 have made the difficulty really insuperable1 to me at least4 ,for that which was meant to prove the ,divine character of the ,mission of ,moses1 would have rendered the matter itself doubtful1 which ,god1 it is true1 did not intend then to reveal2 but which on the other hand1 ,he certainly would not render unattainable4 #bf ,i explain myself by that which is a picture of ,revelation4 ,a ,primer for children may fairly pass over in silence this or that important piece of knowledge or art which it expounds1 respecting which the ,teacher judged1 that it is not yet fitted for the capacities of the children for whom he was writing4 ,but it must contain absolutely nothing which blocks up the way towards the knowledge which is held back1 or misleads the children from it4 ,rather far1 all the approaches towards it must be carefully left open2 and to lead them away from even one of these approaches1 or to cause them to enter it later than they need1 would alone be enough to change the mere imperfection of such a ,primer into an actual fault4 #bg ,in the same way1 in the writings of the ,old ,testament those primers for the rude ,israelitish people1 unpractised in thought1 the doctrines of the immortality of the soul1 and future recompenses1 might be fairly left out3 but they were bound to contain nothing which could have even procrastinated the progress of the people1 for whom they were written1 in their way to this grand truth4 ,and to say but a small thing1 what could have more procrastinated it than the promise of such a miraculous recompense in this life8 ,a promise made by ,him who promises nothing that ,he does not perform4 #bh ,for although unequal distribution of the goods of this life1 ,virtue and ,vice seem to be taken too little into consideration1 although this unequal distribution docs not exactly afford a strong proof of the immortality of the soul and of a life to come1 in which this difficulty will be reserved hereafter1 it is certain that without this difficulty the human understanding would not for a long time1 perhaps never1 have arrived at better or firmer proofs4 ,for what was to impel it to seek for these better proofs8 ,mere curiosity8 #bi ,an ,israelite here and there1 no doubt1 might have extended to every individual member of the entire commonwealth1 those promises and threatenings which belong to it as a whole1 and be firmly persuaded that whosoever should be pious must also be happy1 and that whoever was unhappy must be bearing the penalty of his wrong-doing1 which penalty would forthwith change itself into blessing1 as soon as he abandoned his sin4 ,such a one appears to have written ,job1 for the plan of it is entirely in this spirit4 #cj ,but daily experience could not possibly be permitted to confirm this belief1 or else it would have been all over1 for ever1 with people who had this experience1 so far as all recognition and reception was concerned of the truth as yet unfamiliar to them4 ,for if the pious were absolutely happy1 and it also of course was a necessary part of his happiness that his satisfaction should be broken by no uneasy thoughts of death1 and that he should die old1 and satisfied with life to the full3 how could he yearn after another life8 and how could he reflect upon a thing after which he did not yearn8 ,but if the pious did not reflect thereupon1 who then should reflect8 ,the transgressor8 he who felt the punishments of his misdeeds1 and if he cursed this life1 must have so gladly renounced that other existence8 #ca ,much less would it signify if an ,israelite here and there directly and expressly denied the immortality of the soul and future recompense1 on account of the law having no reference thereto4 ,the denial of an individual1 had it even been a ,solomon1 did not arrest the progress of the general reason1 and was even in itself a proof that the nation had now come a great step nearer the truth ,for individuals only deny what the many are bringing into consideration2 and to bring into consideration that1 concerning which no one troubled himself at all before1 is half way to knowledge4 #cb ,let us also acknowledge that it is a heroic obedience to obey the laws of ,god simply because they are ,god's laws1 and not because ,he has promised to reward the obedience to them here and there2 to obey them even though there be an entire despair of future recompense1 and uncertainty respecting a temporal one4 #cc ,must not a people educated in this heroic obedience towards ,god have been destined1 must they not have been capable beyond all others of executing ,divine purpose8 of quite a special character8 ,let the soldier1 who pays blind obedience to his leader1 become also convinced of his leader's wisdom1 and then say what that leader may not undertake to achieve with him4 #cd ,as yet the ,jewish people had reverenced in their ,jehovah rather the mightiest than the wisest of all ,gods2 as yet they had rather feared ,him as a ,jealous ,god than loved ,him3 a proof this too1 that the conception which they had of their eternal ,one ,god was not exactly the right conception which we should have of ,god4 ,however1 now the time was come that these conceptions of theirs were to be expanded1 ennobled1 rectified1 to accomplish which ,god availed ,himself of a quite natural means1 a better and more correct measure1 by which it got the opportunity of appreciating ,him4 #ce ,instead of1 as hitherto1 appreciating ,him in contrast with the miserable idols of the small neighboring peoples1 with whom they lived in constant rivalry1 they began1 in captivity under the wise ,persians1 to measure ,him against the ,being of all ,beings such as a more disciplined reason recognized and reverenced4 #cf ,revelation had guided their reason1 and now1 all at once1 reason gave clearness to their ,revelation4 #cg ,this was the first reciprocal influence which these two 7,reason and ,revelation7 exercised on one another2 and so far is the mutual influence from being unbecoming to the ,author of them both1 that without it either of them would have been useless4 #ch ,the child1 sent abroad1 saw other children who knew more1 who lived more becomingly1 and asked itself1 in confusion1 ,why do ,i not know that too8 ,why do ,i not live so too8 ,ought ,i not to have been taught and admonished of all this in my father's house8 ,thereupon it again sought out its ,primer1 which had long been thrown into a corner1 in order to throw off a blame upon the ,primer4 ,but behold1 it discovers that the blame does not rest upon the books1 that the shame is solely its own1 for not having long ago1 known this very thing1 and lived in this very way4 #ci ,since the ,jews1 by this time1 through the medium of the pure ,persian doctrine1 recognized in their ,jehovah1 not simply the greatest of all national deities1 but ,,god2 and since they could1 the more readily find ,him and indicate ,him to others in their sacred writings1 inasmuch as ,he was really in them2 and since they manifested as great an aversion for sensuous representations1 or at all events1 were instructed in these ,scriptures1 to have an aversion to them as great as the ,persians had always felt2 what wonder that they found favor in the eyes of ,cyrus1 with a ,divine ,worship which he recognized as being1 no doubt1 far below pure ,sabeism1 but yet far above the rude idolatries which in its stead had taken possession of the forsaken land of the ,jews4 #dj ,thus enlightened respecting the treasures which they had possessed1 without knowing it1 they returned1 and became quite another people1 whose first care it was to give permanency to this illumination amongst themselves4 ,soon an apostacy and idolatry among them was out of the question4 ,for it is possible to be faithless to a national deity1 but never to ,god1 after ,he has once been recognised4 ,the theologians have tried to explain this complete change in the ,jewish people in a different way2 and one1 who has well demonstrated the insufficiency of these explanations1 at last was for giving us1 as a true account--the visible fulfilment of the prophecies which had been spoken and written respecting the ,babylonish captivity and the restoration from it4 ,but even this reason can be only so far the true one1 as it presupposes the1 by this time1 exalted ideas of ,god4 ,the ,jews must by this time have recognised that to do miracles1 and to predict the future1 belonged only to ,god1 both of which they had ascribed formerly to false idols1 by which it came to pass that even miracles and prophecies had hitherto made so weak an impression upon them4 #db ,doubtless1 the ,jews were made more acquainted with the doctrine of immortality among the ,chaldeans and ,persians4 ,they became more familiar with it too in the schools of the ,greek ,philosophers in ,egypt4 #dc ,however1 as this doctrine was not in the same condition in reference to their ,scriptures that the doctrines of ,god's ,unity and ,attributes were--since the former were entirely overlooked by that sensual people1 while the latter would be sought for3--and since too1 for the former1 previous exercising was necessary1 and as yet there had been only hints and allusions1 the faith in the immortality of the soul could naturally never be the faith of the entire people4 ,it was and continued to be only the creed of a certain section of them4 #dd ,an example of what ,i mean by previous exercising for the doctrine of immortality1 is the ,divine threatenings of punishing the misdeeds of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation4 ,this accustomed the fathers to live in thought with their remotest posterity1 and to feel1 as it were1 beforehand1 the misfortune which they had brought upon these guiltless ones4 #de ,by an allusion ,i mean that which was intended only to excite curiosity and to occasion questions4 ,as1 for instance1 the oft- recurring mode of expression1 describing death by he was gathered to his fathers4 ,by a hint ,i mean that which already contains any germ1 out of which the1 as yet1 held back truth allows itself to be developed4 ,of this character was the inference of ,christ from the naming of ,god the ,god of ,abraham1 ,isaac1 and ,jacob4 ,this hint appears to me to be unquestionably capable of being worked out into a strong proof4 #dg ,in such previous exercitations1 allusions1 hints1 consists the positive perfection of a ,primer2 just as the above-mentioned peculiarity of not throwing difficulties or hindrances in the way to the suppressed truth constitutes the negative perfection of such a book4 #dh ,add to all this the clothing and style4 #a4 ,the clothing of abstract truths1 which were not entirely to be passed over1 in allegories and instructive single circumstances1 which were narrated as actual occurrences4 ,of this character are the ,creation under the image of growing ,day2 the ,origin of ,evil in the story of the ,forbidden ,tree2 the source of the variety of languages in the history of the ,tower of ,babel1 c4 #di #b4 ,the style--sometimes plain and simple1 sometimes poetical1 throughout full of tautologies1 but of such a kind as practised sagacity1 since they sometimes appear to be saying something else1 and yet the same thing2 sometimes the same thing over again1 and yet to signify or to be capable of signifying at the bottom1 something else3-- #ej ,and then you have all the properties of excellence which belong to a ,primer for a childlike people1 as well as for children4 #ea ,but every ,primer is only for a certain age4 ,to delay the child1 that has outgrown it1 longer in it than it was intended for1 is hurtful4 ,for to be able to do this is a way in any sort profitable1 you must insert into it more than there is really in it1 and extract from it more than it can contain4 ,you must look for and make too much of allusions and hints2 squeeze allegories too closely2 interpret examples too circumstantially2 press too much upon words4 ,this gives the child a petty1 crooked1 hair splitting understanding3 it makes him full of mysteries1 superstitions2 full of contempt for all that is comprehensible and easy4 #eb ,the very way in which the ,rabbins handled their sacred books6 ,the very character which they thereby imparted to the character of their people6 #ec ,a ,better ,instructor must come and tear the exhausted ,primer from the child's hands4 ,,christ came6 #ed ,that portion of the human race which ,god had willed to comprehend in one ,educational plan1 was ripe for the ,second step of ,education4 ,he had1 however1 only willed to comprehend on such a plan1 one which by language1 mode of action1 government1 and other natural and political relationships1 was already united in itself4 #ee ,that is1 this portion of the human race was come so far in the exercise of its reason1 as to need1 and to be able to make use of nobler and worthier motives of moral action than temporal rewards and punishments1 which had hitherto been its guides4 ,the child had become a youth4 ,sweetmeats and toys have given place to the budding desire to go as free1 as honored1 and as happy as its elder brother4 #ef ,for a long time1 already1 the best individuals of that portion of the human race 7called above the elder brother72 had been accustomed to let themselves be ruled by the shadow of such nobler motives4 ,the ,greek and ,roman did everything to live on after this life1 even if it were only in the remembrance of their fellow-citizens4 #eg ,it was time that another true life to be expected after this should gain an influence over the youth's actions4 #eh ,and so ,christ was the first certain practical ,teacher of the immortality of the soul4 #ei ,the first certain ,teacher4 ,certain1 through the prophecies which were fulfilled in ,him2 certain1 through the miracles which ,he achieved2 certain1 through ,his own revival after a death through which ,he had sealed ,his doctrine4 ,whether we can still prove this revival1 these miracles1 ,i put aside1 as ,i leave on one side who the ,person of ,christ was4 ,all that may have been at that time of great weight for the reception of ,his doctrine1 but it is now no longer of the same importance for the recognition of the truth of ,his doctrine4 #fj ,the first practical ,teacher4 ,for it is one thing to conjecture1 to wish1 and to believe the immortality of the soul1 as a philosophic speculation3 quite another thing to direct the inner and outer acts by it4 #fa ,and this at least ,christ was the first to teach4 ,for although1 already before ,him1 the belief had been introduced among many nations1 that bad actions have yet to be punished in that life2 yet they were only such actions as were injurious to civil society1 and consequently1 too1 had already had their punishment in civil society4 ,to enforce an inward purity of heart in reference to another life1 was reserved for ,him alone4 #fb ,his disciples have faithfully propagated these doctrines3 and if they had even had no other merit1 than that of having effected a more general publication1 among other nations1 of a ,truth which ,christ had appeared to have destined only for the ,jews1 yet would they have even on that account alone1 to be reckoned among the ,benefactors and ,fosterers of the ,human ,race4 #fc ,if1 however1 they transplanted this one great ,truth together with other doctrines1 whose truth was less enlightening1 whose usefulness was of a less exalted character1 how could it be otherwise4 ,let us not blame them for this1 but rather seriously examine whether these very commingled doctrines have not become a new impulse of directions for human reason4 #fd ,at least1 it is already clear that the ,new ,testament ,scriptures1 in which these doctrines after some time were found preserved1 have afforded1 and still afford1 the second better ,primer for the race of man4 #fe ,for seven hundred years past they have exercised human reason more than all other books1 and enlightened it more1 were it even only through the light which the human reason itself threw into them4 #ff ,it would have been impossible for any other book to become so generally known among different nations3 and indisputably1 the fact that modes of thought so diverse from each other have been occupied on the same book1 has helped on the human reason more than if every nation had had its own ,primer specially for itself4 #fg ,it was also highly necessary that each people for a period should hold this ,book as the ne plus ultra of their knowledge4 ,for the youth must consider his ,primer as the first of all books1 that the impatience to finish this book1 may not hurry him on to things for which he has1 as yet1 laid no basis4 #fh ,and one thing is also of the greatest importance even now4 ,thou abler spirit1 who art fretting and restless over the last page of the ,primer1 beware6 ,beware of letting thy weaker fellow scholars mark what thou perceivest afar1 or what thou art beginning to see6 ,until these weaker fellow scholars are up with thee1 rather return once more into this ,primer1 and examine whether that which thou takest only for duplicates of the method1 for a blunder in the teaching1 is not perhaps something more4 #gj ,thou hast seen in the childhood of the human race1 respecting the doctrine of ,god's unity1 that ,god makes immediate revelations of mere truths of reason1 or has permitted and caused pure truths of reason to be taught1 for some time1 as truths of immediate revelation1 in order to promulgate them the more rapidly1 and ground them the more firmly4 #ga ,thou experiencest in the boyhood of the ,race the same thing in reference to the doctrine of the immortality of the soul4 ,it is preached in the better ,primer as a ,revelation1 instead of taught as a result of human reason4 #gb ,as we by this time can dispense with the ,old ,testament1 in reference to the doctrine of the unity of ,god1 and as we are by degrees beginning also to be less dependent on the ,new ,testament1 in reference to the immortality of the soul3 might there not in this ,book also be other truths of the same sort prefigured1 mirrored1 as it were1 which we are to marvel at1 as revelations1 exactly so long as until the time shall come when reason shall have learned to educe them1 out of its other demonstrated truths and bind them up with them8 #gc ,for instance1 the doctrine of the ,trinity4 ,how if this doctrine should at last1 after endless errors1 right and left1 only bring men on the road to recognise that ,god cannot possibly be ,one in the sense in which finite things are one1 that even ,his unity must be a transcendental unity1 which does not exclude a sort of purality8 ,must not ,god at least have the most perfect conception of ,himself1 i4 e41 a conception in which is found everything which is in ,him8 ,but would everything be found in it which is in ,him1 if a mere conception1 a mere possibility1 were found even of his necessary ,reality as well as of ,his other qualities8 ,this possibility exhausts the being of ,his other qualities4 ,does it that of ,his necessary ,reality8 ,i think not4 ,consequently ,god can either have no perfect conception of himself at all1 or this perfect conception is just as necessarily real1 i4 e41 actually existent1 as ,he ,himself is4 ,certainly the image of myself in the mirror is nothing but an empty representation of me1 because it only has that of me upon the surface of which beams of light fall4 ,but now if this image had everything1 everything without exception1 which ,i have myself1 would it then still be a mere empty representation1 or not rather a true reduplication of myself8 ,when ,i believe that ,i recognise in ,god a familiar reduplication1 ,i perhaps do not so much err1 as that my language is insufficient for my ideas3 and so much at least for ever incontrovertible1 that they who wish to make the idea thereof popular for comprehension1 could scarcely have expressed themselves more intelligibly and suitably than by giving the name of a ,son begotten from ,eternity4 #gd ,and the doctrine of ,original ,sin4 ,how1 if at last everything were to convince us that man standing on the first and lowest step of his humanity1 is not so entirely master of his actions as to be able to obey moral laws8 #ge ,and the doctrine of the ,son's satisfaction4 ,how1 if at last1 all compelled us to assume that ,god1 in spite of that original incapacity of man1 chose rather to give him moral laws1 and forgive him all transgressions in consideration of ,his ,son1 i4 e41 in consideration of the self-existent total of all ,his own perfections1 compared with which1 and in which1 all imperfections of the individual disappear1 than not to give him those laws1 and then to exclude him from all moral blessedness1 which cannot be conceived of without moral laws4 ,let it not be objected that speculations of this description upon the mysteries of religion are forbidden4 ,the word mystery signified1 in the first ages of ,christianity1 something quite different from what it means now3 and the cultivation of revealed truths into truths of reason1 is absolutely necessary1 if the human race is to be assisted by them4 ,when they were revealed they were certainly no truths of reason1 but they were revealed in order to become such4 ,they were like the that makes--of the ciphering master1 which he says to the boys1 beforehand1 in order to direct them thereby in their reckoning4 ,if the scholars were to be satisfied with the that makes1 they would never learn to calculate1 and would frustrate the intention with which their good master gave them a guiding clue in their work4 #gg ,and why should not we too1 by the means of a religion whose historical truth1 if you will1 looks dubious1 be conducted in a familiar way to closer and better conceptions of the ,divine ,being1 our own nature1 our relation to ,god1 truths at which the human reason would never have arrived of itself8 #gh ,it is not true that speculations upon these things have ever done harm or become injurious to the body politic4 ,you must reproach1 not the speculations1 but the folly and the tyranny of checking them4 ,you must lay the blame on those who would not permit men having their own speculations to exercise them4 #gi ,on the contrary1 speculations of this sort1 whatever the result1 are unquestionably the most fitting exercises of the human heart1 generally1 so long as the human heart1 generally1 is at best only capable of loving virtue for the sake of its eternal blessed consequences4 #hj ,for in this selfishness of the human heart1 to will to practice the understanding too1 only on that which concerns our corporal needs1 would be to blunt rather than to sharpen it4 ,it absolutely will be exercised on spiritual objects1 if it is to attain its perfect illumination1 and bring out that purity of heart which makes us capable of loving virtue for its own sake alone4 #ha ,or1 is the human species never to arrive at this highest step of illumination and purity8--,never8 #hb ,never8--,let me not think this blasphemy1 ,all ,merciful6 ,education has its goal1 in the ,race1 no less than in the ,individual4 ,that which is educated is educated for something4 #hc ,the flattering prospects which are open to the people1 the ,honor and ,well-being which are painted to him1 what are they more than the means of educating him to become a man1 who1 when these prospects of ,honor and ,well-being have vanished1 shall be able to do his ,duty8 #hd ,this is the aim of human education1 and should not the ,divine education extend as far8 ,is that which is successful in the way of ,art with the individual1 not to be successful in the way of ,nature with the whole8 ,blasphemy6 ,blasphemy66 #he ,no6 ,it will come6 it will assuredly come6 the time of the perfecting1 when man1 the more convinced his understanding feels itself of an ever better ,future1 will nevertheless not be necessitated to borrow motives of action from this ,future2 for he will do the ,right because it is right1 not because arbitrary rewards are annexed thereto1 which formerly were intended simply to fix and strengthen his unsteady gaze in recognising the inner1 better1 rewards of well-doing4 #hf ,it will assuredly come6 the time of a new eternal ,gospel1 which is promised us in the ,primer of the ,new ,testament itself6 #hg ,perhaps even some enthusiasts of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries had caught a glimpse of a beam of this new eternal ,gospel1 and only erred in that they predicted its outburst at so near to their own time4 #hh ,perhaps their ,three ,ages of the ,world were not so empty a speculation after all1 and assuredly they had no contemptible views when they taught that the ,new ,covenant must become as much antiquated as the old has been4 ,there remained by them the similarity of the economy of the same ,god4 ,ever1 to let them speak my words1 ever the self-same plan of the ,education of the ,race4 #hi ,only they were premature4 ,only they believed that they could make their contemporaries1 who had scarcely outgrown their childhood1 without enlightenment1 without preparation1 men worthy of their ,third ,age4 #ij ,and it was just this which made them enthusiasts4 ,the enthusiast often casts true glances into the future1 but for this future he cannot wait4 ,he wishes this future accelerated1 and accelerated through him4 ,that for which nature takes thousands of years is to mature itself in the moment of his existence4 ,for what possession has he in it if that which he recognises as the ,best does not become the best in his lifetime8 ,does he come back8 ,does he expect to come back8 ,marvellous only that this enthusiastic expectation does not become more the fashion among enthusiasts4 #ia ,go thine inscrutable way1 ,eternal ,providence6 ,only let me not despair in ,thee1 because of this inscrutableness4 ,let me not despair in ,thee1 even if ,thy steps appear to me to be going back4 ,it is not true that the shortest line is always straight4 #ib ,thou hast on ,thine ,eternal ,way so much to carry on together1 so much to do6 ,so many aside steps to take6 ,and what if it were as good as proved that the vast flow wheel which brings mankind nearer to this perfection is only put in motion by smaller1 swifter wheels1 each of which contributes its own individual unit thereto8 #ic ,it is so6 ,the very same ,way by which the ,race reaches its perfection1 must every individual man--one sooner--another later-- have travelled over4 ,have travelled over in one and the same life8 ,can he have been1 in one and the self-same life1 a sensual ,jew and a spiritual ,christian8 ,can he in the self-same life have overtaken both8 #id ,surely not that6 ,but why should not every individual man have existed more than once upon this ,world8 #ie ,is this hypothesis so laughable merely because it is the oldest8 ,because the human understanding1 before the sophistries of the ,schools had dissipated and debilitated it1 lighted upon it at once8 ,why may not even ,i have already performed those steps of my perfecting which bring to man only temporal punishments and rewards8 #ig ,and once more1 why not another time all those steps1 to perform which the views of ,eternal ,rewards so powerfully assist us8 ,why should ,i not come back as often as ,i am capable of acquiring fresh knowledge1 fresh expertness8 ,do ,i bring away so much from once1 that there is nothing to repay the trouble of coming back8 #ii ,is this a reason against it8 ,or1 because ,i forget that ,i have been here already8 ,happy is it for me that ,i do forget4 ,the recollection of my former condition would permit me to make only a bad use of the present4 ,and that which even ,i must forget now1 is that necessarily forgotten for ever8 #ajj ,or is it a reason against the hypothesis that so much time would have been lost to me8 ,lost8--,and how much then should ,i miss8--,is not a whole ,eternity mine8 ,,letters ,,upon ,,the ,,aesthetic ,,education ,,of ,,man ,,by ,j4 ,c4 ,,friedrich ,,von ,,schiller ,,introductory ,,note ,an outline of the life of ,schiller will be found prefixed to the translation of ,wilhelm ,tell in the volume of ,continental ,dramas in ,the ,harvard ,classics4 ,schiller's importance in the intellectual history of ,germany is by no means confined to his poetry and dramas4 ,he did notable work in history and philosophy1 and in the department of esthetics especially1 he made significant contributions1 modifying and developing in important respects the doctrines of ,kant4 ,in the letters on ,esthetic ,education which are here printed1 he gives the philosophic basis for his doctrine of art1 and indicates clearly and persuasively his view of the place of beauty in human life4 ,,letters ,,upon ,,the ,,aesthetic ,,education ,,of ,,man ,,letter ,i4 ,by your permission ,i lay before you1 in a series of letters1 the results of my researches upon beauty and art4 ,i am keenly sensible of the importance as well as of the charm and dignity of this undertaking4 ,i shall treat a subject which is closely connected with the better portion of our happiness and not far removed from the moral nobility of human nature4 ,i shall plead this cause of the ,beautiful before a heart by which her whole power is felt and exercised1 and which will take upon itself the most difficult part of my task in an investigation where one is compelled to appeal as frequently to feelings as to principles4 ,that which ,i would beg of you as a favour1 you generously impose upon me as a duty2 and1 when ,i solely consult my inclination1 you impute to me a service4 ,the liberty of action you prescribe is rather a necessity for me than a constraint little exercised in formal rules1 ,i shall scarcely incur the risk of sinning against good taste by any undue use of them2 my ideas1 drawn rather from within than from reading or from an intimate experience with the world1 will not disown their origin2 they would rather incur any reproach than that of a sectarian bias1 and would prefer to succumb by their innate feebleness than sustain themselves by borrowed authority and foreign support4 ,in truth1 ,i will not keep back from you that the assertions which follow rest chiefly upon ,kantian principles2 but if in the course of these researches you should be reminded of any special school of philosophy1 ascribe it to my incapacity1 not to those principles4 ,no2 your liberty of mind shall be sacred to me2 and the facts upon which ,i build will be furnished by your own sentiments2 your own unfettered thought will dictate the laws according to which we to proceed4 ,with regard to the ideas which predominate in the practical part of ,kant's system1 philosophers only disagree1 whilst mankind1 ,i am confident of proving1 have never done so4 ,if stripped of their technical shape1 they will appear as the verdict of reason pronounced from time immemorial by common consent1 and as facts of the moral instinct which nature1 in her wisdom1 has given to man in order to serve as guide and teacher until his enlightened intelligence gives him maturity4 ,but this very technical shape which renders truth visible to the understanding conceals it from the feelings2 for1 unhappily1 understanding begins by destroying the object of the inner sense before it can appropriate the object4 ,like the chemist1 the philosopher finds synthesis only by analysis1 or the spontaneous work of nature only through the torture of art4 ,thus1 in order to detain the fleeting apparition1 he must enchain it in the fetters of rule1 dissect its fair proportions into abstract notions1 and preserve its living spirit in a fleshless skeleton of words4 ,is it surprising that natural feeling should not recognise itself in such a copy1 and if in the report of the analyst the truth appears as paradox8 ,permit me therefore to crave your indulgence if the following researches should remove their object from the sphere of sense while endeavouring to draw it towards the understanding4 ,that which ,i before said of moral experience can be applied with greater truth to the manifestation of the beautiful4 ,it is the mystery which enchants1 and its being is extinguished with the extinction of the necessary combination of its elements4 ,,letter ,,ii4 ,but ,i might perhaps make a better use of the opening you afford me if ,i were to direct your mind to a loftier theme than that of art4 ,it would appear to be unseasonable to go in search of a code for the aesthetic world1 when the moral world offers matter of so much higher interest1 and when the spirit of philosophical inquiry is so stringently challenged by the circumstances of our times to occupy itself with the most perfect of all works of art--the establishment and structure of a true political freedom4 ,it is unsatisfactory to live out of your own age and to work for other times4 ,it is equally incumbent on us to be good members of our own age as of our own state or country4 ,if it is conceived to be unseemly and even unlawful for a man to segregate himself from the customs and manners of the circle in which he lives1 it would be inconsistent not to see that it is equally his duty to grant a proper share of influence to the voice of his own epoch1 to its taste and its requirements1 in the operations in which he engages4 ,but the voice of our age seems by no means favorable to art1 at all events to that kind of art to which my inquiry is directed4 ,the course of events has given a direction to the genius of the time that threatens to remove it continually further from the ideal of art4 ,for art has to leave reality1 it has to raise itself bodily above necessity and neediness for art is the daughter of freedom1 and it requires its prescriptions and rules to be furnished by the necessity of spirits and not by that of matter4 ,but in our day it is necessity1 neediness1 that prevails1 and bends a degraded humanity under its iron yoke4 ,utility is the great idol of the time1 to which all powers do homage and all subjects are subservient4 ,in this great balance of utility1 the spiritual service of art has no weight1 and1 deprived of all encouragement1 it vanishes from the noisy ,vanity ,fair of our time4 ,the very spirit of philosophical inquiry itself robs the imagination of one promise after another1 and the frontiers of art are narrowed1 in proportion as the limits of science are enlarged4 ,the eyes of the philosopher as well as of the man of the world are anxiously turned to the theatre of political events1 where it is presumed the great destiny of man is to be played out4 ,it would almost seem to betray e culpable indifference to the welfare of society if we did not share this general interest4 ,for this great commerce in social and moral principles is of necessity a matter of the greatest concern to every human being1 on the ground both of its subject and of its results4 ,it must accordingly be of deepest moment to every man to think for himself4 ,it would seem that now at length a question that formerly was only settled by the law of the stronger is to be determined by the calm judgment of the reason1 and every man who is capable of placing himself in a central position1 and raising his individuality into that of his species1 can look upon himself as in possession of this judicial faculty of reason2 being moreover1 as man and member of the human family1 a party in the case under trial and involved more or less in its decisions4 ,it would thus appear that this great political process is not only engaged with his individual case1 it has also to pronounce enactments1 which he as a rational spirit is capable of enunciating and entitled to pronounce4 ,it is evident that it would have been most attractive to me to inquire into an object such as this1 to decide such a question in conjunction with a thinker of powerful mind1 a man of liberal sympathies1 and a heart imbued with a noble enthusiasm for the weal of humanity4 ,though so widely separated by worldly position1 it would have been a delightful surprise to have found your unprejudiced mind arriving at the same result as my own in the field of ideas1 ,nevertheless1 ,i think ,i can not only excuse1 but even justify by solid grounds1 my step in resisting this attractive purpose and in preferring beauty to freedom4 ,i hope that ,i shall succeed in convincing you that this matter of art is less foreign to the needs than to the tastes of our age2 nay1 that1 to arrive at a solution even in the political problem1 the road of aesthetics must be pursued1 because it is through beauty that we arrive at freedom4 ,but ,i cannot carry out this proof without my bringing to your remembrance the principles by which the reason is guided in political legislation4 ,,letter ,,iii4 ,man is not better treated by nature in his first start than her other works are2 so long as he is unable to act for himself as an independent intelligence1 she acts for him4 ,but the very fact that constitutes him a man is1 that he does not remain stationary1 where nature has placed him1 that he can pass with his reason1 retracing the steps nature had made him anticipate1 that he can convert the work of necessity into one of free solution1 and elevate physical necessity into a moral law4 ,when man is raised from his slumber in the senses1 he feels that he is a man1 he surveys his surroundings1 and finds that he is in a state4 ,he was introduced into this state1 by the power of circumstances1 before he could freely select his own position4 ,but as a moral being he cannot possibly rest satisfied with a political condition forced upon him by necessity1 and only calculated for that condition2 and it would be unfortunate if this did satisfy him4 ,in many cases man shakes off this blind law of necessity1 by his free spontaneous action1 of which among many others we have an instance1 in his ennobling by beauty and suppressing by moral influence the powerful impulse implanted in him by nature in the passion of love4 ,thus1 when arrived at maturity1 he recovers his childhood by an artificial process1 he founds a state of nature in his ideas1 not given him by any experience1 but established by the necessary laws and conditions of his reason1 and he attributes to this ideal condition an object1 an aim1 of which he was not cognisant in the actual reality of nature4 ,he gives himself a choice of which he was not capable before1 and sets to work just as if he were beginning anew1 and were exchanging his original state of bondage for one of complete independence1 doing this with complete insight and of his free decision4 ,he is justified in regarding this work of political thraldom as non-existing1 though a wild and arbitrary caprice may have founded its work very artfully2 though it may strive to maintain it with great arrogance and encompass it with a halo of veneration4 ,for the work of blind powers possesses no authority1 before which freedom need bow1 and all must be made to adapt itself to the highest end which reason has set up in his personality4 ,it is in this wise that a people in a state of manhood is justified in exchanging a condition of thraldom for one of moral freedom4 ,now the term natural condition can be applied to every political body which owes its establishment originally to forces and not to laws1 and such a state contradicts the moral nature of man1 because lawfulness can alone have authority over this4 ,at the same time this natural condition is quite sufficient for the physical man1 who only gives himself laws in order to get rid of brute force4 ,moreover1 the physical man is a reality1 and the moral man problematical4 ,therefore when the reason suppresses the natural condition1 as she must if she wishes to substitute her own1 she weighs the real physical man against the problematical moral man1 she weighs the existence of society against a possible1 though morally necessary1 ideal of society4 ,she takes from man something which he really possesses1 and without which he possesses nothing1 and refers him as a substitute to something that he ought to possess and might possess2 and if reason had relied too exclusively on him1 she might1 in order to secure him a state of humanity in which he is wanting and can want without injury to his life1 have robbed him even of the means of animal existence which is the first necessary condition of his being a man4 ,before he had opportunity to hold firm to the law with his will1 reason would have withdrawn from his feet the ladder of nature4 ,the great point is therefore to reconcile these two considerations3 to prevent physical society from ceasing for a moment in time1 while the moral society is being formed in the idea2 in other words1 to prevent its existence from being placed in jeopardy1 for the sake of the moral dignity of man4 ,when the mechanic has to mend a watch1 he lets the wheels run out1 but the living watchworks of the state have to be repaired while they act1 and a wheel has to be exchanged for another during its revolutions4 ,accordingly props must be sought for to support society and keep it going while it is made independent of the natural condition from which it is sought to emancipate it4 ,this prop is not found in the natural character of man1 who1 being selfish and violent1 directs his energies rather to the destruction than to the preservation of society4 ,nor is it found in his moral character1 which has to be formed1 which can never be worked upon or calculated on by the lawgiver1 because it is free and never appears4 ,it would seem therefore that another measure must be adopted4 ,it would seem that the physical character of the arbitrary must be separated from moral freedom2 that it is incumbent to make the former harmonise with the laws and the latter dependent on impressions2 it would be expedient to remove the former still farther from matter and to bring the latter somewhat more near to it2 in short to produce a third character related to both the others--the physical and the moral--paving the way to a transition from the sway of mere force to that of law1 without preventing the proper development of the moral character1 but serving rather as a pledge in the sensuous sphere of a morality in the unseen4 ,,letter ,,iv4 ,thus much is certain4 ,it is only when a third character1 as previously suggested1 has preponderance that a revolution in a state according to moral principles can be free from injurious consequences2 nor can anything else secure its endurance4 ,in proposing or setting up a moral state1 the moral law is relied upon as a real power1 and free will is drawn into the realm of causes1 where all hangs together1 mutually with stringent necessity and rigidity4 ,but we know that the condition of the human will always remains contingent1 and that only in the ,absolute ,being physical coexists with moral necessity4 ,accordingly if it is wished to depend on the moral conduct of man as on natural results1 this conduct must become nature1 and he must be led by natural impulse to such a course of action as can only and invariably have moral results4 ,but the will of man is perfectly free between inclination and duty1 and no physical necessity ought to enter as a sharer in this magisterial personality4 ,if therefore he is to retain this power of solution1 and yet become a reliable link in the causal concatenation of forces1 this can only be effected when the operations of both these impulses are presented quite equally in the world of appearances4 ,it is only possible when1 with every difference of form1 the matter of man's volition remains the same1 when all his impulses agreeing with his reason are sufficient to have the value of a universal legislation4 ,it may be urged that every individual man carries1 within himself1 at least in his adaptation and destination1 a purely ideal man4 ,the great problem of his existence is to bring all the incessant changes of his outer life into conformity with the unchanging unity of this ideal4 ,this pure ideal man1 which makes itself known more or less clearly in every subject1 is represented by the state1 which is the objective and1 so to speak1 canonical form in which the manifold differences of the subjects strive to unite4 ,now two ways present themselves to the thought1 in which the man of time can agree with the man of idea1 and there are also two ways in which the state can maintain itself in individuals4 ,one of these ways is when the pure ideal man subdues the empirical man1 and the state suppresses the individual1 or again when the individual ,,becomes the state1 and the man of time is ,,ennobled to the man of idea4 ,i admit that in a one-sided estimate from the point of view of morality this difference vanishes1 for the reason is satisfied if her law prevails unconditionally4 ,but when the survey taken is complete and embraces the whole man 7anthropology71 where the form is considered together with the substance1 and a living feeling has a voice1 the difference will become far more evident4 ,no doubt the reason demands unity1 and nature variety1 and both legislations take man in hand4 ,the law of the former is stamped upon him by an incorruptible consciousness1 that of the latter by an ineradicable feeling4 ,consequently education will always appear deficient when the moral feeling can only be maintained with the sacrifice of what is natural2 and a political administration will always be very imperfect when it is only able to bring about unity by suppressing variety4 ,the state ought not only to respect the objective and generic but also the subjective and specific in individuals2 and while diffusing the unseen world of morals1 it must not depopulate the kingdom of appearance1 the external world of matter4 ,when the mechanical artist places his hand on the formless block1 to give it a form according to his intention1 he has not any scruples in doing violence to it4 ,for the nature on which he works does not deserve any respect in itself1 and he does not value the whole for its parts1 but the parts on account of the whole4 ,when the child of the fine arts sets his hand to the same block1 he has no scruples either in doing violence to it1 he only avoids showing this violence4 ,he does not respect the matter in which he works1 any more than the mechanical artist2 but he seeks by an apparent consideration for it to deceive the eye which takes this matter under its protection4 ,the political and educating artist follows a very different course1 while making man at once his material and his end4 ,in this case the aim or end meets in the material1 and it is only because the whole serves the parts that the parts adapt themselves to the end4 ,the political artist has to treat his material--man--with a very different kind of respect from that shown by the artist of fine art to his work4 ,he must spare man's peculiarity and personality1 not to produce a deceptive effect on the senses1 but objectively and out of consideration for his inner being4 ,but the state is an organisation which fashions itself through itself and for itself1 and for this reason it can only be realised when the parts have been accorded to the idea of the whole4 ,the state serves the purpose of a representative1 both to pure ideal and to objective humanity1 in the breast of its citizens1 accordingly it will have to observe the same relation to its citizens in which they are placed to it1 and it will only respect their subjective humanity in the same degree that it is ennobled to an objective existence4 ,if the internal man is one with himself1 he will be able to rescue his peculiarity1 even in the greatest generalisation of his conduct1 and the state will only become the exponent of his fine instinct1 the clearer formula of his internal legislation4 ,but if the subjective man is in conflict with the objective and contradicts him in the character of the people1 so that only the oppression of the former can give the victory to the latter1 then the state will take up the severe aspect of the law against the citizen1 and in order not to fall a sacrifice1 it will have to crush under foot such a hostile individuality1 without any compromise4 ,now man can be opposed to himself in a twofold manner3 either as a savage1 when his feelings rule over his principles2 or as a barbarian1 when his principles destroy his feelings4 ,the savage despises art1 and acknowledges nature as his despotic ruler2 the barbarian laughs at nature1 and dishonours it1 but he often proceeds in a more contemptible way than the savage1 to be the slave of his senses4 ,the cultivated man makes of nature his friend1 and honours its friendship1 while only bridling its caprice4 ,consequently1 when reason brings her moral unity into physical society1 she must not injure the manifold in nature4 ,when nature strives to maintain her manifold character in the moral structure of society1 this must not create any breach in moral unity2 the victorious form is equally remote from uniformity and confusion4 ,therefore1 ,,totality of character must be found in the people which is capable and worthy to exchange the state of necessity for that of freedom4 ,,letter ,v4 ,does the present age1 do passing events1 present this character8 ,i direct my attention at once to the most prominent object in this vast structure4 ,it is true that the consideration of opinion is fallen1 caprice is unnerved1 and1 although still armed with power1 receives no longer any respect4 ,man has awaked from his long lethargy and self- deception1 and he demands with impressive unanimity to be restored to his imperishable rights4 ,but he does not only demand them2 he rises on all sides to seize by force what1 in his opinion1 has been unjustly wrested from him4 ,the edifice of the natural state is tottering1 its foundations shake1 and a physical possibility seems at length granted to place law on the throne1 to honour man at length as an end1 and to make true freedom the basis of political union4 ,vain hope6 ,the moral possibility is wanting1 and the generous occasion finds an unsusceptible rule4 ,man paints himself in his actions1 and what is the form depicted in the drama of the present time8 ,on the one hand1 he is seen running wild1 on the other in a state of lethargy2 the two extremest stages of human degeneracy1 and both seen in one and the same period4 ,in the lower larger masses1 coarse1 lawless impulses come to view1 breaking loose when the bonds of civil order are burst asunder1 and hastening with unbridled fury to satisfy their savage instinct4 ,objective humanity may have had cause to complain of the state2 yet subjective man must honour its institutions4 ,ought he to be blamed because he lost sight of the dignity of human nature1 so long as he was concerned in preserving his existence8 ,can we blame him that he proceeded to separate by the force of gravity1 to fasten by the force of cohesion1 at a time when there could be no thought of building or raising up8 ,the extinction of the state contains its justification4 ,society set free1 instead of hastening upward into organic life1 collapses into its elements4 ,on the other hand1 the civilized classes give us the still more repulsive sight of lethargy1 and of a depravity of character which is the more revolting because it roots in culture4 ,i forget who of the older or more recent philosophers makes the remark1 that what is more noble is the more revolting in its destruction4 ,the remark applies with truth to the world of morals4 ,the child of nature1 when he breaks loose1 becomes a madman2 but the art scholar1 when he breaks loose1 becomes a debased character4 ,the enlightenment of the understanding1 on which the more refined classes pride themselves with some ground1 shows on the whole so little of an ennobling influence on the mind that it seems rather to confirm corruption by its maxims4 ,we deny nature in her legitimate field and feel her tyranny in the moral sphere1 and while resisting her impressions1 we receive our principles from her4 ,while the affected decency of our manners does not even grant to nature a pardonable influence in the initial stage1 our materialistic system of morals allows her the casting vote in the last and essential stage4 ,egotism has founded its system in the very bosom of a refined society1 and without developing even a sociable character1 we feel all the contagions and miseries of society4 ,we subject our free judgment to its despotic opinions1 our feelings to its bizarre customs1 and our will to its seductions4 ,we only maintain our caprice against her holy rights4 ,the man of the world has his heart contracted by a proud self- complacency1 while that of the man of nature often beats in sympathy2 and every man seeks for nothing more than to save his wretched property from the general destruction1 as it were from some great conflagration4 ,it is conceived that the only way to find a shelter against the aberrations of sentiment is by completely foregoing its indulgence1 and mockery1 which is often a useful chastener of mysticism1 slanders in the same breath the noblest aspirations4 ,culture1 far from giving us freedom1 only develops1 as it advances1 new necessities2 the fetters of the physical close more tightly around us1 so that the fear of loss quenches even the ardent impulse toward improvement1 and the maxims of passive obedience are held to be the highest wisdom of life4 ,thus the spirit of the time is seen to waver between perversions and savagism1 between what is unnatural and mere nature1 between superstition and moral unbelief1 and it is often nothing but the equilibrium of evils that sets bounds to it4 ,,letter ,,vi4 ,have ,i gone too far in this portraiture of our times8 ,i do not anticipate this stricture1 but rather another--that ,i have proved too much by it4 ,you will tell me that the picture ,i have presented resembles the humanity of our day1 but it also bodies forth all nations engaged in the same degree of culture1 because all1 without exception1 have fallen off from nature by the abuse of reason1 before they can return to it through reason4 ,but if we bestow some serious attention to the character of our times1 we shall be astonished at the contrast between the present and the previous form of humanity1 especially that of ,greece4 ,we are justified in claiming the reputation of culture and refinement1 when contrasted with a purely natural state of society1 but not so comparing ourselves with the ,grecian nature4 ,for the latter was combined with all the charms of art and with all the dignity of wisdom1 without1 however1 as with us1 becoming a victim to these influences4 ,the ,greeks put us to shame not only by their simplicity1 which is foreign to our age2 they are at the same time our rivals1 nay1 frequently our models1 in those very points of superiority from which we seek comfort when regretting the unnatural character of our manners4 ,we see that remarkable people uniting at once fulness of form and fulness of substance1 both philosophising and creating1 both tender and energetic1 uniting a youthful fancy2 to the virility of reason in a glorious humanity4 ,at the period of ,greek culture1 which was an awakening of the powers of the mind1 the senses and the spirit had no distinctly separated property2 no division had yet torn them asunder1 leading them to partition in a hostile attitude1 and to mark off their limits with precision4 ,poetry had not yet become the adversary of wit1 nor had speculation abused itself by passing into quibbling4 ,in cases of necessity both poetry and wit could exchange parts1 because they both honoured truth only in their special way4 ,however high might be the flight of reason1 it drew matter in a loving spirit after it1 and1 while sharply and stiffly defining it1 never mutilated what it touched4 ,it is true the ,greek mind displaced humanity1 and recast it on a magnified scale in the glorious circle of its gods2 but it did this not by dissecting human nature1 but by giving it fresh combinations1 for the whole of human nature was represented in each of the gods4 ,how different is the course followed by us moderns6 ,we also displace and magnify individuals to form the image of the specks1 but we do this in a fragmentary way1 not by altered combinations1 so that it is necessary to gather up from different individuals the elements that form the species in its totality4 ,it would almost appear is if the powers of mind express themselves with us in real life or empirically as separately as the psychologist distinguishes them in the representation4 ,for we see not only individual subjects1 but whole classes of men1 uphold their capacities only in part1 while the rest of their faculties scarcely show a germ of activity1 as in the case of the stunted growth of plants4 ,i do not overlook the advantages to which the present race1 regarded as a unity and in the balance of the understanding1 may lay claim over what is best in the ancient world2 but it is obliged to engage in the contest as a compact mass1 and measure itself as a whole against a whole4 ,who among the moderns could step forth1 man against man1 and strive with an ,athenian for the prize of higher humanity8 ,whence comes this disadvantageous relation of individuals coupled with great advantages of the race8 ,why could the individual ,greek be qualified as the type of his time8 and why can no modern dare to offer himself as such8 ,because all-uniting nature imparted its forms to the ,greek1 and an all-dividing understanding gives our forms to us4 ,it was culture itself that gave these wounds to modern humanity4 ,the inner union of human nature was broken1 and a destructive contest divided its harmonious forces directly2 on the one hand1 an enlarged experience and a more distinct thinking necessitated a sharper separation of the sciences1 while on the other hand1 the more complicated machinery of states necessitated a stricter sundering of ranks and occupations4 ,intuitive and speculative understanding took up a hostile attitude in opposite fields1 whose borders were guarded with jealousy and distrust2 and by limiting its operation to a narrow sphere1 men have made unto themselves a master who is wont not unfrequently to end by subduing and oppressing all the other faculties4 ,whilst on the one hand a luxuriant imagination creates ravages in the plantations that have cost the intelligence so much labour1 on the other hand a spirit of abstraction suffocates the fire that might have warmed the heart and inflamed the imagination4 ,this subversion1 commenced by art and learning in the inner man1 was carried out to fulness and finished by the spirit of innovation in government4 ,it was1 no doubt1 reasonable to expect that the simple organisation of the primitive republics should survive the quaintness of primitive manners and of the relations of antiquity4 ,but1 instead of rising to a higher and nobler degree of animal life1 this organisation degenerated into a common and coarse mechanism4 ,the zoophyte condition of the ,grecian states1 where each individual enjoyed an independent life1 and could1 in cases of necessity1 become a separate whole and unit in himself1 gave way to an ingenious mechanism1 when1 from the splitting up into numberless parts1 there results a mechanical life in the combination4 ,then there was a rupture between the state and the church1 between laws and customs2 enjoyment was separated from labour1 the means from the end1 the effort from the reward4 ,man himself eternally chained down to a little fragment of the whole1 only forms a kind of fragment2 having nothing in his ears but the monotonous sound of the perpetually revolving wheel1 he never develops the harmony of his being2 and instead of imprinting the seal of humanity on his being1 he ends by being nothing more than the living impress of the craft to which he devotes himself1 of the science that he cultivates4 ,this very partial and paltry relation1 linking the isolated members to the whole1 does not depend on forms that are given spontaneously2 for how could a complicated machine1 which shuns the light1 confide itself to the free will of man8 ,this relation is rather dictated1 with a rigorous strictness1 by a formulary in which the free intelligence of man is chained down4 ,the dead letter takes the place of a living meaning1 and a practised memory becomes a safer guide than genius and feeling4 ,if the community or state measures man by his function1 only asking of its citizens memory1 or the intelligence of a craftsman1 or mechanical skill1 we cannot be surprised that the other faculties of the mind are neglected1 for the exclusive culture of the one that brings in honour and profit4 ,such is the necessary result of an organisation that is indifferent about character1 only looking to acquirements1 whilst in other cases it tolerates the thickest darkness1 to favour a spirit of law and order2 it must result if it wishes that individuals in the exercise of special aptitudes 'should gain in depth what they are permitted to lose in extension4 ,we are aware1 no doubt1 that a powerful genius does not shut up its activity within the limits of its functions2 but mediocre talents consume in the craft fallen to their lot the whole of their feeble energy2 and if some of their energy is reserved for matters of preference1 without prejudice to its functions1 such a state of things at once bespeaks a spirit soaring above the vulgar4 ,moreover1 it is rarely a recommendation in the eye of a state to have a capacity superior to your employment1 or one of those noble intellectual cravings of a man of talent which contend in rivalry with the duties of office4 ,the state is so jealous of the exclusive possession of its servants that it would prefer--nor can it be blamed in this--for functionaries to show their powers with the ,venus of ,cytherea rather than the ,uranian ,venus4 ,it is thus that concrete individual life is extinguished1 in order that the abstract whole may continue its miserable life1 and the state remains for ever a stranger to its citizens1 because feeling does not discover it anywhere4 ,the governing authorities find themselves compelled to classify1 and thereby simplify1 the multiplicity of citizens1 and only to know humanity in a representative form and at second hand4 ,accordingly they end by entirely losing sight of humanity1 and by confounding it with a simple artificial creation of the understanding1 whilst on their part the subject classes cannot help receiving coldly laws that address themselves so little to their personality4 ,at length society1 weary of having a burden that the state takes so little trouble to lighten1 falls to pieces and is broken up--a destiny that has long since attended most ,european states4 ,they are dissolved in what may be called a state of moral nature1 in which public authority is only one function more1 hated and deceived by those who think it necessary1 respected only by those who can do without it4 ,thus compressed between two forces1 within and without1 could humanity follow any other course than that which it has taken8 ,the speculative mind1 pursuing imprescriptible goods and rights in the sphere of ideas1 must needs have become a stranger to the world of sense1 and lose sight of matter for the sake of form4 ,on its part1 the world of public affairs1 shut up in a monotonous circle of objects1 and even there restricted by formulas1 was led to lose sight of the life and liberty of the whole1 while becoming impoverished at the same time in its own sphere4 ,just as the speculative mind was tempted to model the real after the intelligible1 and to raise the subjective of its imagination into laws constituting the existence of things1 so the state spirit rushed into the opposite extreme1 wished to make a particular and fragmentary experience the measure of all observation1 and to apply without exception to all affairs the rules of its own particular craft4 ,the speculative mind had necessarily to become the prey of a vain subtlety1 the state spirit of a narrow pedantry2 for the former was placed too high to see the individual1 and the latter too low to survey the whole4 ,but the disadvantage of this direction of mind was not confined to knowledge and mental production2 it extended to action and feeling4 ,we know that the sensibility of the mind depends1 as to degree1 on the liveliness1 and for extent on the richness of the imagination4 ,now the predominance of the faculty of analysis must necessarily deprive the imagination of its warmth and energy1 and a restricted sphere of objects must diminish its wealth4 ,it is for this reason that the abstract thinker has very often a cold heart1 because he analyses impressions1 which only move the mind by their combination or totality2 on the other hand1 the man of business1 the statesman1 has very often a narrow heart1 because shut up in the narrow circle of his employment his imagination can neither expand nor adapt itself to another manner of viewing things4 ,my subject has led me naturally to place in relief the distressing tendency of the character of our own times to show the sources of the evil1 without its being my province to point out the compensations offered by nature4 ,i will readily admit to you that1 although this splitting up of their being was unfavourable for individuals1 it was the only road open for the progress of the race4 ,the point at which we see humanity arrived among the ,greeks was undoubtedly a maximum2 it could neither stop there nor rise higher4 ,it could not stop there1 for the sum of notions acquired forced infallibly the intelligence to break with feeling and intuition1 and to lead to clearness of knowledge4 ,nor could it rise any higher2 for it is only in a determinate measure that clearness can be reconciled with a certain degree of abundance and of warmth4 ,the ,greeks had attained this measure1 and to continue their progress in culture1 they1 as we1 were obliged to renounce the totality of their being1 and to follow different and separate roads in order to seek after truth4 ,there was no other way to develop the manifold aptitudes of man than to bring them in opposition with one another4 ,this antagonism of forces is the great instrument of culture1 but it is only an instrument2 for as long as this antagonism lasts1 man is only on the road to culture4 ,it is only because these special forces are isolated in man1 and because they take on themselves to impose an exclusive legislation1 that they enter into strife with the truth of things1 and oblige common sense1 which generally adheres imperturbably to external phaenomena1 to dive into the essence of things4 ,while pure understanding usurps authority in the world of sense1 and empiricism attempts to subject this intellect to the conditions of experience1 these two rival directions arrive at the highest possible development1 and exhaust the whole extent of their sphere4 ,while on the one hand imagination1 by its tyranny1 ventures to destroy the order of the world1 it forces reason1 on the other side1 to rise up to the supreme sources of knowledge1 and to invoke against this predominance of fancy the help of the law of necessity4 ,by an exclusive spirit in the case of his faculties1 the individual is fatally led to error2 but the species is led to truth4 ,it is only by gathering up all the energy of our mind in a single focus1 and concentrating a single force in our being1 that we give in some sort wings to this isolated force1 and that we draw it on artificially far beyond the limits that nature seems to have imposed upon it4 ,if it be certain that all human individuals taken together would never have arrived1 with the visual power given them by nature1 to see a satellite of ,jupiter1 discovered by the telescope of the astronomer1 it is just as well established that never would the human understanding have produced the analysis of the infinite1 or the critique of pure reason1 if in particular branches1 destined for this mission1 reason had not applied itself to special researches1 and if1 after having1 as it were1 freed itself from all matter1 it had not by the most powerful abstraction given to the spiritual eye of man the force necessary1 in order to look into the absolute4 ,but the question is1 if a spirit thus absorbed in pure reason and intuition will be able to emancipate itself from the rigorous fetters of logic1 to take the free action of poetry1 and seize the individuality of things with a faithful and chaste sense8 ,here nature imposes even on the most universal genius a limit it cannot pass1 and truth will make martyrs as long as philosophy will be reduced to make its principal occupation the search for arms against errors4 ,but whatever may be the final profit for the totality of the world1 of this distinct and special perfecting of the human faculties1 it cannot be denied that this final aim of the universe1 which devotes them to this kind of culture1 is a cause of suffering1 and a kind of malediction for individuals4 ,i admit that the exercises of the gymnasium form athletic bodies2 but beauty is only developed by the free and equal play of the limbs4 ,in the same way the tension of the isolated spiritual forces may make extraordinary men2 but it is only the well-tempered equilibrium of these forces that can produce happy and accomplished men4 ,and in what relation should we be placed with past and future ages if the perfecting of human nature made sach a sacrifice indispensable8 ,in that case we should have been the slaves of humanity1 we should have consumed our forces in servile work for it during some thousands of years1 and we should have stamped on our humiliated1 mutilated nature the shameful brand of this slavery--all this in order that future generations1 in a happy leisure1 might consecrate themselves to the cure of their moral health1 and develop the whole of human nature by their free culture4 ,but can it be true that man has to neglect himself for any end whatever8 ,can nature snatch from us2 for any end whatever1 the perfection which is prescribed to us by the aim of reason8 ,it must be false that the perfecting of particular faculties renders the sacrifice of their totality necessary2 and even if the law of nature had imperiously this tendency1 we must have the power to reform by a superior art this totality of our being1 which art has destroyed4 ,,letter ,,vii4 ,can this effect of harmony be attained by the state8 ,that is not possible1 for the state1 as at present constituted1 has given occasion to evil1 and the state as conceived in the idea1 instead of being able to establish this more perfect humanity1 ought to be based upon it4 ,thus the researches in which ,i have indulged would have brought me back to the same point from which they had called me off for a time4 ,the present age1 far from offering us this form of humanity1 which we have acknowledged as a necessary condition of an improvement of the state1 shows us rather the diametrically opposite form4 ,if therefore the principles ,i have laid down are correct1 and if experience confirms the picture ,i have traced of the present time1 it would be necessary to qualify as unseasonable every attempt to effect a similar change in the state1 and all hope as chimerical that would be based on such an attempt1 until the division of the inner man ceases1 and nature has been sufficiently developed to become herself the instrument of this great change and secure the reality of the political creation of reason4 ,in the physical creation1 nature shows us the road that we have to follow in the moral creation4 ,only when the ,struggle of elementary forces has ceased in inferior organisations1 nature rises to the noble form of the physical man4 ,in like manner1 the conflict of the elements of the moral man and that of blind instincts must have ceased1 and a coarse antagonism in himself1 beiore the attempt can be hazarded4 ,on the other hand1 the independence of man's character must be secured1 and his submission to despotic forms must have given place to a suitable liberty1 before the variety in his constitution can be made subordinate to the unity of the ideal4 ,when the man of nature still makes such an anarchical abuse of his will1 his liberty ought hardly to be disclosed to him4 ,and when the man fashioned by culture makes so little use of his freedom1 his free will ought not to be taken from him4 ,the concession of liberal principles becomes a treason to social order when it is associated with a force still in fermentation1 and increases the already exuberant energy of its nature4 ,again1 the law of conformity under one level becomes tyranny to the individual when it is allied to a weakness already holding sway and to natural obstacles1 and when it comes to extinguish the last spark of spontaneity and of originality4 ,the tone of the age must therefore rise from its profound moral degradation2 on the one hand it must emancipate itself from the blind service of nature1 and on the other it must revert to its simplicity1 its truth1 and its fruitful sap2 a sufficient task for more than a century4 ,however1 ,i admit readily1 more than one special effort may meet with success1 but no improvement of the whole will result from it1 and contradictions in action will be a continual protest against the unity of maxims4 ,it will be quite possible1 then1 that in remote corners of the world humanity may be honoured in the person of the negro1 while in ,europe it may be degraded in the person of the thinker4 ,the old principles will remain1 but they will adopt the dress of the age1 and philosophy will lend its name to an oppression that was formerly authorised by the ,church4 ,in one place1 alarmed at the liberty which in its opening efforts always shows itself an enemy1 it will cast itself into the arms of a convenient servitude4 ,in another place1 reduced to despair by a pedantic tutelage1 it will be driven into the savage license of the state of nature4 ,usurpation will invoke the weakness of human nature1 and insurrection will invoke its dignity1 till at length the great sovereign of all human things1 blind force1 shall come in and decide1 like a vulgar pugilist1 this pretended contest of principles4 ,,letter ,,viii4 ,must philosophy therefore retire from this field1 disappointed in its hopes8 ,whilst in all other directions the dominion of forms is extended1 must this the most precious of all gifts be abandoned to a formless chance8 ,must the contest of blind forces last eternally in the political world1 and is social law never to triumph over a hating egotism8 ,not in the least4 ,it is true that reason herself will never attempt directly a struggle with this brutal force which resists her arms1 and she will be as far as the son of ,saturn in the ',iliad' from descending into the dismal field of battle1 to fight them in person4 ,but she chooses the most deserving among the combatants1 clothes him with divine arms as ,jupiter gave them to his son-in-law1 and by her triumphing force she finally decides the victory4 ,reason has done all that she could in finding the law and promulgating it2 it is for the energy of the will and the ardour of feeling to carry it out4 ,to issue victoriously from her contest with force1 truth herself must first become a force1 and turn one of the instincts of man into her champion in the empire of phenomena4 ,for instincts are the only motive forces in the material world4 ,if hitherto truth has so little manifested her victorious power1 this has not depended on the understanding1 which could not have unveiled it1 but on the heart which remained closed to it1 and on instinct which did not act with it4 ,whence1 in fact1 proceeds this general sway of prejudices1 this might of the understanding in the midst of the light disseminated by philosophy and experience8 ,the age is enlightened1 that is to say1 that knowledge1 obtained and vulgarised1 suffices to set right at least our practical principles4 ,the spirit of free inquiry has dissipated the erroneous opinions which long barred the access to truth1 and has undermined the ground on which fanaticism and deception had erected their throne4 ,reason has purified itself from the il lusions of the senses and from a mendacious sophistry1 and philosophy herself raises her voice and exhorts us to return to the bosom of nature1 to which she had first made us unfaithful4 ,whence then is it that we remain still barbarians8 ,there must be something in the spirit of man--as it is not in the objects themselves--which prevents us from receiving the truth1 notwithstanding the brilliant light she diffuses1 and from accepting her1 whatever may be her strength for producing conviction4 ,this something was perceived and expressed by an ancient sage in this very significant maxim3 sapere aude ,footnote3 ,dare to be wise4 ,dare to be wise6 ,a spirited courage is required to triumph over the impediments that the indolence of nature as well as the cowardice of the heart oppose to our in struction4 ,it was not without reason that the ancient ,mythos made ,minerva issue fully armed from the head of ,jupiter1 for it is with warfare that this instruction com mences4 ,from its very outset it has to sustain a hard fight against the senses1 which do not like to be roused from their easy slumber4 ,the greater part of men are much too exhausted and enervated by their struggle with want to be able to engage in a new and severe contest with error4 ,satisfied if they themselves can escape from the hard labour of thought1 they willingly abandon to others the guardianship of their thoughts4 ,and if it happens that nobler necessities agitate their soul1 they cling with a greedy faith to the formulas that the state and the church hold in reserve for such cases4 ,if these unhappy men deserve our compassion1 those others deserve our just contempt1 who1 though set free from those necessities by more fortunate circumstances1 yet willingly bend to their yoke4 ,these latter persons prefer this twilight of obscure ideas2 where the feelings have more intensity1 and the imagination can at will create convenient chimeras1 to the rays of truth which put to flight the pleasant illusions of their dreams4 ,they have founded the whole structure of their happiness on these very illusions1 which ought to be combated and dissipated by the light of knowledge1 and they would think they were paying too dearly for a truth which begins by robbing them of all that has value in their sight4 ,it would be necessary that they should be already sages to love wisdom3 a truth that was felt at once by him to whom philosophy owes its name4 ,footnote3 ,the ,greek word means1 as is known1 love of wisdom4 ,it is therefore not going far enough to say that the light of the understanding only deserves respect when it reacts on the character2 to a certain extent it is from the character that this light proceeds2 for the road that terminates in the head must pass through the heart4 ,accordingly1 the most pressing need of the present time is to educate the sensibility1 because it is the means1 not only to render efficacious in practice the improvement of ideas1 but to call this improvement into existence4 ,,letter ,,ix4 ,but perhaps there is a vicious circle in our previous reasoning8 ,theoretical culture must it seems bring along with it practical culture1 and yet the latter must be the condition of the former4 ,all improvement in the political sphere must proceed from the ennobling of the character4 ,but1 subject to the influence of a social constitution still barbarous1 how can character become ennobled8 ,it would then be necessary to seek for this end an instrument that the state does not furnish1 and to open sources that would have preserved themselves pure in the midst of political corruption4 ,i have now reached the point to which all the considerations tended that have engaged me up to the present time4 ,this instrument is the art of the beautiful2 these sources are open to us in its immortal models4 ,art1 like science1 is emancipated from all that is positive1 and all that is humanly conventional2 both are completely independent of the arbitrary will of men4 ,the political legislator may place their empire under an interdict1 but he cannot reign there4 ,he can proscribe the friend of truth1 but truth subsists2 he can degrade the artist1 but he cannot change art4 ,no doubt1 nothing is more common than to see science and art bend before the spirit of the age1 and creative taste receive its law from critical taste4 ,when the character becomes stiff and hardens itself1 we see science severely keeping her limits1 and art subject to the harsh restraint of rules2 when the character is relaxed and softened1 science endeavours to please and art to rejoice4 ,for whole ages philosophers as well as artists show themselves occupied in letting down truth and beauty to the depths of vulgar humanity4 ,they themselves are swallowed up in it2 but1 thanks to their essential vigour and indestructible life1 the true and the beautiful make a victorious fight1 and issue triumphant from the abyss4 ,no doubt the artist is the child of his time1 but unhappy for him if he is its disciple or even its favourite4 ,let a beneficent deity carry off in good time the suckling from the breast of its mother1 let it nourish him on the milk of a better age1 and suffer him to grow up and arrive at virility under the distant sky of ,greece4 ,when he has attained manhood1 let him come back1 presenting a face strange to his own age2 let him come1 not to delight it with his apparition1 but rather to purify it1 terrible as the son of ,agamemnon4 ,he will1 indeed1 receive his matter from the present time1 but he will borrow the form from a nobler time and even beyond all time1 from the essential1 absolute1 immutable unity4 ,there1 issuing from the pure ether of its heavenly nature1 flows the source of all beauty1 which was never tainted by the corruption of generations or of ages1 which roll along far beneath it in dark eddies4 ,its matter may be dishonoured as well as ennobled by fancy1 but the ever chaste form escapes from the caprices of imagination4 ,the ,roman had already bent his knee for long years to the divinity of the emperors1 and yet the statues of the gods stood erect2 the temples retained their sanctity for the eye long after the gods had become a theme for mockery1 and the noble architecture of the palaces that shielded the infamies of ,nero and of ,commodus were a protest against them4 ,humanity has lost its dignity1 but art has saved it1 and preserves it in marbles full of meaning2 truth continues to live in illusion1 and the copy will serve to re- establish the model4 ,if the nobility of art has survived the nobility of nature1 it also goes before it like an inspiring genius1 forming and awakening minds4 ,before truth causes her triumphant light to penetrate into the depth of the heart1 poetry intercepts her rays1 and the summits of humanity shine in a bright light1 while a dark and humid night still hangs over the valleys4 ,but how will the artist avoid the corruption of his time which encloses him on all hands8 ,let him raise his eyes to his own dignity1 and to law2 let him not lower them to necessity and fortune4 ,equally exempt from a vain activity which would imprint its trace on the fugitive moment1 and from the dreams of an impatient enthusiasm which applies the measure of the absolute to the paltry productions of time1 let the artist abandon the real to the understanding1 for that is its proper field4 ,but let the artist endeavour to give birth to the ideal by the union of the possible and of the necessary4 ,let him stamp illusion and truth with the effigy of this ideal2 let him apply it to the play of his imagination and his most serious actions1 in short1 to all sensuous and spiritual forms2 then let him quietly launch his work into infinite time4 ,but the minds set on fire by this ideal have not all received an equal share of calm from the creative genius--that great and patient temper which is required to impress the ideal on the dumb marble1 or to spread it over a page of cold1 sober letters1 and then entrust it to the faithful hands of time4 ,this divine instinct1 and creative force1 much too ardent to follow this peaceful walk1 often throws itself immediately on the present1 on active life1 and strives to transform the shapeless matter of the moral world4 ,the misfortune of his brothers1 of the whole species1 appeals loudly to the heart of the man of feeling2 their abasement appeals still louder2 enthusiasm is inflamed1 and in souls endowed with energy the burning desire aspires impatiently to action and facts4 ,but has this innovator examined himself to see if these disorders of the moral world wound his reason1 or if they do not rather wound his self-love8 ,if he does not determine this point at once1 he will find it from the impulsiveness with which he pursues a prompt and definite end4 ,a pure1 moral motive has for its end the absolute2 time does not exist for it1 and the future becomes the present to it directly1 by a necessary development1 it has to issue from the present4 ,to a reason having no limits the direction towards an end becomes confounded with the accomplishment of this end1 and to enter on a course is to have finished it4 ,if1 then1 a young friend of the true and of the beautiful were to ask me how1 notwithstanding the resistance of the times1 he can satisfy the noble longing of his heart1 ,i should reply3 ,direct the world on which you act towards that which is good1 and the measured and peaceful course of time will bring about the results4 ,you have given it this direction if by your teaching you raise its thoughts towards the necessary and the eternal2 if1 by your acts or your creations1 you make the necessary and the eternal the object of your leanings4 ,the structure of error and of all that is arbitrary1 must fall1 and it has already fallen1 as soon as you are sure that it is tottering4 ,but it is important that it should not only totter in the external but also in the internal man4 ,cherish triumphant truth in the modest sanctuary of your heart2 give it an incarnate form through beauty1 that it may not only be the understanding that does homage to it1 but that feeling may lovingly grasp its appearance4 ,and that you may not by any chance take from external reality the model which you yourself ought to furnish1 do not venture into its dangerous society before you are assured in your own heart that you have a good escort furnished by ideal nature4 ,live with your age1 but be not its creation2 labour for your contemporaries1 but do for them what they need1 and not what they praise4 ,without having shared their faults1 share their punishment with a noble resignation1 and bend under the yoke which they find is as painful to dispense with as to bear4 ,by the constancy with which you will despise their good fortune1 you will prove to them that it is not through cowardice that you submit to their sufferings4 ,see them in thought such as they ought to be when you must act upon them2 but see them as they are when you are tempted to act for them4 ,seek to owe their suffrage to their dignity2 but to make them happy keep an account of their unworthiness2 thus1 on the one hand1 the nobleness of your heart will kindle theirs1 and1 on the other1 your end will not be reduced to nothingness by their unworthiness4 ,the gravity of your principles will keep them off from you1 but in play they will still endure them4 ,their taste is purer than their heart1 and it is by their taste you must lay hold of this suspicious fugitive4 ,in vain will you combat their maxims1 in vain will you condemn their actions2 but you can try your moulding hand on their leisure4 ,drive away caprice1 frivolity1 and coarseness1 from their pleasures1 and you will banish them imperceptibly from their acts1 and at length from their feelings4 ,everywhere that you meet them1 surround them with great1 noble1 and ingenious forms2 multiply around them the symbols of perfection1 till appearance triumphs over reality1 and art over nature4 ,,letter ,x4 ,convinced by my preceding letters1 you agree with me on this point1 that man can depart from his destination by two opposite roads1 that our epoch is actually moving on these two false roads1 and that it has become the prey1 in one case1 of coarseness1 and elsewhere of exhaustion and de pravity4 ,it is the beautiful that must bring it back from this twofold departure4 ,but how can the cultivation of the fine arts remedy1 at the same time1 these opposite defects1 and unite in itself two contradictory qualities8 ,can it bind nature in the savage1 and set it free in the barbarian8 ,can it at once tighten a spring and loose it1 and if it cannot produce this double effect1 how will it be reasonable to expect from it so important a result as the education of man8 ,it may be urged that it is almost a proverbial adage that the feeling developed by the beautiful refines manners1 and any new proof offered on the subject would appear superfluous4 ,men base this maxim on daily experience1 which shows us almost always clearness of intellect1 deli cacy of feeling1 liberality and even dignity of conduct1 associated with a cultivated taste1 while an uncultivated taste is almost always accompanied by the opposite qualities4 ,with considerable assurance1 the most civilised nation of antiquity is cited as an evidence of this1 the ,greeks1 among whom the perception of the beautiful attained its highest development1 and1 as a contrast1 it is usual to point to nations in a partial savage state1 and partly barbarous1 who expiate their insensibility to the beautiful by a coarse or1 at all events1 a hard austere character4 ,nevertheless1 some thinkers are tempted occasionally to deny either the fact itself or to dispute the legitimacy of the consequences that are derived from it4 ,they do not entertain so unfavourable an opinion of that savage coarseness which is made a reproach in the case of certain nations2 nor do they form so advantageous an opinion of the refinement so highly lauded in the case of cultivated nations4 ,even as far back as in antiquity there were men who by no means regarded the culture of the liberal arts as a benefit1 and who were consequently led to forbid the entrance of their republic to imagination4 ,i do not speak of those who calumniate art1 because they have never been favoured by it4 ,these persons only appreciate a possession by the trouble it takes to acquire it1 and by the profit it brings2 and how could they properly appreciate the silent labour of taste in the exterior and in terior man8 ,how evident it is that the accidental disadvantages attending liberal culture would make them lose sight of its essential advantages6 ,the man deficient in form despises the grace of diction as a means of corruption1 courtesy in the social relations as dissimulation1 delicacy and generosity in conduct as an affected exaggeration4 ,he cannot forgive the favourite of the ,graces for having enlivened all assemblies as a man of the world1 of having directed all men to his views like a statesman1 and of giving his impress to the whole century as a writer2 while he1 the victim of labour1 can only obtain1 with all his learning1 the least attention or overcome the least difficulty4 ,as he cannot learn from his fortunate rival the secret of pleasing1 the only course open to him is to deplore the corruption of human nature1 which adores rather the appearance than the reality4 ,but there are also opinions deserving respect1 that pronounce themselves adverse to the effects of the beautiful1 and find formidable arms in experience1 with which to wage war against it4 ,we are free to admit--such is their language--that the charms of the beautiful can further honourable ends in pure hands2 but it is not repugnant to its nature to produce1 in impure hands1 a directly contrary effect1 and to employ in the service of injustice and error the power that throws the soul of man into chains4 ,it is exactly because taste only attends to the form and never to the substance2 it ends by placing the soul on the dangerous incline1 leading it to neglect all reality and to sacrifice truth and morality to an attractive envelope4 ,all the real difference of things vanishes1 and it is only the appearance that determines their value6 ,how many men of talent--thus these arguers proceed--have been turned aside from all effort by the seductive power of the beautiful1 or have been led away from all serious exercise of their activity1 or have been induced to use it very feebly8 ,how many weak minds have been impelled to quarrel with the organisation of society1 simply because it has pleased the imagination of poets to present the image of a world constituted differently1 where no propriety chains down opinion and no artifice helds nature in thraldom8 ,what a dangerous logic of the passions they have learned since the poets have painted them in their pictures in the most brilliant colours and since1 in the contest with law and duty1 they have commonly re mained masters of the battlefield4 ,what has society gained by the relations of society1 formerly under the sway of truth1 being now subject to the laws of the beautiful1 or by the external impression deciding the estimation in which merit is to be held8 ,we admit that all virtues whose appearance produces an agreeable effect are now seen to flourish1 and those which1 in society1 give a value to the man who possesses them4 ,but1 as a compensation1 all kinds of excesses are seen to prevail1 and all vices are in vogue that can be reconciled with a graceful exterior4 ,it is certainly a matter entitled to reflection that1 at almost all the periods of history when art flourished and taste held sway1 humanity is found in a state of decline2 nor can a single instance be cited of the union of a large diffusion of aesthetic culture with political liberty and social virtue1 of fine manners associated with good morals1 and of politeness fraternising with truth and loyalty of character and life4 ,as long as ,athens and ,sparta preserved their independence1 and as long as their institutions were based on respect for the laws1 taste did not reach its maturity1 art remained in its infancy1 and beauty was far from exer cising her empire over minds4 ,no doubt1 poetry had already taken a sublime flight1 but it was on the wings of genius1 and we know that genius borders very closely on savage coarseness1 that it is a light which shines readily in the midst of darkness1 and which therefore often argues against rather than in favour of the taste of the time4 ,when the golden age of art appears under ,pericles and ,alexander1 and the sway of taste becomes more general1 strength and liberty have abandoned ,greece2 eloquence corrupts the truth1 wisdom offends it on the lips of ,socrates1 and virtue in the life of ,phocion4 ,it is well known that the ,romans had to exhaust their energies in civil wars1 and1 corrupted by ,oriental luxury1 to bow their heads under the yoke of a fortunate despot1 before ,grecian art triumphed over the stiffness of their character4 ,the same was the case with the ,arabs3 civilisation only dawned upon them when the vigour of their military spirit became softened under the sceptre of the ,abbassides4 ,art did not appear in modern ,italy till the glorious ,lombard ,league was dissolved1 ,florence submitting to the ,medici1 and all those brave cities gave up the spirit of independ ence for an inglorious resignation4 ,it is almost super fluous to call to mind the example of modern nations1 with whom refinement has increased in direct proportion to the decline of their liberties4 ,wherever we direct our eyes in past times1 we see taste and freedom mutually avoiding each other4 ,everywhere we see that the beautiful only founds its sway on the ruins of heroic virtues4 ,and yet this strength of character1 which is commonly sacrificed to establish aesthetic culture1 is the most power ful spring of all that is great and excellent in man1 and no other advantage1 however great1 can make up for it4 ,accordingly1 if we only keep to the experiments hitherto made1 as to the influence of the beautiful1 we cannot certainly be much encouraged in developing feelings so dangerous to the real culture of man4 ,at the risk of being hard and coarse1 it will seem preferable to dispense with this dissolving force of the beautiful1 rather than see human nature a prey to its enervating influence1 notwithstanding all its refining advantages4 ,however1 experience is perhaps not the proper tribunal at which to decide such a question2 before giving so much weight to its testimony1 it would be well to inquire if the beauty we have been discussing is the power that is condemned by the previous examples4 ,and the beauty we are discussing seems to assume an idea of the beautiful derived from a source different from experience1 for it is this higher notion of the beautiful which has to decide if what is called beauty by experience is entitled to the name4 ,this pure and rational idea of the beautiful--supposing it can be placed in evidence--cannot be taken from any real and special case1 and must1 on the contrary1 direct and give sanction to our judgment in each special case4 ,it must therefore be sought for by a process of abstraction1 and it ought to be deduced from the simple possibility of a nature both sensuous and rational2 in short1 beauty ought to present itself as a necessary condition of humanity4 ,it is therefore essential that we should rise to the pure idea of humanity1 and as experience shows us nothing but individuals1 in particular cases1 and never humanity at large1 we must endeavour to find in their individual and variable mode of being the absolute and the permanent1 and to grasp the necessary conditions of their existence1 suppressing all accidental limits4 ,no doubt this transcendental procedure will remove us for some time from the familiar circle of phaenomena and the living presence of objects1 to keep us on the unproductive ground of abstract ideas2 but we are engaged in the search after a principle of knowledge solid enough not to be shaken by anything1 and the man who does not dare to rise above reality will never conquer this truth4 ,,letter ,,xi4 ,if abstraction rises to as great an eievation as possible1 it arrives at two primary ideas1 before which it is obliged to stop and to recognise its limits4 ,it distinguishes in man something that continues1 and something that changes in cessantly4 ,that which continues it names his person2 that which changes his position1 his condition4 ,the person and the condition1 ,i and my determinations1 which we represent as one and the same thing in the neces sary being1 are eternally distinct in the finite being4 ,not withstanding all continuance in the person1 the condition changes2 in spite of all change of condition1 the person remains4 ,we pass from rest to activity1 from emotion to indifference1 from assent to contradiction1 but we are always we ourselves1 and what immediately springs from ourselves remains4 ,it is only in the absolute subject that all his determinations continue with his personality4 ,all that ,divinity is1 it is because it is so2 consequently it is eternally what it is1 because it is eternal4 ,as the person and the condition are distinct in man1 be cause he is a finite being1 the condition cannot be founded on the person1 nor the person on the condition4 ,admitting the second case1 the person would have to change2 and in the former case1 the condition would have to continue4 ,thus in either supposition either the personality or the quality of a finite being would necessarily cease4 ,it is not because we think1 feel1 and will1 that we are2 it is not because we are that we think1 feel1 and will4 ,we are because we are4 ,we feel1 think1 and will1 because there is out of us something that is not ourselves4 ,consequently the person must have its principle of exist ence in itself because the permanent cannot be derived from the changeable1 and thus we should be at once in possession of the idea of the absolute being1 founded on itself2 that is to say1 of the idea of freedom4 ,the condition must have a foundation1 and as it is not through the person1 and is not therefore absolute1 it must be a sequence and a result2 and thus1 in the second place1 we should have arrived at the condition of every dependent being1 of everything in the process of becoming something else3 that is1 of the idea of time4 ,time is the necessary condition of all processes1 of becoming 7werden72 this is an indentical proposition1 for it says nothing but this3 ,that something may follow1 there must be a succession4 ,the person which manifests itself in the eternally continuing ,ego1 or ,i myself1 and only in him1 cannot become something or begin in time1 because it is much rather time that must begin with him1 because the permanent must serve as basis to the changeable4 ,that change may take place1 something must change2 this something cannot therefore be the change itself4 ,when we say the flower opens and fades1 we make of this flower a permanent being in the midst of this transformation2 we lend it1 in some sort1 a personality1 in which these two conditions are manifested4 ,it cannot be objected that man is born1 and becomes something2 for man is not only a person simply1 but he is a person finding himself in a determinate condition4 ,now our determinate state of condition springs up in time1 and it is thus that man1 as a phenomenon or appearance1 must have a beginning1 though in him pure intelligence is eternal4 ,without time1 that is1 without a becoming1 he would not be a determinate being2 his personality would exist virtually1 no doubt1 but not in action4 ,it is not by the succession of its perceptions that the immutable ,ego or person manifests himself to himself4 ,thus1 therefore1 the matter of activity1 or reality1 that the supreme intelligence draws from its own being1 must be received by man2 and he does1 in fact1 receive it1 through the medium of perception1 as something which is outside him in space1 and which changes in him in time4 ,this matter which changes in him is always accompanied by the ,ego1 the personality1 that never changes2 and the rule prescribed for man by his rational nature is to remain immutably himself in the midst of change1 to refer all perceptions to experience1 that is1 to the unity of knowledge1 and to make of each of its manifestations of its modes in time the law of all time4 ,the matter only exists in as far as it changes2 he1 his personality1 only exists in as far as he does not change4 ,consequently1 represented in his perfection1 man would be the permanent unity1 which remains always the same1 among the waves of change4 ,now1 although an infinite being1 a divinity could not become 7or be subject to time71 still a tendency ought to be named divine which has for its infinite end the most characteristic attribute of the divinity2 the absolute manifestation of power--the reality of all the possible--and the absolute unity of the manifestation 7the necessity of all reality74 ,it cannot be disputed that man bears within himself1 in his personality1 a predisposition for divinity4 ,the way to divinity--if the word way can be applied to what never leads to its end-is open to him in every direction4 ,considered in itself and independently of all sensuous matter1 his personality is nothing but the pure virtuality of a possible infinite manifestation1 and so long as there is neither intuition nor feeling1 it is nothing more than a form1 an empty power4 ,considered in itself1 and independently of all spontaneous activity of the mind1 sensuousness can only make a material man2 without it1 it is a pure form2 but it cannot in any way establish a union between matter and it4 ,so long as he only feels1 wishes1 and acts under the influence of desire1 he is nothing more than the world1 if by this word we point out only the formless contents of time4 ,without doubt1 it is only his sensuousness that makes his strength pass into efficacious acts1 but it is his personality alone that makes this activity his own4 ,thus1 that he may not only be a world1 he must give form to matter1 and in order not to be a mere form1 he must give reality to the virtuality that he bears in him4 ,he gives matter to form by creating time1 and by opposing the immutable to change1 the diversity of the world to the eternal unity of the ,ego4 ,he gives a form to matter by again suppressing time1 by maintaining permanence in change1 and by placing the diversity of the world under the unity of the ,ego4 ,now from this source issue for man two opposite exigencies1 the two fundamental laws of sensuous-rational nature4 ,the first has for its object absolute reality2 it must make a world of what is only form1 manifest all that in it is only a force4 ,the second law has for its object absolute formality2 it must destroy in him all that is only world1 and carry out harmony in all changes4 ,in other terms1 he must manifest all that is internal1 and give form to all that is external4 ,considered in its most lofty accomplishment1 this twofold labour brings us back to the idea of humanity which was my starting- point4 ,,letter ,,xii4 ,this twofold labour or task1 which consists in making the necessary pass into reality in us and in making out of us reality subject to the law of necessity1 is urged upon us as a duty by two opposing forces1 which are justly styled impulsions or instincts1 because they impel us to realise their object4 ,the first of these impulsions1 which ,i shall call the sensuous instinct1 issues from the physical existence of roan1 or from sensuous nature2 and it is this instinct which tends to enclose him in the limits of time and to make of him a material being2 ,i do not say to give him matter1 for to do that a certain free activity of the personality would be necessary1 which1 receiving matter1 distinguishes it from the ,ego1 or what is permanent4 ,by matter ,i only understand in this place the change or reality that fills time4 ,consequently the instinct requires that there should be change1 and that time should contain something4 ,this simply filled state of time is named sensation1 and it is only in this state that physical existence manifests itself4 ,as all that is in time is successive1 it follows by that fact alone that something is3 all the remainder is excluded4 ,when one note on an instrument is touched1 among all those that it virtually offers1 this note alone is real4 ,when man is actually modified1 the infinite possibility of all his modifications is limited to this single mode of existence4 ,thus1 then1 the exclusive action of sensuous impulsion has for its necessary consequence the narrowest limitation4 ,in this state man is only a unity of magnitude1 a complete moment in time2 or1 to speak more correctly1 he is not1 for his personality is suppressed as long as sensation holds sway over him and carries time along with it4 ,this instinct extends its domains over the entire sphere of the finite in man1 and as form is only revealed in matter1 and the absolute by means of its limits1 the total manifestation of human nature is connected on a close analysis with the sensuous instinct4 ,but though it is only this instinct that awakens and develops what exists virtually in man1 it is nevertheless this very instinct which renders his perfection impossible4 ,it binds down to the world of sense by indestructible ties the spirit that tends higher and it calls back to the limits of the present1 abstraction ,which had its free development in the sphere of the infinite4 ,no doubt1 thought can escape it for a moment1 and a firm will victoriously resists its exigencies2 but soon compressed nature resumes her rights to give an imperious reality to our existence1 to give it contents1 substance1 knowledge1 and an aim for our activity4 ,the second impulsion1 which may be named the formal instinct1 issues from the absolute existence of man1 or from his rational nature1 and tends to set free1 and bring harmony into the diversity of its manifestations1 and to maintain personality notwithstanding all the changes of state4 ,as this personality1 being an absolute and indivisible unity1 can never be in contradiction with itself1 as we are ourselves for ever1 this impulsion1 which tends to maintain personality1 can never exact in one time anything but what it exacts and requires for ever4 ,it therefore decides for always what it decides now1 and orders now what it orders for ever4 ,hence it embraces the whole series of times1 or what comes to the same thing1 it suppresses time and change4 ,it wishes the real to be necessary and eternal1 and it wishes the eternal and the necessary to be real2 in other terms1 it tends to truth and justice4 ,if the sensuous instinct only produces ,,accidents1 the formal instinct gives laws1 laws for every judgment when it is a question of knowledge1 laws for every will when it is a question of action4 ,whether1 therefore1 we recognise an object or conceive an objective value to a state of the subject1 whether we act in virtue of knowledge or make of the objective the determining principle of our state2 in both cases we withdraw this state from the jurisdiction of time1 and we attribute to it reality for all men and for all time1 that is1 universality and necessity4 ,feeling can only say3 ,that is true ,,for ,,this ,,subject ,,and ,,at ,,this ,,moment1 and there may come another moment1 another subject1 which withdraws the affirmation from the actual feeling4 ,but when once thought pronounces and says3 ,,that ,,is it decides for ever and ever1 and the validity of its decision is guaranteed by the personality itself1 which defies all change4 ,inclination can only say3 ,that is good ,,for ,,your ,,individuality and ,,present ,,necessity8 but the changing current of affairs will sweep them away1 and what you ardently desire to-day will form the object of your aversion to-morrow4 ,but when the moral feeling says3 ,that ought to be1 it decides for ever4 ,if you confess the truth because it is the truth1 and if you practice justice because it is justice1 you have made of a particular case the law of all possible cases1 and treated one moment of your life as eternity4 ,accordingly1 when the formal impulse holds sway and the pure object acts in us1 the being attains its highest expansion1 all barriers disappear1 and from the unity of magnitude in which man was enclosed by a narrow sensuousness1 he rises to the ,,unity ,,of ,,idea1 which embraces and keeps subject the entire sphere of phenomena4 ,during this operation we are no longer in time1 but time is in us with its infinite succession4 ,we are no longer individuals but a species2 the judgment of all spirits is expressed by our own1 and the choice of all hearts is represented by our own act4 ,,letter ,,xiii4 ,on a first survey1 nothing appears more opposed than these two impulsions2 one having for its object change1 the other immutability1 and yet it is these two notions that exhaust the notion of humanity1 and a third ,,fundamental ,,impulsion1 holding a medium between them1 is quite inconceivable4 ,how then shall we re- establish the unity of human nature1 a unity that appears completely destroyed by this primitive and radical opposition8 ,i admit these two tendencies are contradictory1 but it should be noticed that they are not so in the ,,same ,,objects4 ,but things that do not meet cannot come into collision4 ,no doubt the sensuous impulsion desires change2 but it does not wish that it should extend to personality and its field1 nor that there should be a change of principles4 ,the formal impulsion seeks unity and permanence1 but it does not wish the condition to remain fixed with the person1 that there should be identity of feeling4 ,therefore these two impulsions are not divided by nature1 and if1 nevertheless1 they appear so1 it is because they have become divided by transgressing nature freely1 by ignoring themselves1 and by confounding their spheres4 ,the office of culture is to watch over them and to secure to each one its proper ,,limits2 therefore culture has to give equal justice to both1 and to defend not only the rational impulsion against the sensuous1 but also the latter against the former4 ,hence she has to act a twofold part3 first1 to protect sense against the attacks of freedom2 secondly1 to secure personality against the power of sensations4 ,one of these ends is attained by the cultivation of the sensuous1 the other by that of the reason4 ,since the world is developed in time1 or change1 the perfection of the faculty that places men in relation with the world will necessarily be the greatest possible mutability and extensiveness4 ,since personality is permanence in change1 the perfection of this faculty1 which must be opposed to change1 will be the greatest possible freedom of action 7autonomy7 and intensity4 ,the more the receptivity is developed under manifold aspects1 the more it is movable and offers surfaces to phaenomena1 the larger is the part of the world seized upon by man1 and the more virtualities he develops in himself4 ,again1 in proportion as man gains strength and depth1 and depth and reason gain in freedom1 in that proportion man ,,takes ,,in a larger share of the world1 and throws out forms outside himself4 ,therefore his culture will consist1 first1 in placing his receptivity on contact with the world in the greatest number of points possible1 and is raising passivity to the highest exponent on the side of feeling2 secondly1 in procuring for the determining faculty the greatest possible amount of independence1 in relation to the receptive power1 and in raising activity to the highest degree on the side of reason4 ,by the union of these two qualities man will associate the highest degree of self-spontaneity 7autonomy7 and of freedom with the fullest plenitude of existence1 and instead of abandoning himself to the world so as to get lost in it1 he will rather absorb it in himself1 with all the infinitude of its phenomena1 and subject it to the unity of his reason4 ,but man can invert this relation1 and thus fail in attaining his destination in two ways4 ,he can hand over to the passive force the intensity demanded by the active force2 he can encroach by material impulsion on the formal impulsion1 and convert the receptive into the determining power4 ,he can attribute to the active force the extensiveness belonging to the passive force1 he can encroach by the formal impulsion on the material impulsion1 and substitute the determining for the receptive power4 ,in the former case1 he will never be an ,ego1 a personality2 in the second case1 he will never be a ,non-,ego1 and hence in both cases he will be ,,neither ,,one ,,nor ,,the ,,other1 consequently he will nothing4 ,in fact1 if the sensuous impulsion becomes determining1 if the senses become law-givers1 and if the world stifles personality1 he loses as object what he gains in force4 ,it may be said of man that when he is only the contents of time1 he is not and consequently ,,he ,,has no other contents4 ,his condition is destroyed at the same time as his personality1 because these are two correlative ideas1 because change presupposes permanence1 and a limited reality implies an infinite reality4 ,if the formal impulsion becomes receptive1 that is1 if thought anticipates sensation1 and the person substitutes itself in the place of the world1 it loses as a subject and autonomous force what it gains as object1 because immutability implies change1 and that to manifest itself also absolute reality requires limits4 ,as soon as man is only form1 he has no form1 and the personality vanishes with the condition4 ,in a word1 it is only inasmuch as he is spontaneous1 autonomous1 that there is reality out of him1 that he is also receptive2 and it is only inasmuch as he is receptive that there is reality in him1 that he is a thinking force4 ,consequently these two impulsions require limits1 and looked upon as forces1 they need tempering2 the former that it may not encroach on the field of legislation1 the latter that it may not invade the ground of feeling4 ,but this tempering and moderating the sensuous impulsion ought not to be the effect of physical impotence or of a blunting of sensations1 which is always a matter for contempt4 ,it must be a free act1 an activity of the person1 which by its moral intensity moderates the sensuous intensity1 and by the sway of impressions takes from them in depth what it gives them in surface or breadth4 ,the character must place limits to temperament1 for the senses have only the right to lose elements if it be to the advantage of the mind4 ,in its turn1 the tempering of the formal impulsion must not result from moral impotence1 from a relaxation of thought and will1 which would degrade humanity4 ,it is necessary that the glorious source of this second tempering should be the fulness of sensations2 it is necessary that sensuousness itself should defend its field with a victorious arm and resist the violence that the invading activity of the mind would do to it4 ,in a word1 it is necessary that the material impulsion should be contained in the limits of propriety by personality1 and the formal impulsion by receptivity or nature4 ,,letter ,,xiv4 ,we have been brought to the idea of such a correlation between the two impulsions that the action of the one establishes and limits at the same time the action of the other1 and that each of them1 taken in isolation1 does arrive at its highest manifestation just because the other is active4 ,no doubt this correlation of the two impulsions is simply a problem advanced by reason1 and which man will only be able to solve in the perfection of his being4 ,it is in the strictest signification of the term3 the idea of his humanity2 accordingly1 it is an infinite to which he can approach nearer and nearer in the course of time1 but without ever reaching it4 ,he ought not to aim at form to the injury of reality1 nor to reality to the detriment of the form4 ,he must rather seek the absolute being by means of a determinate being1 and the determinate being by means of an infinite being4 ,he must set the world before him because he is a person1 and he must be a person because he has the world before him4 ,he must feel because he has a consciousness of himself1 and he must have a consciousness of himself because he feels4 ,it is only in conformity with this idea that he is a man in the full sense of the word2 but he cannot be convinced of this so long as he gives himself up exclusively to one of these two impulsions1 or only satisfies them one after the other4 ,for as long as he only feels1 his absolute personality and existence remain a mystery to him1 and as long as he only thinks1 his condition or existence in time escapes him4 ,but if there were cases in which he could have at once this twofold experience in which he would have the consciousness of his freedom and the feeling of his existence together1 in which he would simultaneously feel as matter and know himself as spirit1 in such cases1 and in such only1 would he have a complete intuition of his humanity1 and the object that would procure him this intuition would be a symbol of his accomplished destiny1 and consequently serve to express the infinite to him--since this destination can only be fulfilled in the fulness of time4 ,presuming that cases of this kind could present themselves in experience1 they would awake in him a new impulsion1 which1 precisely because the two other impulsions would co-operate in it1 would be opposed to each of them taken in isolation1 and might1 with good grounds1 be taken for a new impulsion4 ,the sensuous impulsion requires that there should be change1 that time should have contents2 the formal impulsion requires that time should be suppressed1 that there should be no change4 ,consequently1 the impulsion in which both of the others act in concert--allow me to call it the instinct of play1 till ,i explain the term--the instinct of play would have as its object to suppress time in time to conciliate the state of transition or becoming with the absolute being1 change with identity4 ,the sensuous instinct wishes to be determined1 it wishes to receive an object2 the formal instinct wishes to determine itself1 it wishes to produce an object4 ,therefore the instinct of play will endeavor to receive as it would itself have produced1 and to produce as it aspires to receive4 ,the sensuous impulsion excludes from its subject all autonomy and freedom2 the formal impulsion excludes all dependence and passivity4 ,but the exclusion of freedom is physical necessity2 the exclusion of passivity is moral necessity4 ,thus the two impulsions subdue the mind3 the former to the laws of nature1 the latter to the laws of reason4 ,it results from this that the instinct of play1 which unites the double action of the two other instincts1 will content the mind at once morally and physically4 ,hence1 as it suppresses all that is contingent1 it will also suppress all coercion1 and will set man free physically and morally4 ,when we welcome with effusion some one who deserves our contempt1 we feel painfully that nature is constrained4 ,when we have a hostile feeling against a person who commands our esteem1 we feel painfully the constraint of reason4 ,but if this person inspires us with interest1 and also wins our esteem1 the constraint of feeling vanishes together with the constraint of reason1 and we begin to love him1 that is to say1 to play1 to take recreation1 at once with our inclination and our esteem4 ,moreover1 as the sensuous impulsion controls us physically1 and the formal impulsion morally1 the former makes our formal constitution contingent1 and the latter makes our material constitution contingent1 that is to say1 there is contingence in the agreement of our happiness with our perfection1 and reciprocally4 ,the instinct of play1 in which both act in concert1 will render both our formal and our material constitution contingent2 accordingly1 our perfection and our happiness in like manner4 ,and on the other hand1 exactly because it makes both of them contingent1 and because the contingent disappears with necessity1 it will suppress this contingence in both1 and will thus give form to matter and reality to form4 ,in proportion that it will lessen the dynamic influence of feeling and passion1 it will place them in harmony with rational ideas1 and by taking from the laws of reason their moral constraint1 it will reconcile them with the interest of the senses4 ,,letter ,,xv4 ,i approach continually nearer to the end to which ,i lead you1 by a path offering few attractions4 ,be pleased to follow me a few steps further1 and a large horizon will open up to you and a delightful prospect will reward you for the labour of the way4 ,the object of the sensuous instinct1 expressed in a universal conception1 is named ,life in the widest acceptation3 a conception that expresses all material existence and all that is immediately present in the senses4 ,the object of the formal instinct1 expressed in a universal conception1 is called shape or form1 as well in an exact as in an inexact acceptation2 a conception that embraces all formal qualities of things and all relations of the same to the thinking powers4 ,the object of the play instinct1 represented in a general statement1 may therefore bear the name of living form2 a term that serves to describe all aesthetic qualities of phaenomena1 and what people style1 in the widest sense1 beauty4 ,beauty is neither extended to the whole field of all living things nor merely enclosed in this field4 ,a marble block1 though it is and remains lifeless1 can nevertheless become a living form by the architect and sculptor2 a man1 though he lives and has a form1 is far from being a living form on that account4 ,for this to be the case1 it is necessary that his form should be life1 and that his life should be a form4 ,as long as we only think of his form1 it is lifeless1 a mere abstraction2 as long as we only feel his life1 it is without form1 a mere impression4 ,it is only when his form lives in our feeling1 and his life in our understanding1 he is the living form1 and this will everywhere be the case where we judge him to be beautiful4 ,but the genesis of beauty is by no means declared because we know how to point out the component parts1 which in their combination produce beauty4 ,for to this end it would be necessary to comprehend that combination itself1 which continues to defy our exploration1 as well as all mutual operation between the finite and the infinite4 ,the reason1 on transcendental grounds1 makes the following demand3 ,there shall be a communion between the formal impulse and the material impulse-that is1 there shall be a play instinct--because it is only the unity of reality with the form1 of the accidental with the necessary1 of the passive state with freedom1 that the conception of humanity is completed4 ,reason is obliged to make this demand1 because her nature impels her to completeness and to the removal of all bounds2 while every exclusive activity of one or the other impulse leaves human nature incomplete and places a limit in it4 ,accordingly1 as soon as reason issues the mandate1 a humanity shall exist1 it proclaims at the same time the law1 there shall be a beauty4 ,experience can answer us if there is a beauty1 and we shall know it as soon as she has taught us if a humanity can exist4 ,but neither reason nor experience can tell us how beauty can be1 and how a humanity is possible4 ,we know that man is neither exclusively matter nor exclusively spirit4 ,accordingly1 beauty1 as the consummation of humanity1 can neither be exclusively mere life1 as has been asserted by sharp- sighted observers1 who kept too close to the testimony of experience1 and to which the taste of the time would gladly degrade it2 ,nor can beauty be merely form1 as has been judged by speculative sophists1 who departed too far from experience1 and by philosophic artists1 who were led too much by the necessity of art in explaining beauty2 it is rather the common object of both impulses1 that is1 of the play instinct4 ,the use of language completely justifies this name1 as it is wont to qualify with the word play what is neither subjectively nor objectively accidental1 and yet does not impose necessity either externally or internally4 ,as the mind in the intuition of the beautiful finds itself in a happy medium between law and necessity1 it is1 because it divides itself between both1 emancipated from the pressure of both4 ,the formal impulse and the material impulse are equally earnest in their demands1 because one relates in its cognition to things in their reality and the other to their necessity2 because in action the first is directed to the preservation of life1 the second to the preservation of dignity1 and therefore both to truth and perfection4 ,but life becomes more indifferent when dignity is mixed up with it1 and duty no longer coerces when inclination attracts4 ,in like manner the mind takes in the reality of things1 material truth1 more freely and tranquilly as soon as it encounters formal truth1 the law of necessity2 nor does the mind find itself strung by abstraction as soon as immediate intuition can accompany it4 ,in one word1 when the mind comes into communion with ideas1 all reality loses its serious value because it becomes small2 and as it comes in contact with feeling1 necessity parts also with its serious value because it is easy4 ,but perhaps the objection has for some time occurred to you1 ,is not the beautiful degraded by this1 that it is made a mere play8 and is it not reduced to the level of frivolous objects which have for ages passed under that name8 ,does it not contradict the conception of the reason and the dignity of beauty1 which is nevertheless regarded as an instrument of culture1 to confine it to the work of being a mere play8 and does it not contradict the empirical conception of play1 which can coexist with the exclusion of all taste1 to confine it merely to beauty8 ,but what is meant by a ,,mere ,,play1 when we know that in all conditions of humanity that very thing is play1 and only that is play which makes man complete and develops simultaneously his twofold nature8 ,what you style ,,limitation1 according to your representation of the matter1 according to my views1 which ,i have justified by proofs1 ,i name ,,enlargement4 ,consequently1 ,i should have said exactly the reverse3 man is serious ,,only with the agreeable1 with the good1 and with the perfect1 but he ,,plays with beauty4 ,in saying this we must not indeed think of the plays that are in vogue in real life1 and which commonly refer only to his material state4 ,but in real life we should also seek in vain for the beauty of which we are here speaking4 ,the actually present beauty is worthy of the really1 of the actually1 present play-impulse2 but by the ideal of beauty1 which is set up by the reason1 an ideal of the play-instinct is also presented1 which man ought to have before his eyes in all his plays4 ,therefore1 no error will ever be incurred if we seek the ideal of beauty on the same road on which we satisfy our play-impulse4 ,we can immediately understand why the ideal form of a ,venus1 of a ,juno1 and of an ,apollo1 is to be sought not at ,rome1 but in ,greece1 if we contrast the ,greek population1 delighting in the bloodless athletic contests of boxing1 racing1 and intellectual rivalry at ,olympia1 with the ,roman people gloating over the agony of a gladiator4 ,now the reason pronounces that the beautiful must not only be life and form1 but a living form1 that is1 beauty1 inasmuch as it dictates to man the twofold law of absolute formality and absolute reality4 ,reason also utters the decision that man shall only ,,play with beauty1 and he ,,shall ,,only ,,play with ,,beauty4 ,for1 to speak out once for all1 man only plays when in the full meaning of the word he is a man1 and ,,he ,,is ,,only ,,completely ,a ,,man ,,when ,,he ,,plays4 ,this proposition1 which at this moment perhaps appears paradoxical1 will receive a great and deep meaning if we have advanced far enough to apply it to the twofold seriousness of duty and of destiny4 ,i promise you that the whole edifice of aesthetic art and the still more difficult art of life will be supported by this principle4 ,but this proposition is only unexpected in science2 long ago it lived and worked in art and in the feeling of the ,greeks1 her most accomplished masters2 only they removed to ,olympus what ought to have been preserved on earth4 ,influenced by the truth of this principle1 they effaced from the brow of their gods the earnestness and labour which furrow the cheeks of mortals1 and also the hollow lust that smoothes the empty face4 ,they set free the ever serene from the chains of every purpose1 of every duty1 of every care1 and they made ,,indolence and ,,indifference the envied condition of the godlike race2 merely human appellations for the freest and highest mind4 ,as well the material pressure of natural laws as the spiritual pressure of moral laws lost itself in its higher idea of necessity1 which embraced at the same time both worlds1 and out of the union of these two necessities issued true freedom4 ,inspired by this spirit1 the ,greeks also effaced from the features of their ideal1 together with ,,desire or ,,inclination1 all traces of ,,volition1 or1 better still1 they made both unrecognisable1 because they knew how to wed them both in the closest alliance4 ,it is neither charm nor is it dignity which speaks from the glorious face of the ,juno ,ludovici2 it is neither of these1 for it is both at once4 ,while the female god challenges our veneration1 the godlike woman at the same time kindles our love4 ,but while in ecstacy we give ourselves up to the heavenly beauty1 the heavenly self-repose awes us back4 ,the whole form rests and dwells in itself--a fully complete creation in itself--and as if she were out of space1 without advance or resistance2 it shows no force contending with force1 no opening through which time could break in4 ,irresistibly carried away and attracted by her womanly charm1 kept off at a distance by her godly dignity1 we also find ourselves at length in the state of the greatest repose1 an#d the result is a wonderful impression1 for which the understanding has no idea and language no name4 ,,letter ,,xvi4 ,from the antagonism of the two impulsions1 and from the association of two opposite principles1 we have seen beauty to result1 of which the highest ideal must therefore be sought in the most perfect union and equilibrium possible of the reality and of the form4 ,but this equilibrium remains always an idea that reality can never completely reach4 ,in reality1 there will always remain a preponderance of one of these elements over the other1 and the highest point to which experience can reach will consist in an oscillation between two principles1 when sometimes reality and at others form will have the advantage4 ,ideal beauty is therefore eternally one and indivisible1 because there can only be one single equilibrium2 on the contrary1 experimental beauty will be eternally double1 because in the oscillation the equilibrium may be destroyed in two ways--this side and that4 ,i have called attention in the foregoing letters to a fact that can also be rigorously deduced from the considerations that have engaged our attention to the present point2 this fact is that an exciting and also a moderating action may be expected from the beautiful4 ,the ,,tempering action is directed to keep within proper limits the sensuous and the formal impulsions2 the ,,exciting1 to maintain both of them in their full force4 ,but these two modes of action of beauty ought to be completely identified in the idea4 ,the beautiful ought to temper while uniformly exciting the two natures1 and it ought also to excite while uniformly moderating them4 ,this result flows at once from the idea of a correlation1 in virtue of which the two terms mutually imply each other1 and are the reciprocal condition one of the other1 a correlation of which the purest product is beauty4 ,but experience does not offer an example of so perfect a correlation4 ,in the field of experience it will always happen more or less that excess on the one side will give rise to deficiency on the other1 and deficiency will give birth to excess4 ,it results from this that what in the beau-ideal is only distinct in the idea1 is different in reality in empirical beauty1 ,the beau-ideal1 though simple and indivisible1 discloses1 when viewed in two different aspects1 on the one hand a property of gentleness and grace1 and on the other an energetic property2 in experience there is a gentle and graceful beauty1 and there is an energetic beauty4 ,it is so1 and it will be always so1 so long as the absolute is enclosed in the limits of time1 and the ideas of reason have to be realised in humanity4 ,for example1 the intellectual man has the idea of virtue1 of truth1 and of happiness2 but the active man will only practise ,,virtues1 will only grasp ,,truths1 and enjoy ,,happy ,,days4 ,the business of physical and moral education is to bring back this multiplicity to unity1 to put morality in the place of manners1 science in the place of knowledge2 the business of aesthetic education is to make out of beauties the beautiful4 ,energetic beauty can no more preserve a man from a certain residue of savage violence and harshness than graceful beauty can secure him against a certain degree of effeminacy and weakness4 ,as it is the effect of the energetic beauty to elevate the mind in a physical and moral point of view and to augment its momentum1 it only too often happens that the resistance of the temperament and of the character diminishes the aptitude to receive impressions1 that the delicate part of humanity suffers an oppression which ought only to affect its grosser part1 and that this course nature participates in an increase of force that ought only to tun8 to the account of free personality4 ,it is for this reason that at the periods when we find much strength and abundant sap in humanity1 true greatness of thought is seen associated with what is gigantic and extravagant1 and the sublimest feeling is found coupled with the most horrible excess of passion4 ,it is also the reason why1 in the periods distinguished for regularity and form1 nature is as often oppressed as it is governed1 as often outraged as it isi surpassed4 ,and as the action of gentle and graceful beauty is to relax the mind in the moral sphere as well as the physical1 it happens quite as easily that the energy of feelings is extinguished with the violence of desires1 and that character shares in the loss of strength which ought only to affect the passions4 ,this is the reason why1 in ages assumed to be refined1 it is not a rare thing to see gentleness degenerate into effeminacy1 politeness into platitude1 correctness into empty sterility1 liberal ways into arbitrary caprice1 ease into frivolity1 calm into apathy1 and1 lastly1 a most miserable caricature treads on the heels of the noblest1 the most beautiful type of humanity4 ,gentle and graceful beauty is therefore a want to the man who suffers the constraint of matter and of forms1 for he is moved by grandeur and strength long before he becomes sensible to harmony and grace4 ,energetic beauty is a necessity to the man who is under the indulgent sway of taste1 for in his state of refinement he is only too much disposed to make light of the strength that he retained in his state of rude savagism4 ,i think ,i have now answered and also cleared up the contradiction commonly met in the judgments of men respecting the influence of the beautiful1 and the appreciation of aesthetic culture4 ,this contradiction is explained directly we remember that there are two sorts of experimental beauty1 and that on both hands an affirmation is extended to the entire race1 when it can only be proved of one of the species4 ,this contradiction disappears the moment we distinguish a twofold want in humanity to which two kinds of beauty correspond4 ,it is therefore probable that both sides would make good their claims if they come to an understanding respecting the kind of beauty and the form of humanity that they have in view4 ,consequently in the sequel of my researches ,i shall adopt the course that nature herself follows with man considered from the point of view of sesthetics1 and setting out from the two kinds of beauty1 ,i shall rise to the idea of the genus4 ,i shall examine the effects produced on man by the gentle and graceful beauty when its springs of action are in full play1 and also those produced by energetic beauty when they are relaxed4 ,i shall do this to confound these two sorts of beauty in the unity of the beau-ideal1 in the same way that the two opposite forms and modes of being of humanity are absorbed in the unity of the ideal man4 ,,letter ,,xvii4 ,while we were only engaged in deducing the universal idea of beauty from the conception of human nature in general1 we had only to consider in the latter the limits established essentially in itself1 and inseparable from the notion of the finite4 ,without attending to the contingent restrictions that human nature may undergo in the real world of phenomena1 we have drawn the conception of this nature directly from reason1 as a source of every necessity1 and the ideal of beauty has been given us at the same time with the ideal of humanity4 ,but now we are coming down from the region of ideas to the scene of reality1 to find man in a ,,determinate ,,state1 and consequently in limits which are not derived from the pure conception of humanity1 but from external circumstances and from an accidental use of his freedom4 ,but although the limitation of the idea of humanity may be very manifold in the individual1 the contents of this idea suffice to teach us that we can only depart from it by ,,two opposite roads4 ,for if the perfection of man consist in the harmonious energy of his sensuous and spiritual forces1 he can only lack this perfection through the want of harmony and the want of energy4 ,thus then1 before having received on this point the testimony of experience1 reason suffices to assure us that we shall find the real and consequently limited man in a state of tension or relaxation1 according as the exclusive activity of isolated forces troubles the harmony of his being1 or as the unity of his nature is based on the uniform relaxation of his physical and spiritual forces4 ,these opposite limits are1 as we have now to prove1 suppressed by the beautiful1 which re-establishes harmony in man when excited1 and energy in man when relaxed2 and which1 in this way1 in conformity with the nature of the beautiful1 restores the state of limitation to an absolute state1 and makes of man a whole1 complete in himself4 ,thus the beautiful by no means belies in reality the idea which we have made of it in speculation2 only its action is much less free in it than in the field of theory1 where we were able to apply it to the pure conception of humanity4 ,in man1 as experience shows him to us1 the beautiful finds a matter1 already damaged and resisting1 which robs him in ,,ideal perfection of what it communicates to him of its individual mode of being4 ,accordingly in reality the beautiful will always appear a peculiar and limited species1 and not as the pure genus2 in excited minds in the state of tension1 it will lose its freedom and variety2 in relaxed minds1 it will lose its vivifying force2 but we1 who have become familiar with the true character of this contradictory phenomenon1 cannot be led astray by it4 ,we shall not follow the great crowd of critics1 in determining their conception by separate experiences1 and to make them answerable for the deficiencies which man shows under their influence4 ,we know rather that it is man who transfers the imperfections of his individuality over to them1 who stands perpetually in the way of their perfection by his subjective limitation1 and lowers their absolute ideal to two limited forms of phenomena4 ,it was advanced that soft beauty is for an unstrung mind1 and the energetic beauty for the tightly strung mind4 ,but ,i apply the term unstrung to a man when he is rather under the pressure of feelings than under the pressure of conceptions4 ,every exclusive sway of one of his two fundamental impulses is for man a state of compulsion and violence1 and freedom only exists in the co-operation of his two natures4 ,accordingly1 the man governed preponderately by feelings1 or sensuously unstrung1 is emancipated and set free by matter4 ,the soft and graceful beauty1 to satisfy this twofold problem1 must therefore show herself under two aspects--in two distinct forms4 ,first as a form in repose1 she will tone down savage life1 and pave the way from feeling to thought4 ,she will1 secondly1 as a living image equip the abstract form with sensuous power1 and lead back the conception to intuition and law to feeling4 ,the former service she does to the man of nature1 the second to the man of art4 ,but because she does not in both cases hold complete sway over her matter1 but depends on that which is furnished either by formless nature or unnatural art1 she will in both cases bear traces of her origin1 and lose herself in one place in material life and in another in mere abstract form4 ,to be able to arrive at a conception how beauty can become a means to remove this twofold relaxation1 we must explore its source in the human mind4 ,accordingly1 make up your mind to dwell a little longer in the region of speculation1 in order then to leave it for ever1 and to advance with securer footing on the ground of experience4 ,,letter ,,xviii4 ,by beauty the sensuous man is led to form and to thought2 by beauty the spiritual man is brought back to matter and restored to the world of sense4 ,from this statement it would appear to follow that between matter and form1 between passivity and activity1 there must be a middle state1 and that beauty plants us in this state4 ,it actually happens that the greater part of mankind really form this conception of beauty as soon as they begin to reflect on its operations1 and all experience ,i seems to point to this conclusion4 ,but1 on the other hand1 nothing is more unwarrantable and contradictory than such a conception1 because the aversion of matter and form1 the passive and the active1 feeling and thought1 is eternal and ,i cannot be mediated in any way4 ,how can we remove this contradiction8 ,beauty weds the two opposed conditions of feeling and thinking1 and yet there is absolutely no medium between them4 ,the former is immediately certain through experience1 the other through the reason4 ,this is the point to which the whole question of beauty leads1 and if we succeed in settling this point in a satisfactory way1 we have at length found the clue that will conduct us through the whole labyrinth of aesthetics4 ,but this requires two very different operations1 which must necessarily support each other in this inquiry4 ,beauty it is said1 weds two conditions with one another which are opposite to each other1 and can never be one4 ,we must start from this opposition2 we must grasp and recognise them in their entire purity and strictness1 so that both conditions are separated in the most definite matter2 otherwise we mix1 but we do not unite them4 ,secondly1 it is usual to say1 beauty unites those two opposed conditions1 and therefore removes the opposition4 ,but because both conditions remain eternally opposed to one another1 they cannot be united in any other way than by being suppressed4 ,our second business is therefore to make this connection perfect1 to carry them out with such purity and perfection that both conditions disappear entirely in a third one1 and no trace of separation remains in the whole2 otherwise we segregate1 but do not unite4 ,all the disputes that have ever prevailed and still prevail in the philosophical world respecting the conception of beauty have no other origin than their commencing without a sufficiently strict distinction1 or that it is not carried out fully to a pure union4 ,those philosophers who blindly follow their feeling in reflecting on this topic can obtain no other conception of beauty1 because they distinguish nothing separate in the totality of the sensuous impression4 ,other philosophers1 who take the understanding as their exclusive guide1 can never obtain a conception of beauty1 because they never see anything else in the whole than the parts1 and spirit and matter remain eternally separate1 even in their most perfect unity4 ,the first fear to suppress beauty dynamically1 that is1 as a working power1 if they must separate what is united in the feeling4 ,the others fear to suppress beauty logically1 that is1 as a conception1 when they have to hold together what in the understanding is separate4 ,the former wish to think of beauty as it works2 the latter wish it to work as it is thought4 ,both therefore must miss the truth2 the former because they try to follow infinite nature with their limited thinking power2 the others1 because they wish to limit unlimited nature according to their laws of thought ,the first fear to rob beauty of its freedom by a too strict dissection1 the others fear to destroy the distinctness of the conception by a too violent union4 ,but the former do not reflect that the freedom in which they very properly place the essence of beauty is not lawlessness1 but harmony of laws2 not caprice1 but the highest internal necessity4 ,the others do not remember that distinctness1 which they with equal right demand from beauty1 does not consist in the exclusion of certain realities1 but the absolute including of all2 that is not therefore limitation1 but infinitude4 ,we shall avoid the quicksands on which both have made shipwreck if we begin from the two elements in which beauty divides itself before the understanding1 but then afterwards rise to a pure aesthetic unity by which it works on feeling1 and in which both those conditions completely disappear4 ,,letter ,,xix ,two principal and different states of passive and active capacity of being determined ,footnote3 ,bestimmbarkeit can be distinguished in man2 in like manner two states of passive and active determination4 ,footnote3 ,bestimmung4 ,the explanation of this proposition leads us most readily to our end4 ,the condition of the state of man before destination or direction is given him by the impressions of the senses is an unlimited capacity of being determined4 ,the infinite of time and space is given to his imagination for its free use2 and1 because nothing is settled in this kingdom of the possible1 and therefore nothing is excluded from it1 this state of absence of determination can be named an empty infiniteness1 which must not by any means be confounded with an infinite void4 ,now it is necessary that his sensuous nature should be modified1 and that in the indefinite series of possible determinations one alone should become real4 ,one perception must spring up in it4 ,that which1 in the previous state of determinableness1 was only an empty potency becomes now an active force1 and receives contents2 but at the same time1 as an active force it receives a limit1 after having been1 as a simple power1 unlimited4 ,reality exists now1 but the infinite has disappeared4 ,to describe a figure in space1 we are obliged to limit infinite space2 to represent to ourselves a change in time1 we are obliged to divide the totality of time4 ,thus we only arrive at reality by limitation1 at the positive1 at a real position1 by negation or exclusion2 to determination1 by the suppression of our free determinableness4 ,but mere exclusion would never beget a reality1 nor would a mere sensuous impression ever give birth to a perception1 if there were not something from which it was excluded1 if by an absolute act of the mind the negation were not referred to something positive1 and if opposition did not issue out of non-position4 ,this act of the mind is styled judging or thinking1 and the result is named thought4 ,before we determine a place in space1 there is no space for us2 but without absolute space we could never determine a place4 ,the same is the case with time4 ,before we have an instant1 there is no time to us2 but without infinite time--eternity--we should never have a representation of the instant4 ,thus1 therefore1 we can only arrive at the whole by the part1 to the unlimited through limitation2 but reciprocally we only arrive at the part through the whole1 at limitation through the unlimited4 ,it follows from this1 that when it is affirmed of beauty that it mediates for man1 the transition from feeling to thought1 this must not be understood to mean that beauty can fill up the gap that separates feeling from thought1 the passive from the active4 ,this gap is infinite2 and1 without the interposition of a new and independent faculty1 it is impossible for the general to issue from the individual1 the necessary from the contingent4 ,thought is the immediate act of this absolute power1 which1 ,i admit1 can only be manifested in connection with sensuous impressions1 but which in this manifestation depends so little on the sensuous that it reveals itself specially in an opposition to it4 ,the spontaneity or autonomy with which it acts excludes every foreign influence2 and it is not in as far as it helps thought--which comprehends a manifest contradiction--but only in as far as it procures for the intellectual faculties the freedom to manifest themselves in conformity with their proper laws4 ,it does it only because the beautiful can become a means of leading man from matter to form1 from feeling to laws1 from a limited existence to an absolute existence4 ,but this assumes that the freedom of the intellectual faculties can be balked1 which appears contradictory to the conception of an autonomous power4 ,for a power which only receives the matter of its activity from without can only be hindered in its action by the privation of this matter1 and consequently by way of negation2 it is therefore a misconception of the nature of the mind1 to attribute to the sensuous passions the power of oppressing positively the freedom of the mind4 ,experience does indeed present numerous examples where the rational forces appear compressed in proportion to the violence of the sensuous forces4 ,but instead of deducing this spiritual weakness from the energy of passion1 this passionate energy must rather be explained by the weakness of the human mind4 ,for the sense can only have a sway such as this over man when the mind has spontaneously neglected to assert its power4 ,yet in trying by these explanations to move one objection1 ,i appear to have exposed myself to another1 and ,i have only saved the autonomy of the mind at the cost of its unity4 ,for how can the mind derive at the same time from itself the principles of inactivity and of activity1 if it is not itself divided1 and if it is not in opposition with itself8 ,here we must remember that we have before us1 not the infinite mind1 but the finite4 ,the finite mind is that which only becomes active through the passive1 only arrives at the absolute through limitation1 and only acts and fashions in as far as it receives matter4 ,accordingly1 a mind of this nature must associate with the impulse towards form or the absolute1 an impulse towards matter or limitation1 conditions without which it could not have the former impulse nor satisfy it4 ,how can two such opposite tendencies exist together in the same being8 ,this is a problem that can no doubt embarrass the metaphysician1 but not the transcendental philosopher4 ,the latter does not presume to explain the possibility of things1 but he is satisfied with giving a solid basis to the knowledge that makes us understand the possibility of experience4 ,and as experience would be equally impossible without this autonomy in the mind1 and without the absolute unity of the mind1 it lays down these two conceptions as two conditions of experience equally necessary without troubling itself any more to reconcile them4 ,moreover1 this immanence of two fundamental impulses does not in any degree contradict the absolute unity of the mind1 as soon as the mind itself1 its selfhood1 is distinguished from these two motors4 ,no doubt1 these two impulses exist and act in it1 but itself is neither matter nor form1 nor the sensuous nor reason1 and this is a point that does not seem always to have occurred to those who only look upon the mind as itself acting when its acts are in harmony with reason1 and who declare it passive when its acts contradict reason4 ,arrived at its development1 each of these two fundamental impulsions tends of necessity and by its nature to satisfy itself2 but precisely because each of them has a necessary tendency1 and both nevertheless have an opposite tendency1 this twofold constraint mutually destroys itself1 and the will preserves an entire freedom between them both4 ,it is therefore the will that conducts itself like a power--as the basis of reality--with respect to both these impulses2 but neither of them can by itself act as a power with respect to the other4 ,a violent man1 by his positive tendency to justice1 which never fails in him1 is turned away from injustice2 nor can a temptation of pleasure1 however strong1 make a strong character violate its principles4 ,there is in man no other power than his will2 and death alone1 which destroys man1 or some privation of self-consciousness1 is the only thing that can rob man of his internal freedom4 ,an external necessity determines our condition1 our existence in time1 by means of the sensuous4 ,the latter is quite involuntary1 and directly it is produced in us1 we are necessarily passive4 ,in the same manner an internal necessity awakens our personality in connection with sensations1 and by its antagonism with them2 for consciousness cannot depend on the will1 which presupposes it4 ,this primitive manifestation of personality is no more a merit to us than its privation is a defect in us4 ,reason can only be required in a being who is self-conscious1 for reason is an absolute consecutiveness and universality of consciousness2 before this is the case1 he is not a man1 nor can any act of humanity be expected from him4 ,the metaphysician can no more explain the limitation imposed by sensation on a free and autonomous mind than the natural philosopher can understand the infinite1 which is revealed in consciousness in connection with these limits4 ,neither abstraction nor experience can bring us back to the source whence issue our ideas of necessity and of universality2 this source is concealed in its origin in time from the observer1 and its super-sensuous origin from the researches of the metaphysician4 ,but1 to sum up in a few words1 consciousness is there1 and1 together with its immutable unity1 the law of all that is for man is established1 as well as of all that is to be by man1 for his understanding and his activity4 ,the ideas of truth and of right present themselves inevitable1 incorruptible1 immeasurable1 even in the age of sensuousness2 and without our being able to say why or how1 we see eternity in time1 the necessary following the contingent4 ,it is thus that1 without any share on the part of the subject1 the sensation and self-consciousness arise1 and the origin of both is beyond our volition1 as it is out of the sphere of our knowledge4 ,but as soon as these two faculties have passed into action1 and man has verified by experience1 through the medium of sensation1 a determinate existence1 and through the medium of consciousness1 its absolute existence1 the two fundamental impulses exert their influence directly their object is given4 ,the sensuous impulse is awakened with the experience of life--with the beginning of the individual2 the rational impulsion with the experience of law--with the beginning of his personality2 and it is only when these two inclinations have come into existence that the human type is realised4 ,up to that time1 everything takes place in man according to the law of necessity2 but now the hand of nature lets him go1 and it is for him to keep upright humanity which nature places as a germ in his heart4 ,and thus we see that directly the two opposite and fundamental impulses exercise their influence in him1 both lose their constraint1 and the autonomy of two necessities gives birth to freedom4 ,,letter ,,xx4 ,that freedom ,is an active and not a passive principle results from its very conception2 but that liberty itself should be an effect of nature 7taking this word in its widest sense71 and not the work of man1 and therefore that it can be favoured or thwarted by natural means1 is the necessary consequence of that which precedes4 ,it begins only when man is complete1 and when these two fundamental impulsions have been developed4 ,it will then be wanting whilst he is incomplete1 and while one of these impulsions is excluded1 and it will be re-established by all that gives back to man his integrity4 ,thus it is possible1 both with regard to the entire species as to the individual1 to remark the moment when man is yet incomplete1 and when one of the two exclusions acts solely in him4 ,we know that man commences by life simply1 to end by form2 that he is more of an individual than a person1 and that he starts from the limited or finite to approach the infinite4 ,the sensuous impulsion comes into play therefore before the rational impulsion1 because sensation precedes consciousness2 and in this priority of sensuous impulsion we find the key of the history of the whole of human liberty4 ,there is a moment1 in fact1 when the instinct of life1 not yet opposed to the instinct of form1 acts as nature and as necessity2 when the sensuous is a power because man has not begun2 for even in man there can be no other power than his will4 ,but when man shall have attained to the power of thought1 reason1 on the contrary1 will be a power1 and moral or logical necessity will take the place of physical necessity4 ,sensuous power must then be annihilated before the law which must govern it can be established4 ,it is not enough that something shall begin which as yet was not2 previously something must end which had begun4 ,man cannot pass immediately from sensuousness to thought4 ,he must step backwards1 for it is only when one determination is suppressed that the contrary determination can take place4 ,consequently1 in order to exchange passive against active liberty1 a passive determination against an active1 he must be momentarily free from all determination1 and must traverse a state of pure determinability4 ,he has then to return in some degree to that state of pure negative indetermination in which he was before his senses were affected by anything4 ,but this state was absolutely empty of all contents1 and now the question is to reconcile an equal determination and a determinability equally without limit1 with the greatest possible fulness1 because from this situation something positive must immediately follow4 ,the determination which man received by sensation must be preserved1 because he should not lose the reality2 but at the same time1 in so far as finite1 it should be suppressed1 because a determinability without limit would take place4 ,the problem consists then in annihilating the determination of the mode of existence1 and yet at the same time in preserving it1 which is only possible in one way3 in opposing to it another4 ,the two sides of a balance are in equilibrium when empty2 they are also in equilibrium when their contents are of equal weight4 ,thus1 to pass from sensation to thought1 the soul traverses a medium position1 in which sensibility and reason are at the same time active1 and thus they mutually destroy their determinant power1 and by their antagonism produce a negation4 ,this medium situation in which the soul is neither physically nor morally constrained1 and yet is in both ways active1 merits essentially the name of a free situation2 and if we call the state of sensuous determination physical1 and the state of rational determination logical or moral1 that state of real and active determination should be called the aesthetic4 ,,letter ,,xxi4 ,i have remarked in the beginning of the foregoing letter that there is a twofold condition of determinableness and a twofold condition of determination4 ,and now ,i can clear up this proposition4 ,the mind can be determined--is determinate--only in as far as it is not determined2 it is1 however1 determinable also1 in as far as it is not exclusively determined2 that is1 if it is not confined in its determination4 ,the former is only a want of determination--it is without limits1 because it is without reality2 but the latter1 the aesthetic determinableness1 has no limits1 because it unites all reality4 ,the mind is determined1 inasmuch as it is only limited2 but it is also determined because it limits itself of its own absolute capacity4 ,it is situated in the former position when it feels1 in the second when it thinks4 ,accordingly the aesthetic constitution is in relation to determinableness what thought is in relation to determination4 ,the latter is a negative from internal and infinite completeness1 the former a limitation from internal infinite power4 ,feeling and thought come into contact in one single point1 the mind is determined in both conditions1 the man becomes something and exists--either as individual or person--by exclusion2 in other cases these two faculties stand infinitely apart4 ,just in the same manner1 the aesthetic determinableness comes in contact with the mere want of determination in a single point1 by both excluding every distinct determined existence1 by thus being in all other points nothing and all1 and hence by being infinitely different4 ,therefore1 if the latter1 in the absence of determination from deficiency1 is represented as an empty infiniteness1 the aesthetic freedom of determination1 which forms the proper counterpart to the former1 can be considered1 as a completed infiniteness2 a representation which exactly agrees with the teachings of the previous investigations4 ,man is therefore nothing in the aesthetic state1 if attention is given to the single result1 and not to the whole faculty1 and if we regard only the absence or want of every special determination4 ,we must therefore do justice to those who pronounce the beautiful1 and the disposition in which it places the mind1 as entirely indifferent and unprofitable1 in relation to knowledge and feeling4 ,they are perfectly right2 for it is certain that beauty gives no separate1 single result1 either for the understanding or for the will2 it does not carry out a single intellectual or moral object2 it discovers no truth1 does not help us to fulfil a single duty1 and1 in one word1 is equally unfit to found the character or to clear the head4 ,accordingly1 the personal worth of a man1 or his dignity1 as far as this can only depend on himself1 remains entirely undetermined by aesthetic culture1 and nothing further is attained than that1 on the part of nature1 it is made profitable for him to make of himself what he will2 that the freedom to be what he ought to be is restored perfectly to him4 ,but by this1 something infinite is attained4 ,but as soon as we remember that freedom is taken from man by the one-sided compulsion of nature in feeling1 and by the exclusive legislation of the reason in thinking1 we must consider the capacity restored to him by the aesthetical disposition1 as the highest of all gifts1 as the gift of humanity4 ,i admit that he possesses this capacity for humanity1 before every definite determination in which he may be placed4 ,but as a matter of fact1 he loses it with every determined condition1 into which he may come1 and if he is to pass over to an opposite condition1 humanity must be in every case restored to him by the aesthetic life4 ,it is therefore not only a poetical license1 but also philosophically correct1 when beauty is named our second creator4 ,nor is this inconsistent with the fact that she only makes it possible for us to attain and realise humanity1 leaving this to our free will4 ,for in this she acts in common with our original creator1 nature1 which has imparted to us nothing further than this capacity for humanity1 but leaves the use of it to our own determination of will4 ,,letter ,,xxii4 ,accordingly1 if the aesthetic disposition of the mind must be looked upon in one respect as nothing--that is1 when we confine our view to separate and determined operations--it must be looked upon in another respect as a state of the highest reality1 in as far as we attend to the absence of all limits and the sum of powers which are commonly active in it4 ,accordingly we cannot pronounce them1 again1 to be wrong who describe the aesthetic state to be the most productive in relation to knowledge and morality4 ,they are perfectly right1 for a state of mind which comprises the whole of humanity in itself must of necessity include in itself also--necessarily and potentially--every separate expression of it4 ,again1 a disposition of mind that removes all limitation from the totality of human nature must also remove it from every social expression of the same4 ,exactly because its aesthetic disposition does not exclusively shelter any separate function of humanity1 it is favourable to all without distinction1 nor does it favour any particular functions1 precisely because it is the foundation of the possibility of all4 ,all other exercises give to the mind some special aptitude1 but for that very reason give it some definite limits2 only the aesthetical leads him to the unlimited4 ,every other condition1 in which we can live1 refers us to a previous condition1 and requires for its solution a following condition2 only the aesthetic is a complete whole in itself1 for it unites in itself all conditions of its source and of its duration4 ,here alone we feel ourselves swept out of time1 and our humanity expresses itself with purity and integrity as if it had not yet received any impression or interruption from the operation of external powers4 ,that which flatters our senses in immediate sensation opens our weak and volatile spirit to every impression1 but makes us in the same degree less apt for exertion4 ,that which stretches our thinking power and invites to abstract conceptions strengthens our mind for every kind of resistance1 but hardens it also in the same proportion1 and deprives us of susceptibility in the same ratio that it helps us to greater mental activity4 ,for this very reason1 one as well as the other brings us at length to exhaustion1 because matter cannot long do without the shaping1 constructive force1 and the force cannot do without the constructible material4 ,but on the other hand1 if we have resigned ourselves to the enjoyment of genuine beauty1 we are at such a moment of our passive and active powers in the same degree master1 and we shall turn with ease from grave to gay1 from rest to movement1 from submission to resistance1 to abstract thinking and intuition4 ,this high indifference and freedom of mind1 united with power and elasticity1 is the disposition in which a true work of art ought to dismiss us1 and there is no better test of true aesthetic excellence4 ,if after an enjoyment of this kind we find ourselves specially impelled to a particular mode of feeling or action1 and unfit for other modes1 this serves as an infallible proof that we have not experienced any pure aesthetic effect1 whether this is owing to the object1 to our own mode of feeling--as generally happens--or to both together4 ,as in reality no purely aesthetical effect can be met with--for man can never leave his dependence on material forces--the excellence of a work of art can only consist in its greater approximation to its ideal of aesthetic purity1 and however high we may raise the freedom of this effect1 we shall always leave it with a particular disposition and a particular bias4 ,any class of productions or separate work in the world of art is noble and excellent in proportion to the universality of the disposition and the unlimited character of the bias thereby presented to our mind4 ,this truth can be applied to works in various branches of art1 and also to different works in the same branch4 ,we leave a grand musical performance with our feelings excited1 the reading of a noble poem with a quickened imagination1 a beautiful statue or building with an awakened understanding2 but a man would not choose an opportune moment who attempted to invite us to abstract thinking after a high musical enjoyment1 or to attend to a prosaic affair of common life after a high poetical enjoyment1 or to kindle our imagination and astonish our feelings directly after inspecting a fine statue or edifice4 ,the reason of this is that music1 ,,by ,,its ,,matter1 even when most spiritual1 presents a greater affinity with the senses than is permitted by aesthetic liberty2 it is because even the most happy poetry1 having ,,for ,,tis ,,medium the arbitrary and contingent play of the imagination1 always shares in it more than the intimate necessity of the really beautiful allows2 it is because the best sculpture touches on severe science ,,by ,,what ,,is ,,determinate ,,in ,,its ,,conception4 ,however1 these particular affinities are lost in proportion as the works of these three kinds of art rise to a greater elevation1 and it is a natural and necessary consequence of their perfection1 that1 without confounding their objective limits1 the different arts come to resemble each other more and more1 in the action ,,which ,,they ,,exercise ,,on ,,the ,,mind4 ,at its highest degree of ennobling1 music ought to become a form1 and act on us with the calm power of an antique statue2 in its most elevated perfection1 the plastic art ought to become music and move us by the immediate action exercised on the mind by the senses2 in its most complete developmentment1 poetry ought both to stir us powerfully like music and like plastic art to surround us with a peaceful light4 ,in each art1 the perfect style consists exactly in knowing how to remove specific limits1 while sacrificing at the same time the particular advantages of the art1 and to give it by a wise use of what belongs to it specially a more general character4 ,nor is it only the limits inherent in the specific character of each kind of art that the artist ought to overstep in putting his hand to the work2 he must also triumph over those which are inherent in the particular subject of which he treats4 ,in a really beautiful work of art1 the substance ought to be inoperative1 the form should do everything2 for by the form1 the whole man is acted on2 the substance acts on nothing but isolated forces4 ,thus1 however vast and sublime it may be1 the substance always exercises a restrictive action on the mind1 and true aesthetic liberty can only be expected from the form4 ,consequently the true search of the master consists in destroying matter by the form2 and the triumph of art is great in proportion as it overcomes matter and maintains its sway over those who enjoy its work4 ,it is great particularly in destroying matter when most imposing1 ambitious1 and attractive1 when therefore matter has most power to produce the effect proper to it1 or1 again1 when it leads those who consider it more closely to enter directly into relation with it4 ,the mind of the spectator and of the hearer must remain perfectly free and intact2 it must issue pure and entire from the magic circle of the artist1 as from the hands of the ,creator4 ,the most frivolous subject ought to be treated in such a way that we preserve the faculty to exchange it immediately for the most serious work4 ,the arts which have passion for their object1 as a tragedy for example1 do not present a difficulty here2 for1 in the first place these arts are not entirely free1 because they are in the service of a particular end 7the pathetic71 and then no connoisseur will deny that even in this class a work is perfect in proportion as amidst the most violent storms of passion it respects the liberty of the soul4 ,there is a fine art of passion1 but an impassioned fine art is a contradiction in terms1 for the infallible effect of the beautiful is emancipation from the passions4 ,the idea of an instructive fine art 7didactic art7 or improving 7moral7 art is no less contradictory1 for nothing agrees less with the idea of the beautiful than to give a determinate tendency to the mind4 ,however1 from the fact that a work produces effects only by its substance1 it must not always be inferred that there is a want of form in this work2 this conclusion may quite as well testify to a want of form in the observer4 ,if his mind is too stretched or too relaxed1 if it is only accustomed to receive things either by the senses or the intelligence1 even in the most perfect combination1 it will only stop to look at the parts1 and it will only see matter in the most beautiful form4 ,only sensible of the coarse elements1 he must first destroy the aesthetic organisation of a work to find enjoyment in it1 and carefully disinter the details which genius has caused to vanish1 with infinite art1 in the harmony of the whole4 ,the interest he takes in the work is either solely moral or exclusively physical2 the only thing wanting to it is to be exactly what it ought to be--aesthetical4 ,the readers of this class enjoy a serious and pathetic poem as they do a sermon2 a simple and playful work1 as an inebriating draught2 and if on the one hand they have so little taste as to demand edification from a tragedy or from an epos1 even such as the ,messias1 on the other hand they will be infallibly scandalised by a piece after the fashion of ,anacreon and ,catullus4 ,,letter ,,xxiii4 ,i take up the thread of my researches1 which ,i broke off only to apply the principles ,i laid down to practical art and the appreciation of its works4 ,the transition from the passivity of sensuousness to the activity of thought and of will can be effected only by the intermediary state of aesthetic liberty2 and though in itself this state decides nothing respecting our opinions and our sentiments1 and therefore leaves our intellectual and moral value entirely problematical1 it is1 however1 the necessary condition without which we should never attain to an opinion or a sentiment4 ,in a word1 there is no other way to make a reasonable being out of a sensuous man than by making him first aesthetic4 ,but1 you might object3 ,is this mediation absolutely indispensable8 ,could not truth and duty1 one or the other1 in themselves and by themselves1 find access to the sensuous man8 ,to this ,i reply3 ,not only is it possible1 but it is ,i absolutely necessary that they owe solely to themselves their determining force1 and nothing would be more contradictory to our preceding affirmations than to appear to defend the contrary opinion4 ,it has been expressly proved that the beautiful furnishes no result1 either for the comprehension or for the will2 that it mingles with no operations1 either of thought or of resolution2 and that it confers this double power without determining anything with regard to the real exercise of this power4 ,here all foreign help disappears1 and the pure logical form1 the idea1 would speak immediately to the intelligence1 as the pure moral form1 the law1 immediately to the will4 ,but that the pure form should be capable of it1 and that there is in general a pure form for sensuous man1 is that1 ,i maintain1 which should be rendered possible by the aesthetic disposition of the soul4 ,truth is not a thing which can be received from without like reality or the visible existence of objects4 ,it is the thinking force1 in his own liberty and activity1 which produces it1 and it is just this liberty proper to it1 this liberty which we seek in vain in sensuous man4 ,the sensuous man is already determined physically1 and thenceforth he has no longer his free determinability2 he must necessarily first enter into possession of this lost determinability before he can exchange the passive against an active determination4 ,therefore1 in order to recover it1 he must either lose the passive determination that he had1 or he should enclose already in ,himself the active determination to which he should pass4 ,if he confined himself to lose passive determination1 he would at the same time lose with it the possibility of an active determination1 because thought needs a body1 and form can only be realised through matter4 ,he must therefore contain already in himself the active determination that he may be at once both actively and passively determined1 that is to say1 he becomes necessarily aesthetic4 ,consequently1 by the aesthetic disposition of the soul the proper activity of reason is already revealed in the sphere of sensuousness1 the power of sense is already broken within its own boundaries1 and the ennobling of physical man carried far enough1 for spiritual man has only to develop himself according to the laws of liberty4 ,the transition from an aesthetic state to a logical and moral state 7from the beautiful to truth and duty7 is then infinitely more easy than the transition from the physical state to the aesthetic state 7from life pure and blind to form74 ,this transition man can effectuate alone by his liberty1 whilst he has only to enter into possession of himself not to give it himself2 but to separate the elements of his nature1 and not to enlarge it4 ,having attained to the aesthetic disposition1 man will give to his judgments and to his actions a universal value as soon as he desires it ,this passage from brute nature to beauty1 in which an entirely new faculty would awaken in him1 nature would render easier1 and his will has no power over a disposition which1 we know1 itself gives birth to the will4 ,to bring the aesthetic man to profound views1 to elevated sentiments1 he requires nothing more than important occasions2 to obtain the same thing from the sensuous man1 his nature must at first be changed4 ,to make of the former a hero1 a sage1 it is often only necessary to meet with a sublime situation1 which exercises upon the faculty of the will the more immediate action2 for the second1 it must first be transplanted under another sky4 ,one of the most important tasks of culture1 then1 is to submit man to form1 even in a purely physical life1 and to render it aesthetic as far as the domain of the beautiful can be extended1 for it is alone in the aesthetic state1 and not in the physical state1 that the moral state can be developed4 ,if in each particular case man ought to possess the power to make his judgment and his will the judgment of the entire species2 if he ought to find in each limited existence the transition to an infinite existence2 if1 lastly1 he ought from every dependent situation to take his flight to rise to autonomy and to liberty1 it must be observed that at no moment is he only individual and solely obeys the law of nature4 ,to be apt and ready to raise himself from the narrow circle of the ends of nature1 to rational ends1 in the sphere of the former he must already have exercised himself in the second2 he must already have realised his physical destiny with a certain liberty that belongs only to spiritual nature1 that is to say1 according to the laws of the beautiful4 ,and that he can effect without thwarting in the least degree his physical aim4 ,the exigencies of nature with regard to him turn only upon what he does--upon the substance of his acts2 but the ends of nature in no degree determine the way in which he acts1 the form of his actions4 ,on the contrary1 the exigencies of reason have rigorously the form of his activity for its object4 ,thus1 so much as it is necessary for the moral destination of man1 that he be purely moral1 that he shows an absolute personal activity1 so much is he indifferent that his physical destination be entirely physical1 that he acts in a manner entirely passive4 ,henceforth with regard to this last destination1 it entirely depends on him to fulfil it solely as a sensuous being and natural force 7as a force which acts only as it diminishes7 or1 at the same time1 as absolute force1 as a rational being4 ,to which of these does his dignity best respond8 ,of this1 there can be no question4 ,it is as disgraceful and contemptible for him to do under sensuous impulsion that which he ought to have determined merely by the motive of duty1 as it is noble and honourable for him to incline towards conformity with laws1 harmony1 independence2 there even where the vulgar man only satisfies a legitimate want4 ,in a word1 in the domain of truth and morality1 sensuousness must have nothing to determine2 but in the sphere of happiness1 form may find a place1 and the instinct of play prevail4 ,thus then1 in the indifferent sphere of physical life1 man ought to already commence his moral life2 his own proper activity ought already to make way in passivity1 and his rational liberty beyond the limits of sense2 he ought already to impose the law of his will upon his inclinations2 he ought--if you will permit me the expression--to carry into the domain of matter the war against matter1 in order to be dispensed from combatting this redoubtable enemy upon the sacred field of liberty2 he ought to learn to have nobler desires1 not to be forced to have sublime volitions4 ,this is the fruit of aesthetic culture1 which submits to the laws of the beautiful1 in which neither the laws of nature nor those of reason suffer1 which does not force the will of man1 and which by the form it gives to exterior life already opens internal life4 ,,letter ,,xxiv4 ,accordingly three different moments or stages of development can be distinguished1 which the individual man1 as well as the whole race1 must of necessity traverse in a determinate order if they are to fulfil the circle of their determination4 ,no doubt1 the separate periods can be lengthened or shortened1 through accidental causes which are inherent either in the influence of external things or under the free caprice of men2 but neither of them can be overstepped1 and the order of their sequence cannot be inverted either by nature or by the will4 ,man1 in his ,,physical condition1 suffers only the power of nature2 he gets rid of this power in the aesthetical condition1 and he rules them in the moral state4 ,what is man before beauty liberates him from free pleasure1 and the serenity of form tames down the savageness of life8 ,eternally uniform in his aims1 eternally changing in his judgments1 self- seeking without being himself1 unfettered without being free1 a slave without serving any rule4 ,at this period1 the world is to him only destiny1 not yet an object2 all has existence for him only in as far as it procures existence to him2 a thing that neither seeks from nor gives to him is non-existent4 ,every phenomenon stands out before him1 separate and cut off1 as he finds himself in the series of beings4 ,all that is1 is to him through the bias of the moment2 every change is to him an entirely fresh creation1 because with the necessary ,,in ,,him1 the necessary ,,out ,,of ,,him is wanting1 which binds together all the changing forms in the universe1 and which holds fast the law on the theatre of his action1 while the individual departs4 ,it is in vain that nature lets the rich variety of her forms pass before him2 he sees in her glorious fulness nothing but his prey1 in her power and greatness nothing but his enemy4 ,either he encounters objects1 and wishes to draw them to himself in desire1 or the objects press in a destructive manner upon him1 and he thrusts them away in dismay and terror4 ,in both cases his relation to the world of sense is immediate ,,contact2 and perpetually anxious through its pressure1 restless and plagued by imperious wants1 he nowhere finds rest except in enervation1 and nowhere limits save in exhausted desire4 ,true1 his is the powerful breast and the mighty hand of the ,titans444 ,a certain inheritance2 yet the god welded ,round his forehead a brazen band2 ,advice1 moderation1 wisdom1 and patience1-- ,hid it from his shy1 sinister look4 ,every desire is with him a rage1 ,and his rage prowls around limitless4--,iphigenia in ,tauris ,ignorant of his own human dignity1 he is far removed from honouring it in others1 and conscious of his own savage greed1 he fears it in every creature that he sees like himself4 ,he never sees others in himself1 only himself in others1 and human society1 instead of enlarging him to the race1 only shuts him up continually closer in his individuality4 ,thus limited1 he wanders through his sunless life1 till favouring nature rolls away the load of matter from his darkened senses1 reflection separates him from things1 and objects show themselves at length in the after-glow of the consciousness4 ,it is true we cannot point out this state of rude nature as we have here portrayed it in any definite people and age4 ,it is only an idea1 but an idea with which experience agrees most closely in special features4 ,it may be said that man was never in this animal condition1 but he has not1 on the other hand1 ever entirely escaped from it4 ,even in the rudest subjects1 unmistakable traces of rational freedom can be found1 and even in the most cultivated1 features are not wanting that remind us of that dismal natural condition4 ,it is possible for man1 at one and the same time1 to unite the highest and the lowest in his nature2 and if his ,,dignity depends on a strict separation of one from the other1 his ,,happiness depends on a skilful removal of this separation4 ,the culture which is to bring his dignity into agreement with his happiness will therefore have to provide for the greatest purity of these two principles in their most intimate combination4 ,consequently the first appearance of reason in man is not the beginning of humanity4 ,this is first decided by his freedom1 and reason begins first by making his sensuous dependence boundless2 a phenomenon that does not appear to me to have been sufficiently elucidated1 considering its importance and universality4 ,we know that the reason makes itself known to man by the demand for the absolute--the self-dependent and necessary4 ,but as this want of the reason cannot be satisfied in any separate or single state of his physical life1 he is obliged to leave the physical entirely and to rise from a limited reality to ideas4 ,but although the true meaning of that demand of the reason is to withdraw him from the limits of time and to lead him up from the world of sense to an ideal world1 yet this same demand of reason1 by a misapplication--scarcely to be avoided in this age1 prone to sensuousness--can direct him to physical life1 and1 instead of making man free1 plunge him in the most terrible slavery4 ,facts verify this supposition4 ,man raised on the wings of imagination leaves the narrow limits of the present1 in which mere animality is enclosed1 in order to strive on to an unlimited future4 ,but while the limitless is unfolded to his dazed ,,imagination1 his heart has not ceased to live in the separate1 and to serve the moment4 ,the impulse towards the absolute seizes him suddenly in the midst of his animality1 and as in this cloddish condition all his efforts aim only at the material and temporal1 and are limited by his individuality1 he is only led by that demand of the reason to extend his individuality into the infinite1 instead of to abstract from it4 ,he will be led to seek instead of form an inexhaustible matter1 instead of the unchangeable an everlasting change and an absolute securing of his temporal existence4 ,the same impulse which1 directed to his thought and action1 ought to lead to truth and morality1 now directed to his passion and emotional state1 produces nothing but an unlimited desire and an absolute want4 ,the first fruits1 therefore1 that he reaps in the world of spirits1 are cares and fear--both operations of the reason2 not of sensuousness1 but of a reason that mistakes its object and applies its categorical imperative to matter4 ,all unconditional systems of happiness are fruits of this tree1 whether they have for their object the present day or the whole of life1 or what does not make them any more respectable1 the whole of eternity1 for their object4 ,an unlimited duration of existence and of well-being is only an ideal of the desires2 hence a demand which can only be put forth by an animality striving up to the absolute4 ,man1 therefore1 without gaining anything for his humanity by a rational expression of this sort1 loses the happy limitation of the animal over which he now only possesses the unenviable superiority of losing the present for an endeavour after what is remote1 yet without seeking in the limitless future anything but the present4 ,but even if the reason does not go astray in its object1 or err in the question1 sensuousness will continue to falsify the answer for a long time4 ,as soon as man has begun to use his understanding and to knit together phenomena in cause and effect1 the reason1 according to its conception1 presses on to an absolute knitting together and to an unconditional basis4 ,in order merely to be able to put forward this demand man must already have stepped beyond the sensuous1 but the sensuous uses this very demand to bring back the fugitive4 ,in fact it is now that he ought to abandon entirely the world of sense in order to take his flight into the realm of ideas2 for the intelligence temains eternally shut up in the finite and in the contingent1 and does not cease putting questions without reaching the last link of the chain4 ,but as the man with whom we are engaged is not yet capable of such an abstraction1 and does not find it in the sphere of sensuous knowledge1 and because he does not look for it in pure reason1 he will seek for it below in the region of sentiment1 and will appear to find it4 ,no doubt the sensuous shows him nothing that has its foundation in itself1 and that legislates for itself1 but it shows him something that does not care for foundation or law2 therefore thus not being able to quiet the intelligence by showing it a final cause1 he reduces it to silence by the conception which desires no cause2 and being incapable of understanding the sublime necessity of reason1 he keeps to the blind constraint of matter4 ,as sensuousness knows no other end than its interest1 and is determined by nothing except blind chance1 it makes the former the motive of its actions1 and the latter the master of the world4 ,even the divine part in man1 the moral law1 in its first manifestation in the sensuous cannot avoid this perversion1 ,as this moral law is only prohibited and combats in man the interest of sensuous egotism1 it must appear to him as something strange until he has come to consider this self-love as the stranger1 and the voice of reason as his true self4 ,therefore he confines himself to feeling the fetters which the latter imposes on him1 without having the consciousness of the infinite emancipation which it procures for him4 ,without suspecting in himself the dignity of lawgiver1 he only experiences the constraint and the impotent revolt of a subject fretting under the yoke1 because in this experience the sensuous impulsion precedes the moral impulsion1 he gives to the law of necessity a beginning in him1 a positive origin1 and by the most unfortunate of all mistakes he converts the immutable and the eternal in himself into a transitory accident ,he makes up his mind to consider the notions of the just and the unjust as statutes which have been introduced by a will1 and not as having in themselves an eternal value4 ,just as in the explanation of certain natural phenomena he goes beyond nature and seeks out of her what can only be found in her1 in her own laws2 so also in the explanation of moral phenomena he goes beyond reason and makes light of his humanity1 seeking a god in this way4 ,it is not wonderful that a religion which he has purchased at the cost of his humanity shows itself worthy of this origin1 and that he only considers as absolute and eternally binding laws that have never been binding from all eternity4 ,he has placed himself in relation with1 not a holy being1 but a powerful4 ,therefore the spirit of his religion1 of the homage that he gives to ,god1 is a fear that abases him1 and not a veneration that elevates him in his own esteem4 ,though these different aberrations by which man departs from the ideal of his destination cannot all take place at the same time1 because several degrees have to be passed over in the transition from the obscure of thought to error1 and from the obscure of will to the corruption of the will2 these degrees are all1 without exception1 the consequence of his physical state1 because in all the vital impulsion sways the formal impulsion4 ,now1 two cases may happen3 either reason may not yet have spoken in man1 and the physical may reign over him with a blind necessity1 or reason may not be sufficiently purified from sensuous impressions1 and the moral may still be subject to the physical2 in both cases the only principle that has a real power over him is a material principle1 and man1 at least as regards his ultimate tendency1 is a sensuous being4 ,the only difference is1 that in the former case he is an animal without reason1 and in the second case a rational animal4 ,but he ought to be neither one nor the other3 he ought to be a man4 ,nature ought not to rule him exclusively2 nor reason conditionally4 ,the two legislations ought to be completely independent and yet mutually complementary4 ,,letter ,,xxv4 ,whilst man1 in his first physical condition1 is only passively affected by the world of sense1 he is still entirely identified with it2 and for this reason the external world1 as yet1 has no objective existence for him4 ,when he begins in his aesthetic state of mind to regard the world objectively1 then only is his personality severed from it1 and the world appears to him an objective reality1 for the simple reason that he has ceased to form an identical portion of it4 ,that which first connects man with the surrounding universe is the power of reflective contemplation4 ,whereas desire seizes at once its object1 reflection removes it to a distance and renders it inalienably her own by saving it from the greed of passion4 ,the necessity of sense which he obeyed during the period of mere sensations1 lessens during the period of reflection2 the senses are for the time in abeyance2 even ever-fleeting time stands still whilst the scattered rays of consciousness are gathering and shape themselves2 an image of the infinite is reflected upon the perishable ground4 ,as soon as light dawns in man1 there is no longer night outside of him2 as soon as there is peace within him the storm lulls throughout the universe1 and the contending forces of nature find rest within prescribed limits4 ,hence we cannot wonder if ancient traditions allude to these great changes in the inner man as to a revolution in surrounding nature1 and symbolise thought triumphing over the laws of time1 by the figure of ,zeus1 which terminates the reign of ,saturn4 ,as long as man derives sensations from a contact with nature1 he is her slave2 but as soon as he begins to reflect upon her objects and laws he becomes her lawgiver4 ,nature1 which previously ruled him as a power1 now expands before him as an object4 ,what is objective to him can have no power over him1 for in order to become objective it has to experience his own power4 ,as far and as long as he impresses a form upon matter1 he cannot be injured by its effect2 for a spirit can only be injured by that which deprives it of its freedom4 ,whereas he proves his own freedom by giving a form to the formless2 where the mass rules heavily and without shape1 and its undefined outlines are for ever fluctuating between uncertain boundaries1 fear takes up its abode2 but man rises above any natural terror as soon as he knows how to mould it1 and transform it into an object of his art4 ,as soon as he upholds his independence toward phaenomenal nature1 he maintains his dignity toward her as a thing of power and with a noble freedom he rises against his gods4 ,they throw aside the mask with which they had kept him in awe during his infancy1 and to his surprise his mind perceives the reflection of his own image4 ,the divine monster of the ,oriental1 which roams about changing the world with the blind force of a beast of prey1 dwindles to the charming outline of humanity in ,greek fable2 the empire of the ,titans is crushed1 and boundless force is tamed by infinite form4 ,but whilst ,i have been merely searching for an issue from the material world and a passage into the world of mind1 the bold flight of my imagination has already taken me into the very midst of the latter world4 ,the beauty of which we are in search we have left behind by passing from the life of mere sensations to the pure form and to the pure object4 ,such a leap exceeds the condition of human nature2 in order to keep pace with the latter we must return to the world of sense4 ,beauty is indeed the sphere of unfettered contemplation and reflection2 beauty conducts us into the world of ideas1 without however taking us from the world of sense1 as occurs when a truth is perceived and acknowledged4 ,this is the pure product of a process of abstraction from everything material and accidental1 a pure object free from every subjective barrier1 a pure state of self-activity without any admixture of passive sensations4 ,there is indeed a way back to sensation from the highest abstraction2 for thought teaches the inner sensation1 and the idea of logical and moral unity passes into a sensation of sensual accord4 ,but if we delight in knowledge we separate very accurately our own conceptions from our sensations2 we look upon the latter as something accidental1 which might have been omitted without the knowledge being impaired thereby1 without truth being less true4 ,it would1 however1 be a vain attempt to suppress this connection of the faculty of feeling with the idea of beauty1 consequently1 we shall not succeed in representing to ourselves one as the effect of the other1 but we must look upon them both together and reciprocally as cause and effect4 ,in the pleasure which we derive from knowledge we readily distinguish the passage from the active to the passive state1 and we clearly perceive that the first ends when the second begins4 ,on the contrary1 from the pleasure which we take in beauty1 this transition from the active to the passive is not perceivable1 and reflection is so intimately blended with feeling that we believe we feel the form immediately4 ,beauty is then an object to us1 it is true1 because reflection is the condition of the feeling which we have of it2 but it is also a state of our personality 7our ,ego71 because the feeling is the condition of the idea we conceive of it3 beauty is therefore doubtless form1 because we contemplate it1 but it is equally life because we feel it4 ,in a word1 it is at once our state and our act4 ,and precisely because it is at the same time both a state and an act1 it triumphantly proves to us that the passive does not exclude the active1 neither matter nor form1 neither the finite nor the infinite2 and that consequently the physical dependence to which man is necessarily devoted does not in any way destroy his moral liberty4 ,this is the proof of beauty1 and ,i ought to add that this ,,alone can prove it4 ,in fact1 as in the possession of truth or of logical unity1 feeling is not necessarily one with the thought1 but follows it accidentally2 it is a fact which only proves that a sensitive nature can succeed a rational nature1 and vice versa2 not that they co-exist1 that they exercise a reciprocal action one over the other1 and lastly that they ought to be united in an absolute and necessary manner4 ,from this exclusion of feeling as long as there is thought1 and of thought so long as there is feeling1 we should on the contrary conclude that the two natures are incompatible1 so that in order to demonstrate that pure reason is to be realised in humanity1 the best proof given by the analysis is that this realisation is demanded4 ,but1 as in the realisation of beauty or of aesthetic unity1 there is a real union1 mutual substitution of matter and of form1 of passive and of active1 by this alone is proved the compatibility of the two natures1 the possible realisation of the infinite in the finite1 and consequently also the possibility of the most sublime humanity4 ,henceforth we need no longer be embarrassed to find a transition from dependent feeling to moral liberty1 because beauty reveals to us the fact that they can perfectly co-exist1 and that to show himself a spirit1 man need not escape from matter4 ,but if on one side he is free1 even in his relation with a visible world1 as the fact of beauty teaches1 and if on the other side freedom is something absolute and super-sensuous1 as its idea necessarily implies1 the question is no longer how man succeeds in raising himself from the finite to the absolute1 and opposing himself in his thought and will to sensuality1 as this has already been produced in the fact of beauty4 ,in a word1 we have no longer to ask how he passes from virtue to truth1 which is already included in the former1 but how he opens a way for himself from vulgar reality to aesthetic reality1 and from the ordinary feelings of life to the perception of the beautiful4 ,,letter ,,xxvi4 ,i have shown in the previous letters that it is only the aesthetic disposition of the soul that gives birth to liberty1 it cannot therefore be derived from liberty nor have a moral origin4 ,it must be a gift of nature2 the favour of chance alone can break the bonds of the physical state and bring the savage to duty4 ,the germ of the beautiful will find an equal difficulty in developing itself in countries where a severe nature forbids man to enjoy himself1 and in those where a prodigal nature dispenses him from all effort2 where the blunted senses experience no want1 and where violent desire can never be satisfied4 ,the delightful flower of the beautiful will never unfold itself in the case of the ,troglodyte hid in his cavern always alone1 and never finding humanity outside himself2 nor among nomads1 who1 travelling in great troops1 only consist of a multitude1 and have no individual humanity4 ,it will only flourish in places where man converses peacefully with himself in his cottage1 and with the whole race when he issues from it4 ,in those climates where a limpid ether opens the senses to the lightest impression1 whilst a life-giving warmth developes a luxuriant nature1 where even in the inanimate creation the sway of inert matter is overthrown1 and the victorious form ennobles even the most abject natures2 in this joyful state and fortunate zone1 where activity alone leads to enjoyment1 and enjoyment to activity1 from life itself issues a holy harmony1 and the laws of order develope life1 a different result takes place4 ,when imagination incessantly escapes from reality1 and does not abandon the simplicity of nature in its wanderings3 then and there only the mind and the senses1 the receptive force and the plastic force1 are developed in that happy equilibrium which is the soul of the beautiful and the condition of humanity4 ,what phaenomenon accompanies the initiation of the savage into humanity8 ,however far we look back into history the phaenomenon is identical among all people who have shaken off the slavery of the animal state1 the love of appearance1 the inclination for dress and for games4 ,extreme stupidity and extreme intelligence have a certain affinity in only seeking the real and being completely insensible to mere appearance4 ,the former is only drawn forth by the immediate presence of an object in the senses1 and the second is reduced to a quiescent state only by referring conceptions to the facts of experience4 ,in short1 stupidity cannot rise above reality1 nor the intelligence descend below truth4 ,thus1 in as far as the want of reality and attachment to the real are only the consequence of a want and a defect1 indifference to the real and an interest taken in appearances are a real enlargement of humanity and a decisive step towards culture4 ,in the first place it is the proof of an exterior liberty1 for as long as necessity commands and want solicits1 the fancy is strictly chained down to the real2 it is only when want is satisfied that it developes without hindrance4 ,but it is also the proof of an internal liberty1 because it reveals to us a force which1 independent of an external substratum1 sets itself in motion1 and has sufficient energy to remove from itself the solicitations of nature4 ,the reality of things is effected by things1 the appearance of things is the work of man1 and a soul that takes pleasure in appearance does not take pleasure in what it receives but in what it makes4 ,it is self-evident that ,i am speaking of aesthetical evidence different from reality and truth1 and not of logical appearance identical with them4 ,therefore if it is liked it is because it is an appearance1 and not because it is held to be something better than it is3 the first principle alone is a play whilst the second is a deception4 ,to give a value to the appearance of the first kind can never injure truth1 because it is never to be feared that it will supplant it--the only way in which truth can be injured4 ,to despise this appearance is to despise in general all the fine arts of which it is the essence4 ,nevertheless1 it happens sometimes that the understanding carries its zeal for reality as far as this intolerance1 and strikes with a sentence of ostracism all the arts relating to beauty in appearance1 because it is only an appearance4 ,however1 the intelligence only shows this vigorous spirit when it calls to mind the affinity pointed out further back4 ,i shall find some day the occasion to treat specially of the limits of beauty in its appearance4 ,it is nature herself which raises man from reality to appearance by endowing him with two senses which only lead him to the knowledge of the real through appearance4 ,in the eye and the ear the organs of the senses are already freed from the persecutions of nature1 and the object with which we are immediately in contact through the animal senses is remoter from us4 ,what we see by the eye differs from what we feel2 for the understanding to reach objects overleaps the light which separates us from them4 ,in truth1 we are passive to an object2 in sight and hearing the object is a form we create4 ,while still a savage1 man only enjoys through touch merely aided by sight and sound4 ,he either does not rise to perception through sight1 or does not rest there4 ,as soon as he begins to enjoy through sight1 vision has an independent value1 he is aesthetically free1 and the instinct of play is developed4 ,the instinct of play likes appearance1 and directly it is awakened it is followed by the formal imitative instinct which treats appearance as an independent thing4 ,directly man has come to distinguish the appearance from the reality1 the form from the body1 he can separate1 in fact he has already done so4 ,thus the faculty of the art of imitation is given with the faculty of form in general4 ,the inclination that draws us to it reposes on another tendency ,i have not to notice here4 ,the exact period when the aesthetic instinct1 or that of art1 developes1 depends entirely on the attraction that mere appearance has for men4 ,as every real existence proceeds from nature as a foreign power1 whilst every appearance comes in the first place from man as a percipient subject1 he only uses his absolute sight in separating semblance from essence1 and arranging according to subjective law4 ,with an unbridled liberty he can unite what nature has severed1 provided he can imagine his union1 and he can separate what nature has united1 provided this separation can take place in his intelligence4 ,here nothing can be sacred to him but his own law3 the only condition imposed upon him is to respect the border which separates his own sphere from the existence of things or from the realm of nature4 ,this human right of ruling is exercised by man in the art of appearance2 and his success in extending the empire of the beautiful1 and guarding the frontiers of truth1 will be in proportion with the strictness with which he separates form from substance3 for if he frees appearance from reality he must also do the converse4 ,but man possesses sovereign power only in the world of appearance1 in the unstibstantial realm of imagination1 only by abstaining from giving being to appearance in theory1 and by giving it being in practice4 ,it follows that the poet transgresses his proper limits when he attributes being to his ideal1 and when he gives this ideal aim as a determined existence4 ,for he can only reach this result by exceeding his right as a poet1 that of encroaching by the ideal on the field of experience1 and by pretending to determine real existence in virtue of a simple possibility1 or else he renounces his right as poet by letting experience encroach on the sphere of the ideal1 and by restricting possibility to the conditions of reality4 ,it is only by being frank or disclaiming all reality1 and by being independent or doing without reality1 that the appearance is aesthetical4 ,directly it apes reality or needs reality for effect it is nothing more than a vile instrument for material ends1 and can prove nothing for the freedom of the mind4 ,moreover1 the object in which we find beauty need not be unreal if pur judgment disregards this reality2 nor if it regards this the judgment is no longer aesthetical4 ,a beautiful woman if living would no doubt please us as much and rather more than an equally beautiful woman seen in painting2 but what makes the former please men is not her being an independent appearance2 she no longer pleases the pure aesthetic feeling4 ,in the painting1 life must only attract as an appearance1 and reality as an idea4 ,but it is certain that to feel in a living object only the pure appearance1 requires a greatly higher aesthetic culture than to do without life in the appearance4 ,when the frank and independent appearance is found in man separately1 or in a whole people1 it may be inferred they have mind1 taste1 and all prerogatives connected with them4 ,in this case1 the ideal will be seen to govern real life1 honour triumphing over fortune1 thought over enjoyment1 the dream of immortality over a transitory existence4 ,in this case public opinion will no longer be feared and an olive crown will be more valued than a purple mantle4 ,impotence and perversity alone have recourse to false and paltry semblance1 and individuals as well as nations who lend to reality the support of appearance1 or to the aesthetical appearance the support of reality1 show their moral unworthiness and their aesthetical impotence4 ,therefore1 a short and conclusive answer can be given to this question--,how far will appearance be permitted in the moral world8 ,it will run thus in proportion as this appearance will be sesthetical1 that is1 an appearance that does not try to make up for reality1 nor requires to be made up for by it4 ,the aesthetical appearance can never endanger the truth of morals3 wherever it seems to do so the appearance is not aesthetical4 ,only a stranger to the fashionable world can take the polite assurances1 which are only a form1 for proofs of affection1 and say he has been deceived2 but only a clumsy fellow in good society calls in the aid of duplicity and flatters to become amiable4 ,the former lacks the pure sense for independent appearance2 therefore he can only give a value to appearance by truth4 ,the second lacks reality1 and wishes to replace it by appearance4 ,nothing is more common than to hear depreciators of the times utter these paltry complaints--that all solidity has disappeared from the world1 and that essence is neglected for semblance4 ,though ,i feel by no means called upon to defend this age against these reproaches1 ,i must say that the wide application of these criticisms shows that they attach blame to the age1 not only on the score of the falsez but also of the frank appearance4 ,and even the exceptions they admit in favour of the beautiful have for their object less the independent appearance than the needy appearance4 ,not only do they attack the artificial colouring that hides truth and replaces reality1 but also the beneficent appearance that fills a vacuum and clothes poverty2 and they even attack the ideal appearance that ennobles a vulgar reality4 ,their strict sense of truth is rightlyl offended by the falsity of manners2 unfortunately1 they class politeness in this category4 ,it displeases them that the noisy and showy so often eclipse true merit1 but they are no less shocked that appearance is also demanded from merit1 and that a real substance does not dispense with an agreeable form4 ,they regret the cordiality1 the energy1 and solidity of ancient times2 they would restore with them ancient coarseness1 heaviness1 and the old ,gothic profusion4 ,by judgments of this kind they show an esteem for the matter itself unworthy of humanity1 which ought only to value tne matter inasmuch as it can receive a form and enlarge the empire of ideas4 ,accordingly1 the taste of the age need not much fear these criticisms1 if it can clear itself before better judges4 ,our defect is not to grant a value to aesthetic appearance 7we do not do this enough73 a severe judge of the beautiful might rather reproach us with not having arrived at pure appearance1 with not having separated clearly enough existence from the phaenomenon1 and thus established their limits4 ,we shall deserve this reproach so long as we cannot enjoy the beautiful in living nature without desiring it2 as long as we cannot admire the beautiful in the imitative arts without having an end in view2 as long as we do not grant to imagination an absolute legislation of its own2 and as long as we do not inspire it with care for its dignity by the esteem we testify for its works4 ,,letter ,,xxvii4 ,do not fear for reality and truth4 ,even if the elevated idea of aesthetic appearance became general1 it would not become so1 as long as man remains so little cultivated as to abuse it2 and if it became general1 this would result from a culture that would prevent all abuse of it4 ,the pursuit of independent appearance requires more power of abstraction1 freedom of heart1 and energy of will than man requires to shut himself up in reality2 and he must have left the latter behind him if he wishes to attain to aesthetic appearance4 ,therefore a man would calculate very badly who took the road of the ideal to save himself that of reality4 ,thus reality would not have much to fear from appearance1 as we understand it2 but1 on the other hand1 appearance would have more to fear from reality4 ,chained to matter1 man uses appearance for his purposes before he allows it a proper personality in the art of the ideal3 to come to that point a complete revolution must take place in his mode of feeling1 otherwise he would not be even on the way to the ideal4 ,consequently1 when we find in man the signs of a pure and disinterested esteem1 we can infer that this revolution has taken place in his nature1 and that humanity has really begun in him4 ,signs of this kind are found even in the first and rude attempts that he makes to embellish his existence1 even at the risk of making it worse in its material conditions4 ,as soon as he begins to prefer form to substance and to risk reality for appearance 7known by him to be such71 the barriers of animal life fall1 and he finds himself on a track that has no end4 ,not satisfied with the needs of nature1 he demands the superfluous4 ,first1 only the superfluous of matter1 to secure his enjoyment beyond the present necessity2 but afterwards he wishes a superabundance in matter1 an aesthetical supplement to satisfy the impulse for the formal1 to extend enjoyment beyond necessity4 ,by piling up provisions simply for a future use1 and anticipating their enjoyment in the imagination1 he outsteps the limits of the present moment1 but not those of time in general4 ,he enjoys more2 he does not enjoy differently4 ,but as soon as he makes form enter into his enjoyment1 and he keeps in view the forms of the objects which satisfy his desires1 he has not only increased his pleasure in extent and intensity1 but he has also ennobled it in mode and species4 ,no doubt nature has given more than is necessary to unreasoning beings2 she has caused a gleam of freedom to shine even in the darkness of animal life4 ,when the lion is not tormented by hunger1 and when no wild beast challenges him to fight1 his unemployed energy creates an object for himself2 full of ardour1 he fills the re-echoing desert with his terrible roars1 and his exuberant force rejoices in itself1 showing itself without an object4 ,the insect flits about rejoicing in life in the sunlight1 and it is certainly not the cry of want that makes itself heard in the melodious song of the bird2 there is undeniably freedom in these movements1 though it is not emancipation from want in general1 but from a determinate external necessity4 ,the animal works1 when a privation is the motor of its activity1 and it plays when the plenitude of force is this motor1 when an exuberant life is excited to action4 ,even in inanimate nature a luxury of strength and a latitude of determination are shown1 which in this material sense might be styled play4 ,the tree produces numberless germs that are abortive without developing1 and it sends forth more roots1 branches and leaves1 organs of nutrition1 than are used for the preservation of the species4 ,whatever this tree restores to the elements of its exuberant life1 without using it1 or enjoying it1 may be expended by life in free and joyful movements4 ,it is thus that nature offers in her material sphere a sort of prelude to the limitless1 and that even there she suppresses partially the chains from which she will be completely emancipated in the realm of form4 ,the constraint of superabundance or physical play1 answers as a transition from the constraint of necessity1 or of physical seriousness1 to aesthetical play2 and before shaking off1 in the supreme freedom of the beautiful1 the yoke of any special aim1 nature already approaches1 at least remotely1 this independence1 by the free movement which is itself its own end and means4 ,the imagination1 like the bodily organs1 has in man its free movement and its material play1 a play in which1 without any reference to form1 it simply takes pleasure in its arbitrary power and in the absence of all hindrance4 ,these plays of fancy1 inasmuch as form is not mixed up with them1 and because a free succession of images makes all their charm1 though confined to man1 belong exclusively to animal life1 and only prove one thing--that he is delivered from all external sensuous constraint--without our being entitled to infer that there is in it an independent plastic force4 ,from this play of free association of ideas1 which is still quite material in nature and is explained by simple natural laws1 the imagination1 by making the attempt of creating a free form1 passes at length at a jump to the aesthetic play3 ,i say at one leap1 for quite a new force enters into action here2 for here1 for the first time1 the legislative mind is mixed with the acts of a blind instinct1 subjects the arbitrary march of the imagination to its eternal and immutable unity1 causes its independent permanence to enter in that which is transitory1 and its infinity in the sensuous4 ,nevertheless1 as long as rude nature1 which knows of no other law than running incessantly from change to change1 will yet retain too much strength1 it will oppose itself by its different caprices to this necessity2 by its agitation to this permanence2 by its manifold needs to this independence1 and by its insatiability to this sublime simplicity4 ,it will be also troublesome to recognise the instinct of play in its first trials1 seeing that the sensuous impulsion1 with its capricious humour and its violent appetites1 constantly crosses4 ,it is on that account that we see the taste1 still coarse1 seize that which is new and startling1 the disordered1 the adventurous and the strange1 the violent and the savage1 and fly from nothing so much as from calm and simplicity4 ,it invents grotesque figures1 it likes rapid transitions1 luxurious forms1 sharply marked changes1 acute tones1 a pathetic song4 ,that which man calls beautiful at this time1 is that which excites him1 that which gives him matter2 but that which excites him to give his personality to the object1 that which gives matter to a possible plastic operation1 for otherwise it would not be the beautiful for him4 ,a remarkable change has therefore taken place in the form of his judgments2 he searches for these objects1 not because they affect him1 but because they furnish him with the occasion of acting2 they please him1 not because they answer to a want1 but because they satisfy a law1 which speaks in his breast1 although quite low as yet4 ,soon it will not be sufficient for things to please him2 he will wish to please3 in the first place1 it is true1 only by that which belongs to him2 afterwards by that which he is4 ,that which he possesses1 that which he produces1 ought not merely to bear any more the traces of servitude1 nor to mark out the end1 simply and scrupulously1 by the form4 ,independently of the use to which it is destined1 the object ought also to reflect the enlightened intelligence which imagines it1 the hand which shaped it with affection1 the mind free and serene which chose it and exposed it to view4 ,now1 the ancient ,german searches for more magnificent furs1 for more splendid antlers of the stag1 for more elegant drinking horns2 and the ,caledonian chooses the prettiest shells for his festivals4 ,the arms themselves ought to be no longer only objects of terror1 but also of pleasure2 and the skilfully worked scabbard will not attract less attention than the homicidal edge of the sword4 ,the instinct of play1 not satisfied with bringing into the sphere of the necessary an aesthetic superabundance for the future more free1 is at last completely emancipated from the bonds of duty1 and the beautiful becomes of itself an object of man's exertions4 ,he adorns himself4 ,the free pleasure comes to take a place among his wants1 and the useless soon becomes the best part of his joys4 ,form1 which from the outside gradually approaches him1 in his dwelling1 his furniture1 his clothing1 begins at last to take possession of the man himself1 to transform him1 at first exteriorly1 and afterwards in the interior4 ,the disordered leaps of joy become the dance1 the formless gesture is changed into an amiable and harmonious pantomime1 the confused accents of feeling are developed1 and begin to obey measure and adapt themselves to song4 ,when1 like the flight of cranes1 the ,trojan army rushes on to the field of battle with thrilling cries1 the ,greek army approaches in silence and with a noble and measured step4 ,on the one side we see but the exuberance of a blind force1 on the other2 the triumph of form and the simple majesty of law4 ,now1 a nobler necessity binds the two sexes mutually1 and the interests of the heart contribute in rendering durable an alliance which was at first capricious and changing like the desire that knits it4 ,delivered from the heavy fetters of desire1 the eye1 now calmer1 attends to the form1 the soul contemplates the soul1 and the interested exchange of pleasure becomes a generous exchange of mutual inclination4 ,desire enlarges and rises to love1 in proportion as it sees humanity dawn in its object2 and1 despising the vile triumphs gained by the senses1 man tries to win a nobler victory over the will4 ,the necessity of pleasing subjects the powerful nature to the gentle laws of taste2 pleasure may be stolen1 but love must be a gift4 ,to obtain this higher recompense1 it is only through the form and not through matter that it can carry on the contest4 ,it must cease to act on feeling as a force1 to appear in the intelligence as a simple phenomenon2 it must respect liberty1 as it is liberty it wishes to please4 ,the beautiful reconciles the contrast of different natures in its simplest and purest expression4 ,it also reconciles the eternal contrast of the two sexes1 in the whole complex framework of society1 or at all events it seeks to do so2 and1 taking as its model the free alliance it has knit between manly strength and womanly gentleness1 it strives to place in harmony1 in the moral world1 all the elements of gentleness and of violence4 ,now1 at length1 weakness becomes sacred1 and an unbridled strength disgraces2 the injustice of nature is corrected by the generosity of chivalrous manners4 ,the being whom no power can make tremble1 is disarmed by the amiable blush of modesty1 and tears extinguish a vengeance that blood could not have quenched4 ,hatred itself hears the delicate voice of honour1 the conqueror's sword spares the disarmed enemy1 and a hospitable hearth smokes for the stranger on the dreaded hill-side where murder alone awaited him before4 ,in the midst of the formidable realm of forces1 and of the sacred empire of laws1 the aesthetic impulse of form creates by degrees a third and a joyous realm1 that of play and of the appearance1 where she emancipates man from fetters1 in all his relations1 and from all that is named constraint1 whether physical or moral4 ,if in the dynamic state of rights men mutually move and come into collision as forces1 in the moral 7ethical7 state of duties1 man opposes to man the majesty of the laws1 and chains down his will4 ,in this realm of the beautiful or the aesthetic state1 man ought to appear to man only as a form1 and an object of free play4 ,to give freedom through freedom is the fundamental law of this realm4 ,the dynamic state can only make society simply possible by subduing nature through nature2 the moral 7ethical7 state can only make it morally necessary by submitting the will of the individual to the general will4 ,the aesthetic state alone can make it real1 because it carries out the will of all through the nature of the individual4 ,if necessity alone forces man to enter into society1 and if his reason engraves on his soul social principles1 it is beauty only that can give him a social character2 taste alone brings harmony into society1 because it creates harmony in the individual4 ,all other forms of perception divide the man1 because they are based exclusively either in the sensuous or in the spiritual part of his being4 ,it is only the perception of beauty that makes of him an entirety1 because it demands the co-operation of his two natures4 ,all other forms of communication divide society1 because they apply exclusively either to the receptivity or to the private activity of its members1 and therefore to what distinguishes men one from the other4 ,the aesthetic communication alone unites society1 because it applies to what is common to all its members4 ,we only enjoy the pleasures of sense as individuals1 without the nature of the race in us sharing in it2 accordingly1 we cannot generalise our individual pleasures1 because we cannot generalise our individuality4 ,we enjoy the pleasures of knowledge as a race1 dropping the ,individual in our judgment2 but we cannot generalise the pleasures of the understanding1 because we cannot eliminate individuality from the judgments of others as we do from our own4 ,beauty alone can we enjoy both as individuals and as a race1 that is1 as representing a race4 ,good appertaining to sense can only make one person happy1 because it is founded on inclination1 which is always exclusive2 and it can only make a man partially happy1 because his real personality does not share in it4 ,absolute good can only render a man happy conditionally1 for truth is only the reward of abnegation1 and a pure heart alone has faith in a pure will4 ,beauty alone confers happiness on all1 and under its influence every being forgets that he is limited4 ,taste does not suffer any superior or absolute authority1 and the sway of beauty is extended over appearance4 ,it extends up to the seat of reason's supremacy1 suppressing all that is material4 ,it extends down to where sensuous impulse rules with blind compulsion1 and form is undeveloped4 ,taste ever maintains its power on these remote borders1 where legislation is taken from it4 ,particular desires must renounce their egotism1 and the agreeable1 otherwise tempting the senses1 must in matters of taste adorn the mind with the attractions of grace4 ,duty and stern necessity must change their forbidding tone1 only excused by resistance1 and do homage to nature by a nobler trust in her4 ,taste leads our knowledge from the mysteries of science into the open expanse of common sense1 and changes a narrow scholasticism into the common property of the human race4 ,here the highest genius must leave its particular elevation1 and make itself familiar to the comprehension even of a child4 ,strength must let the ,graces bind it1 and the arbitrary lion must yield to the reins of love4 ,for this purpose taste throws a veil over physical necessity1 offending a free mind by its coarse nudity1 and dissimulating our degrading parentage with matter by a delightful illusion of freedom4 ,mercenary art itself rises from the dust2 and the bondage of the bodily1 at its magic touch1 falls off from the inanimate and animate4 ,in the aesthetic state the most slavish tool is a free citizen1 having the same rights as the noblest2 and the intellect which shapes the mass to its intent must consult it concerning its destination4 ,consequently in the realm of aesthetic appearance1 the idea of equality is realised1 which the political zealot would gladly see carried out socially4 ,it has often been said that perfect politeness is only found near a throne4 ,if thus restricted in the material1 man has1 as elsewhere appears1 to find compensation in the ideal world4 ,does such a state of beauty in appearance exist1 and where8 ,it must be in every finely harmonised soul2 but as a fact1 only in select circles1 like the pure ideal of the church and state--in circles where manners are not formed by the empty imitations of the foreign1 but by the very beauty of nature2 where man passes through all sorts of complications in all simplicity and innocence1 neither forced to trench on another's freedom to preserve his own1 nor to show grace at the cost of dignity4 ,,fundamental ,,principles ,,of ,,the ,,metaphysic ,,of ,,morals ,,by ,,immanuel ,,kant ,,translated ,,by ,t4 ,k4 ,,abbott ,,introductory ,,note ,immanuel ,kant was born in ,konigsberg1 ,east ,prussia1 ,april #bb1 #agbd1 the son of a saddler of ,scottish descent4 ,the family was pietist1 and the future philosopher entered the university of his native city in #agdj1 with a view to studying theology4 ,he developed1 however1 a many-sided interest in learning1 and his earlier publications were in the field of speculative physics4 ,after the close of his period of study at the university he became a private tutor2 then ,in #agee1 privat-docent2 and in #aggj1 professor4 ,during the first eleven years of his professorship ,kant published little1 spending his energies in the meditation that was to result in the philosophical system of which the first part was given to the world in his ,critique of ,pure ,reason in #agha4 ,from that time till near the end of the century he issued volume after volume2 yet when he died ,in #ahjd he regarded his statement of his system as fragmentary4 ,of the enormous importance of ,kant in the history of philosophy1 no idea can be given here4 ,the important document which follows was published in #aghe1 and forms the basis of the moral system on which he erected the whole structure of belief in ,god1 ,freedom1 and ,immortality4 ,kant is often difficult and obscure1 and became more so as he grew older2 but the present treatise can be followed1 in its main lines1 by any intelligent person who is interested enough in the fundamental problems of human life and conduct to give it serious and concentrated attention4 ,to such a reader the subtle yet clear distinctions1 and the lofty and rigorous principles of action1 which it lays down1 will prove an intellectual and moral tonic such as hardly any other modern writer affords4 ,,preface ,ancient ,greek philosophy was divided into three sciences3 ,physics1 ,ethics1 and ,logic4 ,this division is perfectly suitable to the nature of the thing1 and the only improvement that can be made in it is to add the principle on which it is based1 so that we may both satisfy ourselves of its completeness1 and also be able to determine correctly the necessary subdivisions4 ,all rational knowledge is either material or formal3 the former considers some object1 the latter is concerned only with the form of the understanding and of the reason itself1 and with the universal laws of thought in general without distinction of its objects4 ,formal philosophy is called ,logic4 ,material philosophy1 however1 which has to do with determinate objects and the laws to which they are subject1 is again two-fold2 for these laws are either laws of nature or of freedom4 ,the science of the former is ,physics1 that of the latter1 ,ethics2 they are also called natural philosophy and moral philosophy respectively4 ,logic cannot have any empirical part2 that is1 a part in which the universal and necessary laws of thought should rest on grounds taken from experience2 otherwise it would not be logic1 i4 e4 a canon for the understanding or the reason1 valid for all thought1 and capable of demonstration4 ,natural and moral philosophy1 on the contrary1 can each have their empirical part1 since the former has to determine the laws of nature as an object of experience2 the latter the laws of the human will1 so far as it is affected by nature3 the former1 however1 being laws according to which everything does happen2 the latter1 laws according to which everything ought to happen4 ,footnote3 ,the word law is here used in two different senses1 on which see ,whately's ,logic1 ,appendix1 ,art4 ,law4 ,ethics1 however1 must also consider the conditions under which what ought to happen frequently does not4 ,we may call all philosophy empirical1 so far as it is based on grounds of experience3 on the other hand1 that which delivers its doctrines from a priori principles alone we may call pure philosophy4 ,when the latter is merely formal it is logic2 if it is restricted to definite objects of the understanding it is metaphysic4 ,in this way there arises the idea of a two-fold metaphysic--a metaphysic of nature and a metaphysic of morals4 ,physics will thus have an empirical and also a rational part4 ,it is the same with ,ethics2 but here the empirical part might have the special name of practical anthropology1 the name morality being appropriated to the rational part4 ,all trades1 arts1 and handiworks have gained by division of labour1 namely1 when1 instead of one man doing everything1 each confines himself to a certain kind of work distinct from others in the treatment it requires1 so as to be able to perform it ,with greater facility and4 in the greatest perfection4 ,where the different kinds of work are not so distinguished and divided1 where everyone is a jack-of-all-trades1 there manufactures remain still in the greatest barbarism4 ,it might deserve to be considered whether pure philosophy in all its parts does not require a man specially devoted to it1 and whether it would not be better for the whole business of science if those who1 to please the tastes of the public1 are wont to blend the rational and empirical elements together1 mixed in all sorts of proportions unknown to themselves1 and who call themselves independent thinkers1 giving the name of minute philosophers to those who apply themselves to the rational part only--if these1 ,i say1 were warned not to carry on two employments together which differ widely in the treatment they demand1 for each of which perhaps a special talent is required1 and the combination of which in one person only produces bunglers4 ,but ,i only ask here whether the nature of science does not require that we should always carefully separate the empirical from the rational part1 and prefix to ,physics proper 7or empirical physics7 a metaphysic of nature1 and to practical anthropology a metaphysic of morals1 which must be carefully cleared of everything empirical1 so that we may know how much can be accomplished by pure reason in both cases1 and from whnat sources it draws this its a priori teaching1 and that whether the latter inquiry is conducted by all moralists 7whose name is legion71 or only by some who feel a calling thereto4 ,as my concern here is with moral philosophy1 ,i limit the question suggested to this3 ,whether it is not of the utmost necessity to construct a pure moral philosophy1 perfectly cleared of everything which is only empirical1 and which belongs to anthropology8 for that such a philosophy must be possible is evident from the common idea of duty and of the moral laws4 ,every one must admit that if a law is to have moral force1 i4 e4 to be the basis of an obligation1 it must carry with it absolute necessity2 that1 for example1 the precept1 ,thou shalt not lie1 is not valid for men alone1 as if other rational beings had no need to observe it2 and so with all the other moral laws properly so called2 that1 therefore1 the basis of obligation must not be sought in the nature of man1 or in the circumstanced in the world in which he is placed1 but a priori simply in the conceptions of pure reason2 and although any other precept which is founded on principles of mere experience may be in certain respects universal1 yet in as far as it rests even in the least degree on an empirical basis1 perhaps only as to a motive1 such a precept1 while it may be a practical rule1 can never be called a moral law4 ,thus not only are moral laws with their principles essentially distinguished from every other kind of practical knowledge in which there is anything empirical1 but all moral philosophy rests wholly on its pure part4 ,when applied to man1 it does not borrow the least thing from the knowledge of man himself 7anthropology71 but gives laws a priori to him as a rational being4 ,no doubt these laws require a judgment sharpened by experience1 in order on the one hand to distinguish in what cases they are applicable1 and on the other to procure for them access to the will of the man1 and effectual influence on conduct2 since man is acted on by so many inclinations that1 though capable of the idea of a practical pure reason1 he is not so easily able to make it effective in concrete in his life4 ,a metaphysic of morals is therefore indispensably necessary1 not merely for speculative reasons1 in order to investigate the sources of the practical principles which are to be found a priori in our reason1 but also because morals themselves are liable to all sorts of corruption1 as long as we are without that clue and supreme canon by which to estimate them correctly4 ,for in order that an action should be morally good1 it is not enough that it conform to the moral law1 but it must also be done for the sake of the law1 otherwise that conformity is only very contingent and uncertain2 since a principle which is not moral1 although it may now and then produce actions conformable to the law1 will also often produce actions which contradict it4 ,now it is only in a pure philosophy that we can look for the moral law in its purity and genuineness 7and1 in a practical matter1 this is of the utmost consequence73 we must1 therefore1 begin with pure philosophy 7metaphysic71 and without it there cannot be any moral philosophy at all4 ,that which mingles these pure principles with the empirical does not deserve the name of philosophy 7for what distinguishes philosophy from common rational knowledge is1 that it treats in separate sciences what the latter only comprehends confusedly72 much less does it deserve that of moral philosophy1 since by this confusion it even spoils the purity of morals themselves1 and counteracts its own end4 ,let it not be thought1 however1 that what is here demanded is already extant in the propaedeutic prefixed by the celebrated ,wolf ,footnote3 ,johann ,christian ,von ,wolf 7#afgi-agbh7 was the author of treatises on philosophy1 mathematics1 c41 which were for a long time the standard text-books in the ,german ,universities4 ,his philosophy was founded on that of ,leibnitz4 to his moral philosophy1 namely1 his so-called general practical philosophy1 and that1 therefore1 we have not to strike into an entirely new field4 ,just because it was to be a general practical philosophy1 it has not taken into consideration a will of any particular kind-say one which should be determined solely from a priori principles without any empirical motives1 and which we might call a pure will1 but volition in general1 with all the actions and conditions which belong to it in this general signification4 ,by this it is distinguished from a metaphysic of morals1 just as general logic1 which treats of the acts and canons of thought in general1 is distinguished from transcendental philosophy1 which treats of the particular acts and canons of pure thought1 i4 e4 that whose cognitions are altogether a priori4 ,for the metaphysic of morals has to examine the idea and the principles of a possible pure will1 and not the acts and conditions of human volition generally1 which for the most part are drawn from psychology4 ,it is true that moral laws and duty are spoken of in the general practical philosophy 7contrary indeed to all fitness74 ,but this is no objection1 for in this respect1 also the authors of that science remain true to their idea of it2 they do not distinguish the motives which are prescribed as such by reason alone altogether a priori1 and which are properly moral1 from the empirical motives which the understanding raises to general conceptions merely by comparison of experiences2 but without noticing the difference of their sources1 and looking on them all as homogeneous1 they consider only their greater or less amount4 ,it is in this way they frame their notion of obligation1 which though anything but moral1 is all that can be asked for in a philosophy which passes no judgment at all on the origin of all possible practical concepts1 whether they are a priori1 or only a posteriori4 ,intending to publish hereafter a metaphysic of morals1 ,i issue in the first instance these fundamental principles4 ,indeed there is properly no other foundation for it than the critical examination of a pure practical reason2 just as that of metaphysics is the critical examination of the pure speculative reason1 already published4 ,but in the first place the former is not so absolutely necessary as the latter1 because in moral concerns human reason can easily be brought to a high degree of correctness and completeness1 even in the commonest understanding1 while on the contrary in its theoretic but pure use it is wholly dialectical2 and in the second place if the critique of a pure practical reason is to be complete1 it must be possible at the same time to show its identity with the speculative reason in a common principle1 for it can ultimately be only one and the same reason which has to be distinguished merely in its application4 ,i could not1 however1 bring it to such completeness here1 without introducing considerations of a wholly different kind1 which would be perplexing to the reader4 ,on this account ,i have adopted the title of ,fundamental ,principles of the ,metaphysic of ,morals1 instead of that of a ,critical ,examination of the pure practical ,reason4 ,but in the third place1 since a metaphysic of morals1 in spite of the2 discouraging title1 is yet capable of being presented in a popular form1 and one adapted to the common understanding1 ,i find it useful to separate from it this preliminary treatise on its fundamental principles1 in order that ,i may not hereafter have need to introduce these necessarily subtle discussions into a book of a more simple character4 ,the present treatise is1 however1 nothing more than the investigation and establishment of the supreme principle of morality1 and this alone constitutes a study complete in itself1 and one which ought to be kept apart from every other moral investigation4 ,no doubt my conclusions on this weighty question1 which has hitherto been very unsatisfactorily examined1 would receive much light from the application of the same principle to the whole system1 and would be greatly confirmed by the adequacy which it exhibits throughout2 but ,i must forego this advantage1 which indeed would be after all more gratifying than useful1 since the easy applicability of a principle and its apparent adequacy give no very certain proof of its soundness1 but rather inspire a certain partiality1 which prevents us from examining and estimating it strictly in itself1 and without regard to consequences4 ,i have adopted in this work the method which ,i think most suitable1 proceeding analytically from common knowledge to the determination of its ultimate principle1 and again descending synthetically from the examination of this principle and its sources to the common knowledge in which we find it employed4 ,the division will1 therefore1 be as follows3-- #a4 ,first section4--,transition from the common rational knowledge of morality to the philosophical4 #b4 ,second section4--,transition from popular moral philosophy to the metaphysic of morals4 #c4 ,third section4--,final step from the metaphysic of morals to the critique of the pure practical reason4 ,,fundamental ,,principles ,,of ,,the ,,metaphysic ,,of ,,morals ,,first ,,section ,,transition ,,from ,,the ,,common ,,rational ,,knowledge ,,of ,,morality ,,to ,,the ,,philosophical ,nothing can possibly be conceived in the world1 of even out of it1 which can be called good without qualification1 except a ,good ,will ,intelligence1 wit1 judgment1 and the other talents of the mind1 however they may be named1 or courage1 resolution1 perseverance1 as qualities of temperament1 are undoubtedly good and desirable in many respects2 but these gifts of nature may also become extremely bad and mischievous if the will which is to make use of them1 and which1 therefore1 constitutes what is called character1 is not good4 ,it is the same with the gifts of fortune4 ,power1 riches1 honour1 even health1 and the general well-being and contentment with one's condition which is called happiness1 inspire pride1 and often presumption1 if there is not a good will to correct the influence of these on the mind1 and with this also to rectify the whole principle of acting1 and adapt it to its end4 ,the sight of a ,deing who is not adorned with a single feature of a pure and good will1 enjoying unbroken prosperity1 can never give pleasure to an impartial rational spectator4 ,thus a good will appears to constitute the indispensable condition even of being worthy of happiness4 ,there are even some qualities which are of service to this good will itself1 and may facilitate its action1 yet which have no intrinsic unconditional value1 but always presuppose a good will1 and this qualifies the esteem that we justly have for them1 and does not permit us to regard them as absolutely good4 ,moderation in the affections and passions1 self-control and calm deliberation are not only good in many respects1 but even seem to constitute part of the intrinsic worth of the person2 but they are far from deserving to be called good without qualification1 although they have been so unconditionally praised by the ancients4 ,for without the principles of a good will1 they may become extremely bad1 and the coolness of a villain not only makes him far more dangerous1 but also directly makes him more abominable in our eyes than he would have been without it4 ,a good will is good not because of what it performs or effects1 not by its aptness for the attainment of some proposed end1 but simply by virtue of the volition1 that is1 it is good in itself1 and considered by itself is to be esteemed much higher than all that can be brought about by it in favour of any inclination1 nay1 even of the sum total of all inclinations4 ,even if it should happen that1 owing to special disfavour of fortune1 or the niggardly provision of a stepmotherly nature1 this will should wholly lack power to accomplish its purpose1 if with its greatest efforts it should yet achieve nothing1 and there should remain only the good will 7not1 to be sure1 a mere wish1 but the summoning of all means in our power71 then1 like a jewel1 it would still shine by its own light1 as a thing which has its whole value in itself4 ,its usefulness or fruitfulness can neither add to nor take away anything from this value4 ,it would be1 as it were1 only the setting to enable us to handle it the more conveniently in common commerce1 or to attract to it the attention of those who are not yet connoisseurs1 but not to recommend it to true connoisseurs1 or to determine its value4 ,there is1 however1 something so strange in this idea of the absolute value of the mere will1 in which no account is taken of its utility1 that notwithstanding the thorough assent of even common reason to the idea1 yet a suspicion must arise that it may perhaps really be the product of mere high-flown fancy1 and that we may have misunderstood the purpose of nature in assigning reason as the governor of our will4 ,therefore we will examine this idea from this point of view4 ,in the physical constitution of an organized being1 that is1 a being adapted suitably to the purposes of life1 we assume it as a fundamental principle that no organ for any purpose will be found but what is also the fittest and best adapted for that purpose4 ,now in a being which has reason and a will1 if the proper object of nature were its conservation1 its welfare1 in a word1 its happiness1 then nature would have hit upon a very bad arrangement in selecting the reason of the creature to carry out this purpose4 ,for all the actions which the creature has to perform with a view to this purpose1 and the whole rule of its conduct1 would be far more surely prescribed to it by instinct1 and that end would have been attained thereby much more certainly than it ever can be by reason4 ,should reason have been communicated to this favoured creature over and above1 it must only have served it to contemplate the happy constitution of its nature1 to admire it1 to congratulate itself thereon1 and to feel thankful for it to the beneficent cause1 but not that it should subject its desires to that weak and delusive guidance1 and meddle bunglingly with the purpose of nature4 ,in a word1 nature would have taken care that reason should not break forth into practical exercise1 nor have the presumption1 with its weak insight1 to think out for itself the plan of happiness1 and of the means of attaining it4 ,nature would not only have taken on herself the choice of the ends1 but also of the means1 and with wise foresight would have entrusted both to instinct4 ,and1 in fact1 we find that the more a cultivated reason applies itself with deliberate purpose to the enjoyment of life and happiness1 so much the more does the man fail of true satisfaction4 ,and from this circumstance there arises in many1 if they are candid enough to confess it1 a certain degree of misology1 that is1 hatred of reason1 especially in the case of those who are most experienced in the use of it1 because after calculating all the advantages they derive1 ,i do not say from the invention of all the arts of common luxury1 but even from the sciences 7which seem to them to be after all only a luxury of the understanding71 they find that they have1 in fact1 only brought more trouble on their shoulders1 rather than gained in happiness2 and they end by envying1 rather than despising1 the more common stamp of men who keep closer to the guidance of mere instinct1 and do not allow their reason much influence on their conduct4 ,and this we must admit1 that the judgment of those who would very much lower the lofty eulogies of the advantages which reason gives us in regard to the happiness and satisfaction of life1 or who would even reduce them below zero1 is by no means morose or ungrateful to the goodness with which the world is governed1 but that there lies at the root of these judgments the idea that our existence has a different and far nobler end1 for which1 and not for happiness1 reason is properly intended1 and which must1 therefore1 be regarded as the supreme condition to which the private ends of man must1 for the most part1 be postponed4 ,for as reason is not competent to guide the will with certainty in regard to its objects and the satisfaction of all our wants 7which it to some extent even multiplies71 this being an end to which an implanted instinct would have led with much greater certainty2 and since1 nevertheless1 reason is imparted to us as a practical faculty1 i4 e4 as one which is to have influence on the will1 therefore1 admitting that nature generally in the distribution of her capacities has adapted the means to the end1 its true destination must be to produce a will1 not merely good as a means to something else1 but good in itself1 for which reason was absolutely necessary4 ,this will then1 though not indeed the sole and complete good1 must be the supreme good and the condition of every other1 even of the desire of happiness4 ,under these circumstances1 there is nothing inconsistent with the wisdom of nature in the fact that the cultivation of the reason1 which is requisite for the first and unconditional purpose1 does in many ways interfere1 at least in this life1 with the attainment of the second1 which is always conditional1 namely1 happiness4 ,nay1 it may even reduce it to nothing1 without nature thereby failing of her purpose4 ,for reason recognises the establishment of a good will as its highest practical destination1 and in attaining this purpose is capable only of a satisfaction of its own proper kind1 namely1 that from the attainment of an end1 which end again is determined by reason only1 notwithstanding that this may involve many a disappointment to the ends of inclination4 ,we have then to develop the notion of a will which deserves to be highly esteemed for itself1 and is good without a view to anything further1 a notion which exists already in the sound natural understanding1 requiring rather to be cleared up than to be taught1 and which in estimating the value of our actions always takes the first place1 and constitutes the condition of all the rest4 ,in order to do this we will take the notion of duty1 which includes that of a good will1 although implying certain subjectve restrictions and hindrances4 ,these1 however1 far from concealing it1 or rendering it unrecognisable1 rather bring it out by contrast1 and make it shine forth so much the brighter4 ,i omit here all actions which are already recognised as inconsistent with duty1 although they may be useful for this or that purpose1 for with these the question whether they are done from duty cannot arise at all1 since they even conflict with it4 ,i also set aside those actions which really conform to duty1 but to which men have no direct inclination1 performing them because they are impelled thereto by some other inclination4 ,for in this case we can readily distinguish whether the action which agrees with duty is done from duty1 or from a selfish view4 ,it is much harder to make this distinction when the action accords with duty1 and the subject has besides a direct inclination to it4 ,for example1 it is always a matter of duty that a dealer should not overcharge an inexperienced purchaser1 and wherever there is much commerce the prudent tradesman does not overcharge1 but keeps a fixed price for everyone1 so that a child buys of him as well as any other4 ,men are thus honestly served2 but this is not enough to make us believe that the tradesman has so acted from duty and from principles of honesty3 his own advantage required it2 it is out of the question in this case to suppose that he might besides have a direct inclination in favour of the buyers1 so that1 as it were1 from love he should give no advantage to one over another4 ,accordingly the action was done neither from duty nor from direct inclination1 but merely with a selfish view4 ,on the other hand1 it is a duty to maintain one's life2 and1 in addition1 everyone has also a direct inclination to do so4 ,but on this account the often anxious care which most men take for it has no intrinsic worth1 and their maxim has no moral import4 ,they preserve their life as duty requires1 no doubt1 but not because duty requires4 ,on the other hand1 if adversity and hopeless sorrow have completely taken away the relish for life2 if the unfortunate one1 strong in mind1 indignant at his fate rather than desponding or dejected1 wishes for death1 and yet preserves his life without loving it--not from inclination or fear1 but from duty--then his maxim has a moral worth4 ,to be beneficent when we can is a duty2 and besides this1 there are many minds so sympathetically constituted that1 without any other motive of vanity or self-interest1 they find a pleasure in spreading joy around them and can take delight in the satisfaction of others so far as it is their own work4 ,but ,i maintain that in such a case an action of this kind1 however proper1 however amiable it may be1 has nevertheless no true moral worth1 but is on a level with other inclinations1 e4 g4 the inclination to honour1 which1 if it is happily directed to that which is in fact of public utility and accordant with duty1 and consequently honourable1 deserves praise and encouragement1 but not esteem4 ,for the maxim lacks the moral import1 namely1 that such actions be done from duty1 not from inclination4 ,put the case that the mind of that philanthropist were clouded by sorrow of his own1 extinguishing all sympathy with the lot of others1 and that while he still has the power to benefit others in distress1 he is not touched oy their trouble because he is absorbed with his own2 and now suppose that he tears himself out of this dead insensibility1 and performs the action without any inclination to it1 but simply from duty1 then first has his action its genuine moral worth4 ,further still2 if nature has put little sympathy in the heart of this or that man2 if he1 supposed to be an upright man1 is by temperament cold and indifferent to the sufferings of others1 perhaps because in respect of his own he is provided with the special gift of patience and fortitude1 and supposes1 or even requires1 that others should have the same--and such a man would certainly not be the meanest product of nature--but if nature had not specially framed him for a philanthropist1 would he not still find in himself a source from whence to give himself a far higher worth than that of a good-natured temperament could be8 ,unquestionably4 ,it is just in this that the moral worth of the character is brought out which is incomparably the highest of all1 namely1 that he is beneficent1 not from inclination1 but from duty4 ,to secure one's own happiness is a duty1 at least indirectly2 for discontent with one's condition1 under a pressure of many anxieties and amidst unsatisfied wants1 might easily become a great temptation to transgression of duty4 ,but here again1 without looking to duty1 all men have already the strongest and most intimate inclination to happiness1 because it is just in this idea that all inclinations are combined in one total4 ,but the precept of happiness is often of such a sort that it greatly interferes with some inclinations1 and yet a man cannot form any definite and certain conception of the sum of satisfaction of all of them which is called happiness4 ,it is not then to be wandered at that a single inclination1 definite both as to what it promises and as to the time within which it can be gratified1 is often able to overcome such a fluctuating idea1 and that a gouty patient1 for instance1 can choose to enjoy what he likes1 and to suffer what he may1 since1 according to his calculation1 on this occasion at least1 he has only not sacrificed the enjoyment of the present moment to a possibly mistaken expectation of a happiness which is supposed to be found in health4 ,but even in this case1 if the general desire for happiness did not influence his will1 and supposing that in his particular case health was not a necessary element in this calculation1 there yet remains in this1 sas in all other cases1 this law1 namely1 that he should promote his happiness not from inclination but from duty1 land by this would his conduct first acquire true moral worth4 ,it is in this manner1 undoubtedly1 that we are to understand those passages of ,scripture also in which we are commanded to love our neighbour1 even our enemy4 ,for love1 as an affection1 cannot be commanded1 but beneficence for duty's sake may2 even though we are not impelled to it by any inclination--nay1 are even repelled by a natural and unconquerable aversion4 ,this is practical love1 and not pathological--a love which is seated in the will1 and not in the propensions of sense--in principles of action and not of tender sympathy2 and it is this love alone which can be commanded4 ,the second ,footnote3 ,the first proposition was that to have moral worth an action must be done from duty4 proposition is3 ,that an action done from duty derives its moral worth1 not from the purpose which is to be attained by it1 but from the maxim by which it is determined1 and therefore does not depend on the realization of the object of the action1 but merely on the principle of volition by which the action has taken place1 without regard to any object of desire4 ,it is clear from what precedes that the purposes which we may have in view in our actions1 or their effects regarded as ends and springs of the will1 cannot give to actions any unconditional or moral worth4 ,in what1 then1 can their worth lie1 if it is not to consist in the will and in reference to its expected effect8 ,it cannot lie anywhere but in the principle of the will without regard to the ends which can be attained by the action4 ,for the will stands between its a priori principle1 which is formal1 and its a posteriori spring1 which is material1 as between two roads1 and as it must be determined by something1 it follows that it must be determined by the formal principle of volition when an action is done from duty1 in which case every material principle has been withdrawn from it4 ,the third proposition1 which is a consequence of the two preceding1 ,i would express thus3 ,duty is the necessity of acting from respect for the law4 ,i may have inclination for an object as the effect of my proposed action1 but ,i cannot have respect for it1 just for this reason1 that it is an effect and not an energy of will4 ,similarly1 ,i cannot have respect for inclination1 whether my own or another's2 ,i can at most1 if my own1 approve it2 if another's1 sometimes even love it2 i4e4 look on it as favourable to my own interest4 ,it is only what is connected with my will as a principle1 by no means as an effect--what does not subserve my inclination1 but overpowers it1 or at least in case of choice excludes it from its calculation--in other words1 simply the law of itself1 which can be an object of respect1 and hence a command4 ,now an action done from duty must wholly exclude the influence of inclination1 and with it every object of the will1 so that nothing remains which can determine the will except objectively the ,,law1 and subjectively ,,pure ,,respect for this practical law1 and consequently the maxim ,footnote3 ,a ,,maxim is the subjective principle of volition4 ,the objective principle 7i4 e4 that which would also serve subjectively as a practical principle to all rational beings if reason had full power over the faculty of desire7 is the practical ,,law4 that ,i should follow this law even to the thwarting of all my inclinations4 ,thus the moral worth of an action does not lie in the effect expected from it1 nor in any principle of action which requires to borrow its motive from this expected effeet4 ,for all these effects-- agreeableness of one's condition1 and even the promotion of the happiness of others--could have been also brought about by other causes1 so that for this there would have been no need of the will of a rational being2 whereas it is in this alone that the supreme and unconditional good can be found4 ,the pre-eminent good which we call moral can therefore consist in nothing else than ,,the ,,conception ,,of ,,law in itself1 ,,which ,,certainly ,,is ,,only ,,possible ,,in ,a ,,rational ,,being1 in so far as this conception1 and not the expected effect1 determines the will4 ,this is a good which is already present in the person who acts accordingly1 and we have not to wait for it to appear first in the result4 ,footnote3 ,it might be here objected to me that ,i take refuge behind the word ,,respect in an obscure feeling1 instead of giving a distinct solution of the question by a concept of the reason4 ,but although respect is a feeling1 it is not a feeling ,,received through influence1 but is ,,self-,,wrought by a rational concept1 and1 therefore1 is specifically distinct from all feelings of the former kind1 which may be referred either to inclination or fear1 ,what ,i recognise immediately as a law for me1 ,i recognise with respect4 ,this merely signifies the consciousness that my will is ,,subordinate to a law1 without the intervention of other influences on my sense4 ,the immediate determination of the will by the law1 and the consciousness of this is called ,,respect1 so that this is regarded as an ,,effect of the law on the subject1 and not as the ,,cause of it4 ,respect is properly the conception of a worth which thwarts my self-love4 ,accordingly it is something which is considered neither as am object of inclination nor of fear1 although it has something analogous to both4 ,the ,,object of respect is the ,,law only1 and that1 the law which we impose on ,,ourselves1 and yet recognise as necessary in itself4 ,as a law1 we are subjected to it without consulting self-love2 as imposed by us on ourselves1 it is a result of our will4 ,in the former aspect it has an analogy to fear1 in the latter to inclination4 ,respect for a person is properly only respect for the law 7of honesty1 c471 of which he gives us an example4 ,since we also look on the improvement of our talents as a duty1 we consider that we see in a person of talents1 as it were1 the ,,example ,,of ,a ,,law 7viz4 to become like him in this by exercise71 and this constitutes our respect4 ,all so-called moral ,,interest consists simply in ,,respect for the law4 ,but what sort of law can that be1 the conception of which must determine the will1 even without paying any regard to the effect expected from it1 in order that this will may be called good absolutely and without qualification8 ,as ,i have deprived the will of every impulse which could arise to it from obedience to any law1 there remains nothing but the universal conformity of its actions to law in general1 which alone is to serve the will as a principle1 i4 e4 ,i am never to act otherwise than so ,,that ,i ,,could ,,also ,,will ,,that ,,my ,,maxim ,,should ,,become ,a ,,universal ,,law4 ,here now1 it is the simple conformity to law in general1 without assuming any particular law applicable to certain actions1 that serves the will as its principle1 and must so serve it1 if duty is not to be a vain delusion and a chimerical notion4 ,the common reason of men in its practical judgments perfectly coincides with this1 and always has in view the principle here suggested4 ,let the question be1 for example3 ,may ,i when in distress make a promise with the intention not to keep it8 ,i readily distinguish here between the two significations which the question may have4 ,whether it is prudent1 or whether it is right1 to make a false promise4 ,the former may undoubtedly often be the case4 ,i see clearly indeed that it is not enough to extricate myself from a present difficulty by means of this subterfuge1 but it must be well considered whether there may not hereafter spring from this lie much greater inconvenience than that from which ,i now free myself1 and as1 with all my supposed ,,cunning1 the consequences cannot be so easily foreseen but that credit once lost may be much more injurious to me than any mischief which ,i seek to avoid at present1 it should be considered whether it would not be more prudent to act herein according to a universal maxim1 and to make it a habit to promise nothing except with the intention of keeping it4 ,but it is soon clear to me that such a maxim will still only be based on the fear of consequences4 ,now it is a wholly different thing to be truthful from duty1 and to be so from apprehension of injurious consequences4 ,in the first case1 the very notion of the action already implies a law for me2 in the second case1 ,i must first look about elsewhere to see what results may be combined with it which would affect myself4 ,for to deviate from the principle of duty is beyond all doubt wicked2 but to be unfaithful to my maxim of prudence may often be very advantageous to me1 although to abide by it is certainly safer4 ,the shortest way1 however1 and an unerring one1 to discover the answer to this question whether a lying promise is consistent with duty1 is to ask myself1 ,should ,i be content that my maxim 7to extricate myself from difficulty by a false promise7 should hold good as a universal law1 for myself as well as for others8 and should ,i be able to say to myself1 ,every one may make a deceitful promise when he finds himself in a difficulty from which he cannot otherwise extricate himself8 ,then ,i presently become aware that while ,i can will the lie1 ,i can by no means will that lying should be a universal law4 ,for with such a law there would be no promises at all1 since it would be in vain to allege my intention in regard to my future actions to those who would not believe this allegation1 or if they overhastily did so1 would pay me back in my own coin4 ,hence my maxim1 as soon as it should be made a universal law1 would necessarily destroy itself4 ,i do not1 therefore1 need any far-reaching penetration to discern what ,i have to do in order that my will may be morally good4 ,inexperienced in the course of the world1 incapable of being prepared for all its contingencies1 ,i only ask myself3 ,canst thou also will that thy maxim should be a universal law8 ,if not1 then it must be rejected1 and that not because of a disadvantage accruing from it to myself or even to others1 but because it cannot enter as a principle into a possible universal legislation1 and reason extorts from me immediate respect for such legislation4 ,i do not indeed as yet discern on what this respect is based 7this the philosopher may inquire71 but at least ,i understand this1 that it is an estimation of the worth which far outweighs all worth of what is recommended by inclination1 and that the necessity of acting from pure respect for the practical law is what constitutes duty1 to which every other motive must give place1 because it is the condition of a will being good in itself1 and the worth of such a will is above everything4 ,thus1 then1 without quitting the moral knowledge of common human reason1 we have arrived at its principle4 ,and although1 no doubt1 common men do not conceive it in such an abstract and universal form1 yet they always have it really before their eyes1 and use it as the standard of their decision4 ,here it would be easy to show how1 with this compass in hand1 men are well able to distinguish1 in every case that occurs1 what is good1 what bad1 conformably to duty or inconsistent with it1 if1 without in the least teaching them anything new1 we only1 like ,socrates1 direct their attention to the principle they themselves employ2 and that therefore we do not need science and philosophy to know what we should do to be honest and good1 yea1 even wise and virtuous4 ,indeed we might well have conjectured beforehand that the knowledge of what every man is bound to do1 and therefore also to know1 would be within the reach of every man1 even the commonest4 ,footnote3 ,compare the note to the ,preface to the ,critique of the ,practical ,reason1 p4 #aaa4 ,a specimen of ,kant's proposed application of the ,socratic method may be found in ,mr4 ,semple'a translation of the ,metaphysic of ,ethics1 p4 #bij4 ,here we cannot forbear admiration when we see how great an advantage the practical judgment has over the theoretical in the common understanding of men4 ,in the latter1 if common reason ventures to depart from the laws of experience and from the perceptions of the senses it falls into mere inconceivabilities and self-contradictions1 at least into chaos of uncertainty1 obscurity1 and instability4 ,but in the practical sphere it is just when the common understanding excludes all sensible springs from practical laws that its power of judgment begins to show itself to advantage4 ,it then becomes even subtle1 whether it be that it chicanes with its own conscience or with other claims respecting what is to be called right1 or whether it desires for its own instruction to determine honestly the worth of actions2 and1 in the latter case1 it may even have as good a hope of hitting the mark as any philosopher whatever can promise himself4 ,nay1 it is almost more sure of doing so1 because the philosopher cannot have any other principle1 while he may easily perplex his judgment by a multitude of considerations foreign to the matter1 and so turn aside from the right way4 ,would it not therefore be wiser in moral concerns to acquiesce in the judgment of common reason or at most only to call in philosophy for the purpose of rendering the system of morals more complete and intelligible1 and its rules more convenient for use 7especially for disputation71 but not so as to draw off the common understanding from its happy simplicity1 or to bring it by means of philosophy into a new path of inquiry and instruction8 ,innocence is indeed a glorious thing1 only1 on the other hand1 it is very sad that it cannot well maintain itself1 and is easily seduced4 ,on this account even wisdom--which otherwise consists more in conduct than in knowledge--yet has need of science1 not in order to learn from it1 but to secure for its precepts admission and permanence4 ,against all the commands of duty which reason represents to man as so deserving of respect1 he feels in himself a powerful counterpoise in his wants and inclinations1 the entire satisfaction of which he sums up under the name of happiness4 ,now reason issues its commands unyieldingly1 without promising anything to the inclinations1 and1 as it were1 with disregard and contempt for these claims1 which are so impetuous1 and at the same time so plausible1 and which will not allow themselves to be suppressed by any command4 ,hence there arises a natural dialectic1 i4 e4 a disposition1 to argue against these strict laws of duty and to question their validity1 or at least their purity and strictness2 and1 if possible1 to make them more accordant with our wishes and inclinations1 that is to say1 to corrupt them at their very source1 and entirely to destroy their worth--a thing which even common practical reason cannot ultimately call good4 ,thus is the common reason of man compelled to go out of its sphere1 and to take a step into the field of a practical philosophy1 not to satisfy any speculative want 7which never occurs to it as long as it is content to be mere sound reason71 but even on practical grounds1 in order to attain in it information and clear instruction respecting the source of its principle1 and the correct determination of it in opposition to the maxims which are based on wants and inclinations1 so that it may escape from the perplexity of opposite claims1 and not run the risk of losing all genuine moral principles through the equivocation into which it easily falls4 ,thus1 when practical reason cultivates itself1 there insensibly arises in it a dialectic which forces it to seek aid in philosophy1 just as happens to it in its theoretic use2 and in this case1 therefore1 as well as in the other1 it will find rest nowhere but in a thorough critical examination of our reason4 ,,second ,,section ,,transition ,,from ,,popular ,,moral ,,philosophy ,,to ,,the ,,metaphysic ,,of ,,morals ,if we have hitherto drawn our notion of duty from the common use of our practical reason1 it is by no means to be inferred that we have treated it as an empirical notion4 ,on the contrary1 if we attend to the experience of men's conduct1 we meet frequent and1 as we ourselves allow1 just complaints that one cannot find a single certain example of the disposition to act from pure duty4 ,although many things are done in conformity with what duty prescribes1 it is nevertheless always doubtful whether they are done strictly from duty1 so as to have a moral worth4 ,hence there have1 at all times1 been philosophers who have altogether denied that this disposition actually exists at all in human actions1 and have ascribed everything to a more or less refined self-love4 ,not that they have on that account questioned the soundness of the conception of morality2 on the contrary1 they spoke with sincere regret of the frailty and corruption of human nature1 which thought noble enough to take as its rule an idea so worthy of respect1 is yet too weak to follow it1 and employs reason1 which ought to give it the law only for the purpose of providing for the interest of the inclinations1 whether singly or at the best in the greatest possible harmony with one another4 ,in fact1 it is absolutely impossible to make out by experience with complete certainty a single case in which the maxim of an action1 however right in itself1 rested simply on moral grounds and on the conception of duty4 ,sometimes it happens that with the sharpest self-examination we can find nothing beside the moral principle of duty which could have been powerful enough to move us to this or that action and to so great a sacrifice2 yet we cannot from this infer with certainty that it was not really some secret impulse of self-love1 under the false appearance of duty1 that was the actual determining cause of the will4 ,we like then to flatter ourselves by falsely taking credit for a more noble motive2 whereas in fact we can never1 even by the strictest examination1 get completely behind the secret springs of action2 since1 when the question is of moral worth1 it is not with the actions which we see that we are concerned1 but with those inward principles of them which we do not see4 ,moreover1 we cannot better serve the wishes of those who ridicule all morality as a mere chimera of human imagination overstepping itself from vanity1 than by conceding to them that notions of duty must be drawn only from experience 7as from indolence1 people are ready to think is also the case with all other notions72 for this is to prepare for them a certain triumph4 ,i am willing to admit out of love of humanity that even most of our actions are correct1 but if we look closer at them we everywhere come upon the dear self which is always prominent1 and it is this they have in view1 and not the strict command of duty which would often require self-denial4 ,without being an enemy of virtue1 a cool observer1 one that does not mistake the wish for good1 however lively1 for its reality1 may sometimes doubt whether true virtue is actually found anywhere in the world1 and this especially as years increase and the judgment is partly made wiser by experience1 and partly also more acute in observation4 ,this being so1 nothing can secure us from falling away altogether from our ideas of duty1 or maintain in the soul a well- grounded respect for its law1 but the clear conviction that although there should never have been actions which really sprang from such pure sources1 yet whether this or that takes place is not at all the question2 but that reason of itself1 independent on all experience1 ordains what ought to take place1 that accordingly actions of which perhaps the world has hitherto never given an example1 the feasibility even of which might be very much doubted by one who founds everything on experience1 are nevertheless inflexibly commanded by reason2 that1 ex4 gr4 even though there might never yet have been a sincere friend1 yet not a whit the less is pure sincerity in friendship required of every man1 because1 prior to all experience1 this duty is involved as duty in the idea of a reason determining the will by a priori principles4 ,when we add further that1 unless we deny that the notion of morality has any truth or reference to any possible object1 we must admit that its law must be valid1 not merely for men1 but for all rational creatures generally1 not merely under certain contingent conditions or with exceptions1 but with absolute necessity1 then it is clear that no experience could enable us to infer even the possibility of such apodictic laws4 ,for with what right could we bring into unbounded respect as a universal precept for every rational nature that which perhaps holds only under the contingent conditions of humanity8 ,or how could laws of the determination of ,,our will be regarded as laws of the determination of the will of rational beings generally1 and for us only as such1 if they were merely empirical1 and did not take their origin wholly a priori from pure but practical reason8 ,nor could anything be more fatal to morality than that we should wish to derive it from examples4 ,for every example of it that is set before me must be first itself tested by principles of morality1 whether it is worthy to serve as an original example1 i4 e41 as a pattern1 but by no means can it authoritatively furnish the conception of morality4 ,even the ,holy ,one of the ,gospels must first be compared with our ideal of moral perfection before we can recognise ,him as such2 and so ,he says of ,himself1 ,why call ye ,me 7whom you see7 good2 none is good 7the model of good7 but ,god only 7whom ye do not see78 ,but whence have we the conception of ,god as the supreme good8 ,simply from the ,,idea of moral perfection1 which reason frames a priori1 and connects inseparably with the notion of a free-will4 ,imitation finds no place at all in morality1 and examples serve only for encouragement1 i4 e4 they put beyond doubt the feasibility of what the law commands1 they make visible that which the practical rule expresses more generally1 but they can never authorise us to set aside the true original which lies in reason1 and to guide ourselves by examples4 ,if then there is no genuine supreme principle of morality but what must rest simply on pure reason1 independent on all experience1 ,i think it is not necessary even to put the question1 whether it is good to exhibit these concepts in their generality 7in abstracto7 as they are established a priori along with the principles belonging to them1 if our knowledge is to be distinguished from the vulgar1 and to be called philosophical4 ,in our times indeed this might perhaps be necessary2 for if we collected votes1 whether pure rational knowledge separated from everything empirical1 that is to say1 metaphysic of morals1 or whether popular practical philosophy is to be preferred1 it is easy to guess which side would preponderate4 ,this descending to popular notions is certainly very commendable1 if the ascent to the principles of pure reason has first taken place and been satisfactorily accomplished4 ,this implies that we first found ,ethics on ,metaphysics1 and then1 when it is firmly established1 procure a hearing for it by giving it a popular character4 ,but it is quite absurd to try to be popular in the first inquiry1 on which the soundness of the principles depends4 ,it is not only that this proceeding can never lay claim to the very rare merit of a true philosophical popularity1 since there is no art in being intelligible if one renounces all thoroughness of insight2 but also it produces a disgusting medley of compiled observations and half- reasoned principles4 ,shallow pates enjoy this because it can be used for every-day chat1 but the sagacious find in it only confusion1 and being unsatisfied and unable to help themselves1 they turn away their eyes1 while philosophers1 who see quite well through this delusion1 are little listened to when they call men off for a time from this pretended popularity1 in order that they might be rightfully popular after they have attained a definite insight4 ,we need only look at the attempts of moralists in that favourite fashion1 and we shall find at one time the ,special constitution of human nature 7including1 however1 the idea of a rational nature generally71 at one time perfection1 at another happiness1 here moral sense1 there fear of ,god1 a little of this1 and a little of that1 in marvellous mixture1 without its occurring to them to ask whether the principles of morality are to be sought in the knowledge of human nature at all 7which we can have only from experience72 and1 if this is not so1 if these principles are to be found altogether a priori free from everything empirical1 in pure rational concepts only1 and nowhere else1 not even in the smallest degree2 then rather to adopt the method of making this a separate inquiry1 as pure practical philosophy1 or 7if one may use a name so decried7 as metaphysic of morals1 ,footnote3 ,just as pure mathematics are distinguished from applied1 pure logic from applied1 so if we choose we may alse distinguish pure philosophy of morals 7metaphysic7 from applied 7viz4 applied to human nature74 ,by this designation we are also at once reminded that moral principles are not based on properties of human nature1 but must subsist a priori of themselves while from such principles practical rules must be capable of being deduced for every rational nature1 and accordingly for that of man4 to bring it by itself to completeness1 and to require the public1 which wishes for popular treatment1 to await the issue of this undertaking4 ,such a metaphysic of morals1 completely isolated1 not mixed with any anthropology1 theology1 physics1 or hyperphysics1 and still less with occult qualities 7which we might call hypophysical71 is not only an indispensable substratum of all sound theoretical knowledge of duties1 but is at the same time a desideratum of the highest importance to the actual fulfilment of their precepts4 ,for the pure conception of duty1 unmixed with any foreign addition of empirical attractions1 and1 in a word1 the conception of the moral law1 exercises on the human heart1 by way of reason alone 7which first becomes aware with this that it can of itself be practical71 an influence so much more powerful than all other springs ,footnote3 ,i have a letter from the late excellent ,sulzer1 in which he asks me what can be the reason that moral instruction1 although containing much that is convincing for the reason1 yet accomplishes so little8 ,my answer was postponed in order that ,i might make it complete4 ,but it is simply this1 that the teachers themselves have not got their own notions clear1 and when they endeavour to make up for this by raking up motives of moral goodness from every quarter1 trying to make their physic right strong1 they spoil it4 ,for the commonest understanding shows that if we imagine1 on the one hand1 an act of honesty done with steadfast mind1 apart from every view to advantage of any kind in this world or another1 and even under the greatest temptations of necessity or allurement1 and1 on the other hand1 a similar act which was affected1 in however low a degree1 by a foreign motive1 the former leaves far behind and eclipses the second2 it elevates the soul1 and inspires the wish to be able to act in like manner oneself4 ,even moderately young children feel this impression1 and one should never represent duties to them in any other light4 which may be derived from the field of experience1 that in the consciousness of its worth1 despises the latter1 and can by degrees become their master2 whereas a mixed ethics1 compounded partly of motives drawn from feelings and inclinations1 and partly also of conceptions of reason1 must make the mind waver between motives which cannot be brought under any principle1 which lead to good only by mere accident1 and very often also to evil4 ,from what has been said1 it is clear that all moral conceptions have their seat and origin completely a priori in the reason1 and that1 moreover1 in the commonest reason just as truly as in that which is in the highest degree speculative2 that they cannot be obtained by abstraction from any empirical1 and therefore merely contingent knowledge2 that it is just this purity of their origin that makes them worthy to serve as our supreme practical principle1 and that just in proportion as we add anything empirical1 we detract from their genuine influence1 and from the absolute value of actions2 that it is not only of the greatest necessity1 in a purely speculative point of view1 but is also of the greatest practical importance to derive these notions and laws from pure reason1 to present them pure and unmixed1 and even to determine the compass of this practical or pure rational knowledge1 i4 e4 to determine the whole faculty of pure practical reason2 and1 in doing so1 we must not make its principles dependent on the particular nature of human reason1 though in speculative philosophy this may be permitted1 or may even at times be necessary2 but since moral laws ought to hold good for every rational creature1 we must derive them from the general concept of a rational being4 ,in this way1 although for its application to man morality has need of anthropology1 yet1 in the first instance1 we must treat it independently as pure philosophy1 i4 e4 as metaphysic1 complete in itself 7a thing which in such distinct branches of science is easily done72 knowing well that unless we are in possession of this1 it would not only be vain to determine the moral element of duty in right actions for purposes of speculative criticism1 but it would be impossible to base morals on their genuine principles1 even for common practical purposes1 especially of moral instruction1 so as to produce pure moral dispositions1 and to engraft them on men's minds to the promotion of the greatest possible good in the world4 ,but in order that in this study we may not merely advance by the natural steps from the common moral judgment 7in this case very worthy of respect7 to the philosophical1 as has been already done1 but also from a popular philosophy1 which goes no further than it can reach by groping with the help of examples1 to metaphysic 7which does not allow itself to be checked by anything empirical1 and as it must measure the whole extent of this kind of rational knowledge1 goes as far as ideal conceptions1 where even examples fail us71 we must follow and clearly describe the practical faculty of reason1 from the general rules of its determination to the point where the notion of duty springs from it4 ,everything in nature works according to laws4 ,rational beings alone have the faculty of acting according to the conception of laws1 that is according to principles1 i4 e41 have a will4 ,since the deduction of actions from principles requires reason1 the will is nothing but practical reason4 ,if reason infallibly determines the will1 then the actions of such a being which are recognised as objectively necessary are subjectively necessary also1 i4 e41 the will is a faculty to choose that only which reason independent on inclination recognises as practically necessary1 i4 e41 as good4 ,but if reason of itself does not sufficiently determine the will1 if the latter is subject also to subjective conditions 7particular impulses7 which do not always coincide with the objective conditions2 in a word1 if the will does not in itself completely accord with reason 7which is actually the case with men71 then the actions which objectively are recognised as necessary are subjectively contingent1 and the determination of such a will according to objective laws is obligation1 that is to say1 the relation of the objective laws to a will that is not thoroughly good is conceived as the determination of the will of a rational being by principles of reason1 but which the will from its nature does not of necessity follow4 ,the conception of an objective principle1 in so far as it is obligatory for a will1 is called a command 7of reason72 and the formula of the command is called an ,imperative4 ,all imperatives are expressed by the word ,,ought or ,,shall1 and thereby indicate the relation of an objective law of reason to a will1 which from its subjective constitution is not necessarily determined by it 7an obligation74 ,they say that something would be good to do or to forbear1 but they say it to a will which does not always do a thing because it is conceived to be good to do it4 ,that is practically ,,good1 however1 which determines the will by means of the conceptions of reason1 and consequently not from subjective causes1 but objectively1 that is on principles which are valid for every rational being as such4 ,it is distinguished from the ,,pleasant1 as that which influences the will only by means of sensation from merely subjective causes1 valid only for the sense of this or that one1 and not as a principle of reason1 which holds for every one4 ,footnote #c3 ,the dependence of the desires on sensations is called inclination1 and this accordingly always indicates a ,,want4 ,the dependence of a contingently determinable will on principles of reason is called an ,,interest4 ,this therefore is found only in the case of a dependent will1 which does not always of itself conform to reason2 in the ,divine will we cannot conceive any interest4 ,but the human will can also ,,take ,,an ,,interest in a thing without therefore acting ,,from ,,interest4 ,the former signifies the ,,practical interest in the action1 the latter the ,,pathological in the object of the action4 ,the former indicates only dependence of the will or principles of reason in themselves2 the second1 dependence on principles of reason for the sake of inclination1 reason supplying only the practical rules how the requirement of the inclination may he satisfied4 ,in the first case the action interests me2 in the second the object of the action 7because it is pleasant to me71 ,we have seen in the first section that in an action done from duty we must look not to the interest in the object1 but only to that in the action itself1 and in its rational principle 7viz4 the law74 ,a perfectly good will would therefore be equally subject to objective laws 7viz4 laws of good71 but could not be conceived as ,,obliged thereby to act lawfully1 because of itself from its subjective constitution it can only be determined by the conception of good4 ,therefore no imperatives hold for the ,divine will1 or in general for a ,,holy will2 ,,ought is here out of place1 because the volition is already of itself necessarily in unison with the law4 ,therefore imperatives are only formulae to express the relation of objective laws of all volition to the subjective imperfection of the will of this or that rational being1 e4 g4 the human will4 ,now all ,,imperatives command either ,,hypothetically or ,,categorically4 ,the former represent the practical necessity of a possible action as means to something else that is willed 7or at least which one might possibly will74 ,the categorical imperative would be that which represented an action as necessary of itself without reference to another end1 i4 e41 as objectively necessary4 ,since every practical law represents a possible action as good1 and on this account1 for a subject who is practically determinable by reason1 necessary1 all imperatives are formulae determining an action which is necessary according to the principle of a will good in some respects4 ,if now the action is good only as a means ,,to ,,something ,,else1 then the imperative is ,,hypothetical2 if it is conceived as good ,,in ,,itself and consequently as being necessarily the principle of a will which of itself conforms to reason1 then it is ,,categorical4 ,thus the imperative declares what action possible by me would be good1 and presents the practical rule in relation to a will which does not forthwith perform an action simply because it is good1 whether because the subject does not always know that it is good1 or because1 even if it know this1 yet its maxims might be opposed to the objective principles of practical reason4 ,accordingly the hypothetical imperative only says that the action is good for some purpose1 ,,possible or ,,actual4 ,in the first case it is a ,problematical1 in the second an ,assertorial practical principle4 ,the categorical imperative which declares an action to be objectively necessary in itself without reference to any purpose1 i4 e41 without any other end1 is valid as an ,apodictic 7practical7 principle4 ,whatever is possible only by the power of some rational being may also be conceived as a possible purpose of some will2 and therefore the principles of action as regards the means necessary to attain some possible purpose are in fact infinitely numerous4 ,all sciences have a practical part1 consisting of problems expressing that some end is possible for us1 and of imperatives directing how it may be attained4 ,these may1 therefore1 be called in general imperatives of ,skill4 ,here there is no question whether the end is rational and good1 but only what one must do in order to attain it4 ,the precepts for the physician to make his patient thoroughly healthy1 and for a poisoner to ensure certain death1 are of equal value in this respect1 that each serves to effect its purpose perfectly4 ,since in early youth it cannot be known what ends are likely to occur to us in the course of life1 parents seek to have their children taught a great many things1 and provide for their skill in the use of means for all sorts of arbitrary ends1 of none of which can they determine whether it may not perhaps hereafter be an object to their pupil1 but which it is at all events possible that he might aim at2 and this anxiety is so great that they commonly neglect to form and correct their judgment on the value of the things which may be chosen as ends4 ,there is one end1 however1 which may be assumed to be actually such to all rational beings 7so far as imperatives apply to them1 viz4 as dependent beings71 and therefore1 one purpose which they not merely ,,may have1 but which we may with certainty assume that they all actually ,,have by a natural necessity1 and this is ,,happiness4 ,the hypothetical imperative which expresses the practical necessity of an action as means to the advancement of happiness is ,assertorial4 ,we are not to present it as necessary for an uncertain and merely possible purpose1 but for a purpose which we may presuppose with certainty and a priori in every man1 because it belongs to his being4 ,now skill in the choice of means to his own greatest well- being may be called prudence ,the word prudence is taken in two senses2 in the one it may bear the name of knowledge of the world1 in the other that of private prudence4 ,the former is a man's ability to influence others so as to use them for his own purposes4 ,the latter is the sagacity to combine all these purposes for his own lasting benefit4 ,this latter is properly that to which the value even of the former is reduced1 and when a man is prudent in the former sense1 but not in the latter1 we might better say of him that he is clever and cunning1 but1 on the whole1 imprudent4 ,compare on the difference between klug and gescheu here alluded to1 ,anthropologie1 #de1 ed4 ,schubert1 p4 no4 in the narrowest sense4 ,and thus the imperative which refers to the choice of means to one's own happiness1 i4 e41 the precept of prudence1 is still always hypothetical2 the action is not commanded absolutely1 but only as means to another purpose4 ,finally1 there is an imperative which commands a certain conduct immediately1 without having as its condition any other purpose to be attained by it4 ,this imperative is ,categorical4 ,it concerns not the matter of the action1 or its intended result1 but its form and the principle of which it is itself a result1 and what is essentially good in it consists in the mental disposition1 let the consequence be what it may4 ,this imperative may be called that of ,morality4 ,there is a marked distinction also between the volitions on these three sorts of principles in the ,,dissimilarity of the obligation of the will4 ,in order to mark this difference more clearly1 ,i think they would be most suitably named in their order if we said they are either ,,rules of skill1 or ,,counsels of prudence1 or ,,commands 7,,laws7 of morality4 ,for it is ,,law only that involves the conception of an ,,unconditional and objective necessity1 which is consequently universally valid2 and commands are laws which must be obeyed1 that is1 must be followed1 even in opposition to inclination4 ,,counsels1 indeed1 involve necessity1 but one which can only hold under a contingent subjective condition1 viz4 they depend on whether this or that man reckons this or that as part of his happiness2 the categorical imperative1 on the contrary1 is not limited by any condition1 and as being absolutely1 although practically1 necessary1 may be quite properly called a command4 ,we might also call the first kind of imperatives ,,technical 7belonging to art71 the second ,,pragmatic 7to welfare71 ,it seems to me that the proper signification of the word pragmatic may be most accurately defined in this way4 ,for sanctions see ,cr4 of ,pract4 ,reas41 p4 #bga are called pragmatic which flow properly1 not from the law of the states as necessary enactments1 but from precaution for the general welfare4 ,a history is composed pragmatically when it teaches prudence1 i4 e4 instructs the world how it can provide for its interests better1 or at least as well as the men of former time42 the third ,,moral 7belonging to free conduct generally1 that is1 to morals74 ,now arises the question1 how are all these imperatives possible8 ,this question does not seek to know how we can conceive the accomplishment of the action which the imperative ordains1 but merely how we can conceive the obligation of the will which the imperative expresses4 ,no special explanation is needed to show how an imperative of skill is possible4 ,whoever wills the end1 wills also 7so far as reason decides his conduct7 the means in his power which are indispensably necessary thereto4 ,this proposition is1 as regards the volition1 analytical2 for1 in willing an object as my effect1 there is already thought the causality of myself as an acting cause1 that is to say1 the use of the means2 and the imperative educes from the conception of volition of an end the conception of actions necessary to this end4 ,synthetical propositions must no doubt be employed in denning the means to a proposed end2 but they do not concern the principle1 the act of the will1 but the object and its realization4 ,ex4 gr41 that in order to bisect a line on an unerring principle ,i must draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs2 this no doubt is taught by mathematics only in synthetical propositions2 but if ,i know that it is only by this process that the intended operation can be performed1 then to say that if ,i fully will the operation1 ,i also will the action required for it1 is an analytical proposition2 for it is one and the same thing to conceive something as an effect which ,i can produce in a certain way1 and to conceive myself as acting in this way4 ,if it were only equally easy to give a definite conception of happiness1 the imperatives of prudence would correspond exactly with those of skill1 and would likewise be analytical4 ,for in this case as in that1 it could be said1 whoever wills the end1 wills also 7according to the dictate of reason necessarily7 the indispensable means thereto which are in his power4 ,but1 unfortunately1 the notion of happiness is so indefinite that although every man wishes to attain it1 yet he never can say definitely and consistently what it is that he really wishes and wills4 ,the reason of this is that all the elements which belong to the notion of happiness are altogether empirical1 i4 e4 they must be borrowed from experience1 and nevertheless the idea of happiness requires an absolute whole1 a maximum of welfare in my present and all future circumstances4 ,now it is impossible that the most clear-sighted1 and at the same time most powerful being 7supposed finite71 should frame to himself a definite conception of what he really wills in this4 ,does he will riches1 how much anxiety1 envy1 and snares might he not thereby draw upon his shoulders8 ,does he will knowledge and discernment1 perhaps it might prove to be only an eye so much the sharper to show him so much the more fearfully the evils that are now concealed from him1 and that cannot be avoided1 or to impose more wants on his desires1 which already give him concern enough4 ,would he have long life1 who guarantees to him that it would not be a long misery8 would he at least have health8 how often has uneasiness of the body restrained from excesses into which perfect health would have allowed one to fall8 and so on4 ,in short he is unable1 on any principle1 to determine with certainty what would make him truly happy2 because to do so he would need to be omniscient4 ,we cannot therefore act on any definite principles to secure happiness1 but only on empirical counsels1 ex4 gr4 of regimen1 frugality1 courtesy1 reserve1 c41 which experience teaches do1 on the average1 most promote well- being4 ,hence it follows that the imperatives of prudence do not1 strictly speaking1 command at all1 that is1 they cannot present actions objectively as practically necessary2 that they are rather to be regarded as counsels 7consilia7 than precepts 7praecepta7 of reason1 that the problem to determine certainly and universally what action would promote the happiness of a rational being is completely insoluble1 and consequently no imperative respecting it is possible which should1 in the strict sense1 command to do what makes happy2 because happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination1 resting solely on empirical grounds1 and it is vain to expect that these should define an action by which one could attain the totality of a series of consequences which is really endless4 ,this imperative of prudence would however be an analytical proposition if we assume that the means to happiness could be certainly assigned2 for it is distinguished from the imperative of skill only by this1 that in the latter the end is merely possible1 in the former it is given2 as however both only ordain the means to that which we suppose to be willed as an end1 it follows that the imperative which ordains the willing of the means to him who wills the end is in both cases analytical4 ,thus there is no difficulty in regard to the possibility of an imperative of this kind either4 ,on the other hand the question1 how the imperative of morality is possible1 is undoubtedly one1 the only one8 demanding a solution1 as this is not at all hypothetical1 and the objective necessity which it presents cannot rest on any hypothesis1 as is the case with the hypothetical imperatives4 ,only here we must never leave out of consideration that we cannot make out by any example1 in other words empirically1 whether there is such an imperative at all2 but it is rather to be feared that all those which seem to be categorical may yet be at bottom hypothetical4 ,for instance1 when the precept is3 ,thou shalt not promise deceitfully2 and it is assumed that the necessity of this is not a mere counsel to avoid some other evil1 so that it should mean3 thou shalt not make a lying promise1 lest if it become known thou shouldst destroy thy credit1 but that an action of this kind must be regarded as evil in itself1 so that the imperative of the prohibition is categorical2 then we cannot show with certainty in any example that the will was determined merely by the law1 without any other spring of action1 although it may appear to be so4 ,for it is always possible that fear of disgrace1 perhaps also obscure dread of other dangers1 may have a secret influence on the will4 ,who can prove by experience the non-existence of a cause when all that experience tells us is that we do not perceive it8 ,but in such a case the so-called moral imperative1 which as such appears to be categorical and unconditional1 would in reality be only a pragmatic precept1 drawing our attention to our own interests1 and merely teaching us to take these into consideration4 ,we shall therefore have to investigate a priori the possibility of a categorical imperative1 as we have not in this case the advantage of its reality being given in experience1 so that the elucidation of its possibility should be requisite only for its explanation1 not for its establishment4 ,in the mean-time it may be discerned beforehand that the categorical imperative alone has the purport of a practical law3 all the rest may indeed be called principles of the will but not laws1 since whatever is only necessary for the attainment of some arbitrary purpose may be considered as in itself contingent1 and we can at any time be free from the precept if we give up the purpose3 on the contrary1 the unconditional command leaves the will no liberty to choose the opposite2 consequently it alone carries with it that necessity which we require in a law4 ,secondly1 in the case of this categorical imperative or law of morality1 the difficulty 7of discerning its possibility7 is a very profound one4 ,it is an a priori synthetical practical proposition2 ,footnote3 ,i connect the act with the will without presupposing any condition resulting from any inclination1 but d priori1 and therefore necessarily 7though only objectively1 i4 e4 assuming the idea of a reason possessing full power over all subjective motives74 ,this is accordingly a practical proposition which does not deduce the willing of an action by mere analysis from another already presupposed 7for we have not such a perfect will71 but connects it immediately with the conception of the will of a rational being1 as something not contained in it4 and as there is so much difficulty in discerning the possibility of speculative propositions of this kind1 it may readily be supposed that the difficulty will be no less with the practical4 ,in this problem we will first inquire whether the mere conception of a categorical imperative may not perhaps supply us also with the formula of it1 containing the proposition which alone can be a categorical imperative2 for even if we know the tenor of such absolute command1 yet how it is possible will require further special and laborious study1 which we postpone to the last section4 ,when ,i conceive a hypothetical imperative in general ,i do not know beforehand what it will contain until ,i am given the condition4 ,but when ,i conceive a categorical imperative ,i know at once what it contains4 ,for as the imperative contains besides the law only the necessity that the maxims ,footnote3 ,a ,,maxim is a subjective principle of action1 and must be distinguished from the objective principle1 namely1 practical law4 ,the former contains the practical rule set by reason according to the conditions of the subject 7often its ignorance or its inclinations71 so that it is the principle on which the subject acts2 but the law is the objective principle valid for every rational being1 and is the principle on which it ought to act that is an imperative4 shall conform to this law1 while the law contains no conditions restricting it1 there remains nothing but the general statement that the maxim of the action should conform to a universal law1 and it is this conformity alone that the imperative properly represents as necessary4 ,footnote3 ,i have no doubt that den in the original before ,imperativ is a misprint for der1 and have translated accordingly4 ,mr4 ,semple has done the same4 ,the editions that ,i have seen agree in reading den1 and ,m4 ,barni so translates4 ,with this reading1 it is the conformity that presents the imperative as necessary4 ,there is therefore but one categorical imperative1 namely this3 ,act only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it should become a universal law4 ,now if all imperatives of duty can be deduced from this one imperative as from their principle1 then1 although it should remain undecided whether what is called duty is not merely a vain notion1 yet at least we shall be able to show what we understand by it and what this notion means4 ,since the universality of the law according to which effects are produced constiutes what is properly called nature in the most general sense 7as to form71 that is the existence of things so far as it is determined by general laws1 the imperative of duty may be expressed thus3 ,act as if the maxim of thy action were to become by thy will a ,universal ,law of ,nature4 ,we will now enumerate a few duties1 adopting the usual division of them into duties to ourselves and to others1 and into perfect and imperfect duties4 ,footnote3 ,it must be noted here that ,i reserve the division of duties for a future metaphysic of morals2 so that ,i give it here only as an arbitrary one 7in order to arrange my examples74 ,for the rest1 ,i understand by a perfect duty one that admits no exception in favour of inclination1 and then ,i have not merely external1 but also internal perfect duties4 ,this is contrary to the use of the word adopted in the schools2 but ,i do not intend to justify it here1 as it is all one for my purpose whether it is admitted or not4 ,perfect duties are usually understood to be those which can be enforced by external law2 imperfect1 those which cannot be enforced4 ,they are also called respectively determinate and indeterminate1 officia juris and officia virtutis4 ,i4 ,a man reduced to despair by a series of misfortunes feels wearied of life1 but is still so far in possession of his reason that he can ask himself whether it would not be contrary to his duty to himself to take his own life4 ,now he inquires whether the maxim of his action could become a universal law of nature4 ,his maxim is3 ,from self-love ,i adopt it as a principle to shorten my life when its longer duration is likely to bring more evil than satisfaction4 ,it is asked then simply whether this principle founded on self-love can become a universal law of nature4 ,now we see at once that a system of nature of which it should be a law to destroy life by means of the very feeling whose special nature it is to impel to the improvement of life would contradict itself1 and therefore could not exist as a system of nature2 hence that maxim cannot possibly exist as a universal law of nature1 and consequently would be wholly inconsistent with the supreme principle of all duty4 ,footnote3 ,on suicide cf4 further ,metaphysik der ,sitten1 p4 #bgd4 #b4 ,another finds himself forced by necessity to borrow money4 ,he knows that he will not be able to repay it1 but sees also that nothing will be lent to him1 unless he promises stoutly to repay it in a definite time4 ,he desires to make this promise1 but he has still so much conscience as to ask himself3 ,is it not unlawful and inconsistent with duty to get out of a difficulty in this way8 ,suppose1 however1 that he resolves to do so1 then the maxim of his action would be expressed thus3 ,when ,i think myself in want of money1 ,i will borrow money and promise to repay it1 although ,i know that ,i never can do so4 ,now this principle of self-love or of one's own advantage may perhaps be consistent with my whole future welfare2 but the question now is1 ,is it right8 ,i change then the suggestion of self-love into a universal law1 and state the question thus3 ,how would it be if my maxim were a universal law8 ,then ,i see at once that it could never hold as a universal law of nature1 but would necessarily contradict itself4 ,for supposing it to be a universal law that everyone when he thinks himself in a difficulty should be able to promise whatever he pleases1 with the purpose of not keeping his promise1 the promise itself would become impossible1 as well as the end that one might have in view in it1 since no one would consider that anything was promised to him1 but would ridicule all such statements as vain pretences4 #c4 ,a third finds in himself a talent which with the help of some culture might make him a useful man in many respects4 ,but he finds himself in comfortable circumstances1 and prefers to indulge in pleasure rather than to take pains in enlarging and improving his happy natural capacities4 ,he asks1 however1 whether his maxim of neglect of his natural gifts1 besides agreeing with his inclination to indulgence1 agrees also with what is called duty4 ,he sees then that a system of nature could indeed subsist with such a universal law although men 7like the ,south ,sea islanders7 should let their talents rust1 and resolve to devote their lives merely to idleness1 amusement1 and propagation of their species--in a word1 to enjoyment2 but he cannot possibly ,,will that this should be a universal law of nature1 or be implanted in us as such by a natural instinct4 ,for1 as a rational being1 he necessarily wills that his faculties be developed1 since they serve him1 and have been given him1 for all sorts of possible purposes4 #d4 ,a fourth1 who is in prosperity1 while he sees that others have to contend with great wretchedness and that he could help them1 thinks3 ,what concern is it of mine8 ,let everyone be as happy as heaven pleases1 or as he can make himself2 ,i will take nothing from him nor even envy him1 only ,i do not wish to contribute anything to his welfare or to his assistance in distress6 ,now no doubt if such a mode of thinking were a universal law1 the human race might very well subsist1 and doubtless even better than in a state in which everyone talks of sympathy and good-will1 or even takes care occasionally to put it into practice1 but on the other side1 also cheats when he can1 betrays the rights of men1 or otherwise violates them4 ,but although it is possible that a universal law of nature might exist in accordance with that maxim1 it is impossible to ,,will that such a principle should have the universal validity of a law of nature4 ,for a will which resolved this would contradict itself1 inasmuch as many cases might occur in which one would have need of the love and sympathy of others1 and in which1 by such a law of nature1 sprung from his own will1 he would deprive himself of all hope of the aid he desires4 ,these are a few of the many actual duties1 or at least what we regard as such1 which obviously fall into two classes on the one principle that we have laid down4 ,we must be ,,able ,,to ,,will that a maxim of our action should be a universal law4 ,this is the canon of the moral appreciation of the action generally4 ,some actions are of such a character that their maxim cannot without contradiction be even ,,conceived as a universal law of nature1 far from it being possible that we should ,,will that it ,,should be so4 ,in others this intrinsic impossibility is not found1 but still it is impossible to ,,will ,,that their maxim should be raised to the universality of a law of nature1 since such a will would contradict itself4 ,it is easily seen that the former violate strict or rigorous 7inflexible7 duty2 the latter only laxer 7meritorious7 duty4 ,thus it has been completely shown by these examples how all duties depend as regards the nature of the obligation 7not the object of the action7 on the same principle4 ,if now we attend to ourselves on occasion of any transgression of duty1 we shall find that we in fact do not will that our maxim should be a universal law1 for that is impossible for us2 on the contrary we will that the opposite should remain a universal law1 only we assume the liberty of making an ,,exception in our own favour or 7just for this time only7 in favour of our inclination4 ,consequently if we considered all cases from one and the same point of view1 namely1 that of reason1 we should find a contradiction in our own will1 namely1 that a certain principle should be objectively necessary as a universal law1 and yet subjectively should not be universal1 but admit of exceptions4 ,as however we at one moment regard our action from the point of view of a will wholly conformed to reason1 and then again look at the same action from the point of view of a will affected by inclination1 there is not really any contradiction1 but an antagonism of inclination to the precept of reason1 whereby the universality of the principle is changed into a mere generality1 so that the practical principle of reason shall meet the maxim half way4 ,now1 although this cannot be justified in our own impartial judgment1 yet it proves that we do really recognise the validity of the categorical imperative and 7with all respect for it7 only allow ourselves a few exceptions1 which we think unimportant and forced from us4 ,we have thus established at least this much1 that if duty is a conception which is to have any import and real legislative authority for our actions1 it can only be expressed in categorical1 and not at all in hypothetical imperatives4 ,we have also1 which is of great importance1 exhibited clearly and definitely for every practical application the content of the categorical imperative1 which must contain the principle of all duty if there is such a thing at all4 ,we have not yet1 however1 advanced so far as to prove a priori that there actually is such an imperative1 that there is a practical law which commands absolutely of itself1 and without any other impulse1 and that the following of this law is duty4 ,with the view of attaining to this it is of extreme importance to remember that we must not allow ourselves to think of deducing the reality of this principle from the particular attributes of human nature4 ,for duty is to be a practical1 unconditional necessity of action2 it must therefore hold for all rational beings 7to whom an imperative can apply at all7 and for this reason only be also a law for all human wills4 ,on the contrary1 whatever is deduced from the particular natural characteristics of humanity1 from certain feelings and propensions1 ,footnote3 ,kant distinguishes ,hang 7propensio7 from ,neigung 7inclinatio7 as follows3--,hang is a predisposition to the desire of some enjoyment2 in other words1 it is the subjective possibility of excitement of a certain desire1 which precedes the conception of its object4 ,when the enjoyment has been experienced1 it produces a ,neigung 7inclination7 to it1 which accordingly is defined habitual sensible desire4--,anthropologie1 #gb1 #gi2 ,religion1 p4 #ca4 nay even1 if possible1 from any particular tendency proper to human reason1 and which need not necessarily hold for the will of every rational being2 this may indeed supply us with a maxim1 but not with a law2 with a subjective principle on which we may have a propension and inclination to act1 but not with an objective principle on which we should be enjoined to act1 even though all our propensions1 inclinations1 and natural dispositions were opposed to it4 ,in fact the sublimity and intrinsic dignity of the command in duty are so much the more evident1 the less the subjective impulses favour it and the more they oppose it1 without being able in the slightest degree to weaken the obligation of the law or to distinguish its validity4 ,here then we see philosophy brought to a critical position1 since it has to be firmly fixed1 notwithstanding that it has nothing to support it either in heaven or earth4 ,here it must show its purity as absolute dictator of its own laws1 not the herald of those which are whispered to it by an implanted sense or who knows what tutelary nature4 ,although these may be better than nothing1 yet they can never afford principles dictated by reason1 which must have their source wholly a priori and thence their commanding authority1 expecting everything from the supremacy of the law and the due respect for it1 nothing from inclination1 or else condemning the man to self-contempt and inward abhorrence4 ,thus every empirical element is not only quite incapable of being an aid to the principle of morality1 but is even highly prejudicial to the purity of morals1 for the proper and inestimable worth of an absolutely good will consists just in this1 that the principle of action is free1 from all influence of contingent grounds1 which alone experience can furnish4 ,we cannot too much or too often repeat our warning against this lax and even mean habit of thought which seeks for its principle amongst empirical motives and laws2 for human reason in its weariness is glad to rest on this pillow1 and in a dream of sweet illusions 7in which1 instead of ,juno1 it embraces a cloud7 it substitutes for morality a bastard patched up from limbs of various derivation1 which looks like anything one chooses to see in it2 only not like virtue to one who has once beheld her in her true form4 ,footnote3 ,to behold virtue in her proper form is nothing else but to contemplate morality stripped of all admixture of sensible things and of every spurious ornament of reward or self- love4 ,how much she then eclipses everything else that appears charming to the affections1 every one may readily perceive with the least exertion of his reason1 if it be not wholly spoiled for abstraction4 ,the question then is this3 ,is it a necessary law for all rational beings that they should always judge of their actions by maxims of which they can themselves will that they should serve as universal laws8 ,if it is so1 then it must be connected 7altogether a priori7 with the very conception of the will of a rational being generally4 ,but in order to discover this connexion we must1 however reluctantly1 take a step into metaphysic1 although into a domain of it which is distinct from speculative philosophy1 namely1 the metaphysic of morals4 ,in a practical philosophy1 where it is not the reasons of what happens that we have to ascertain1 but the laws of what ought to happen1 even although it never does1 i4 e41 objective practical laws1 there it is not necessary to inquire into the reasons why anything pleases or displeases1 how the pleasure of mere sensation differs from taste1 and whether the latter is distinct from a general satisfaction of reason2 on what the feeling of pleasure or pain rests1 and how from it desires and inclinations arise1 and from these again maxims by the co-operation of reason3 for all this belongs to an empirical psychology1 which would constitute the second part of physics1 if we regard physics as the philosophy of nature1 so far as it is based on empirical laws4 ,but here we are concerned with objective practical laws1 and consequently with the relation of the will to itself so far as it is determined by reason alone1 in which case whatever has reference to anything empirical is necessarily excluded2 since if reason of itself alone determines the conduct 7and it is the possibility of this that we are now investigating71 it must necessarily do so a priori4 ,the will is conceived as a faculty of determining oneself to action in accordance with the conception of certain laws4 ,and such a faculty can be found only in rational beings4 ,now that which serves the will as the objective ground of its self-determination is the end1 and if this is assigned by reason alone1 it must hold for all rational beings4 ,on the other hand1 that which merely contains the ground of possibility of the action of which the effect is the end1 this is called the means4 ,the subjective ground of the desire is the spring1 the objective ground of the volition is the motive2 hence the distinction between subjective ends which rest on springs and objective ends which depend on motives valid for every rational being4 ,practical principles are formal when they abstract from all subjective ends1 they are material when they assume these1 and therefore particular springs of action4 ,the ends which a rational being proposes to himself at pleasure as effects of his actions 7material ends7 are all only relative1 for it is only their relation to the particular desires of the subject that gives them their worth1 which therefore cannot furnish principles universal and necessary for all rational beings and for every volition1 that is to say practical laws4 ,hence all these relative ends can give rise only to hypothetical imperatives4 ,supposing1 however1 that there were something whose existence has in itself an absolute worth1 something which1 being an end in itself1 could be a source of definite laws1 then in this and this alone would ,he the source of a possible categorical imperative1 i4 e41 a practical law4 ,now ,i say3 man and generally any rational being exists as an end in himself1 not merely as a means to be arbitrarily used by this or that will1 but in all his actions1 whether they concern himself or other rational beings1 must be always regarded at the same time as an end4 ,all objects of the inclinations have only a conditional worth1 for if the inclinations and the wants founded on them did not exist1 then their object would be without value4 ,but the inclinations themselves being sources of want1 are so far from having an absolute worth for which they should be desired1 that on the contrary it must be the universal wish of every rational being to be wholly free from them4 ,thus the worth of any object which is to be acquired by our action is always conditional4 ,beings whose existence depends not on our will but on nature's1 have nevertheless1 if they are irrational beings1 only a relative value as means1 and are therefore called things2 rational beings1 on the contrary1 are called persons1 because their very nature points them out as ends in themselves1 that is as something which must not be used merely as means1 and so far therefore restricts freedom of action 7and is an object of respect74 ,these1 therefore1 are not merely subjective ends whose existence has a worth for us as an effect of our action but objective ends1 that is things whose existence is an end in itself3 an end moreover for which no other can be substituted1 which they should subserve merely as means1 for otherwise nothing whatever would possess absolute worth2 but if all worth were conditioned and therefore contingent1 then there would be no supreme practical principle of reason whatever4 ,if then there is a supreme practical principle or1 in respect of the human will1 a categorical imperative1 it must be one which1 being drawn from the conception of that which is necessarily an end for every one because it is an end in itself1 constitutes an objective principle of will1 and can therefore serve as a universal practical law4 ,the foundation of this principle is3 rational nature exists as an end in itself4 ,man necessarily conceives his own existence as being so2 so far then this is a subjective principle of human actions4 ,but every other rational being regards its existence similarly1 just on the same rational principle that holds for me3 ,footnote3 ,this proposition is here stated as a postulate4 ,the grounds of it will be found in the concluding section4 so that it is at the same time an objective principle1 from which as a supreme practical law all laws of the will must be capable of being deduced4 ,accordingly the practical imperative will be as follows3 ,so act as to treat humanity1 whether in thine own person or in that of any other1 in every case as an end withal1 never as means only4 ,we will now inquire whether this can be practically carried out4 ,to abide by the previous examples3 ,firstly1 under the head of necessary duty to oneself3 ,he who contemplates suicide should ask himself whether his action can be consistent with the idea of humanity as an end in itself4 ,if he destroys himself in order to escape from painful circumstances1 he uses a person merely as a mean to maintain a tolerable condition up to the end of life4 ,but a man is not a thing1 that is to say1 something which can be used merely as means1 but must in all his actions be always considered as an end in himself4 ,i cannot1 therefore1 dispose in any way of a man in my own person so as to mutilate him1 to damage or kill him4 7,it belongs to ethics proper to define this principle more precisely so as to avoid all misunderstanding1 e4 g41 as to the amputation of the limbs in order to preserve myself2 as to exposing my life to danger with a view to preserve it1 c4 ,this question is therefore omitted here47 ,secondly1 as regards necessary duties1 or those of strict obligation1 towards others2 he who is thinking of making a lying promise to others will see at once that he would be using another man merely as a mean1 without the latter containing at the same time the end in himself4 ,for he whom ,i propose by such a promise to use for my own purposes cannot possibly assent to my mode of acting towards him1 and therefore cannot himself contain the end of this action4 ,this violation of the principle of humanity in other men is more obvious if we take in examples of attacks on the freedom and property of others4 ,for then it is clear that he who transgresses the rights of men1 intends to use the person of others merely as means1 without considering that as rational beings they ought always to be esteemed also as ends1 that is1 as beings who must be capable of containing in themselves the end of the very same action4 ,footnote3 ,let it not be thought that the common3 quod tibi non vis fieri1 c41 could serve here as the rule or principle4 ,for it is only a deduction from the former1 though with several limitations2 it cannot be a universal law1 for it does not contain the principle of duties to oneself1 nor of the duties of benevolence to others 7for many a one would gladly consent that others should not benefit him1 provided only that he might be excused from showing benevolence to them71 nor finally that of duties of strict obligation to one another1 for on this principle the criminal might argue against the judge who punishes him1 and so on4 ,thirdly1 as regards contingent 7meritorious7 duties to oneself2 it is not enough that the action does not violate humanity in our own person as an end in itself1 it must also harmonise with it4 ,now there are in humanity capacities of greater perfection which belong to the end that nature has in view in regard to humanity in ourselves as the subject3 to neglect these might perhaps be consistent with the maintenance of humanity as an end in itself1 but not with the advancement of this end4 ,fourthly1 as regards meritorious duties towards others3 the natural end which all men have in their own happiness4 ,now humanity might indeed subsist1 although no one should contribute anything to the happiness of others1 provided he did not intentionally withdraw anything from it2 but after all1 this would only harmonise negatively not positively with humanity as an end in itself1 if everyone does not also endeavor1 as far as in him lies1 to forward the ends of others4 ,for the ends of any subject which is an end in himself1 ought as far as possible to be my ends also1 if that conception is to have its full effect with me4 ,this principle1 that humanity and generally every rational nature is an end in itself 7which is the supreme limiting condition of every man's freedom of action71 is not borrowed from experience1 firstly1 because it is universal1 applying as it does to all rational beings whatever1 and experience is not capable of determining anything about them2 secondly1 because it does not present humanity as an end to men 7subjectively71 that is as an object which men do of themselves actually adopt as an end2 but as an objective end1 which must as a law constitute the supreme limiting condition of all our subjective ends1 let them be what we will2 it must therefore spring from pure1 reason4 ,in fact the objective principle of all practical legislation lies 7according to the first principle7 in the rule and its form of universality which makes it capable of being a law 7say1 e4 g41 a law of nature72 but the subjective principle is in the end2 now by the second principle the subject of all ends is each rational being1 inasmuch as it is an end in itself4 ,hence follows the third practical principle of the will1 which is the ultimate condition of its harmony with the universal practical reason1 viz43 the idea of the will of every rational being as a universally legislative will4 ,on this principle all maxims are rejected which are inconsistent with the will being itself universal legislator4 ,thus the will is not subject simply to the law1 but so subject that it must be regarded as itself giving the law1 and on this ground only1 subject to the law 7of which it can regard itself as the author74 ,in the previous imperatives1 namely1 that based on the conception of the conformity of actions to general laws1 as in a physical system of nature1 and that based on the universal prerogative of rational beings as ends in themselves--these imperatives just because they were conceived as categorical1 excluded from any share in their authority all admixture of any interest as a spring of action2 they were however only assumed to be categorical1 because such an assumption was necessary to explain the conception of duty4 ,but we could not prove independently that there are practical propositions which command categorically1 nor can it be proved in this section2 one thing however could be done1 namely1 to indicate in the imperative itself by some determinate expression1 that in the case of volition from duty all interest is renounced1 which is the specific criterion of categorical as distinguished from hypothetical imperatives4 ,this is done in the present 7third7 formula of the principle1 namely1 in the idea of the will of every rational being as a universally legislating will4 ,for although a will which is subject to laws may be attached to this law by means of an interest1 yet a will which is itself a supreme lawgiver so far as it is such cannot possibly depend on any interest1 since a will so dependent would itself still need another law restricting the interest of its self-love by the condition that it should be valid as universal law4 ,thus the principle that every human will is a will which in all its maxims gives universal laws ,footnote3 ,i may be excused from adducing examples to elucidate this principle1 as those which have already been used to elucidate the categorical imperative and its formula would all serve for the like purpose here4 provided it be otherwise justified1 would be very well adapted to be the categorical imperative1 in this respect1 namely1 that just because of the idea of universal legislation it is not based on any interest1 and therefore it alone among all possible imperatives can be unconditional4 ,or still better1 converting the proposition1 if there is a categorical imperative 7i4e4 a law for the will of every rational being71 it can only command that everything be done from maxims of one's will regarded as a will which could at the same time will that it should itself give universal laws1 for in that case only the practical principle and the imperative which it obeys are unconditional1 since they cannot be based on any interest4 ,looking back now on all previous attempts to discover the principle of morality1 we need not wonder why they all fail4 ,it was seen that man was bound to laws by duty1 but it was not observed that the laws to which he is subject are only those of his own giving1 though at the same time they are universal1 and that he is only bound to act in conformity with his own will2 a will1 however1 which is designed by nature to give universal laws4 ,for when one has conceived man only as subject to a law 7no matter what71 then this law required some interest1 either by way of attraction or constraint1 since it did not originate as a law from his own will1 but this will was according to a law obliged by something else to act in a certain manner4 ,now by this necessary consequence all the labour spent in finding a supreme principle of duty was irrevocably lost4 ,for men never elicited duty1 but only a necessity of acting from a certain interest4 ,whether this interest was private or otherwise1 in any case the imperative must be conditional1 and could not by any means be capable of being a moral command4 ,i will therefore call this the principle of ,autonomy of the will1 in contrast with every other which ,i accordingly reckon as ,heteronomy8 ,footnote3 ,cp4 ,critical ,examination of ,practical ,reason1 p4 #ahd4 ,the conception of every rational being as one which must consider itself as giving in all the maxims of its will universal laws1 so as to judge itself and its actions from this point of view--this conception leads to another which depends on it and is very fruitful1 namely1 that of a kingdom of ends4 ,by a kingdom ,i understand the union of different rational beings in a system by common laws4 ,now since it is by laws that ends are determined as regards their universal validity1 hence1 if we abstract from the personal differences of rational beings1 and likewise from all the content of their private ends1 we shall be able to conceive all ends combined in a systematic whole 7including both rational beings as ends in themselves1 and also the special ends which each may propose to himself71 that is to say1 we can conceive a kingdom of ends1 which on the preceding principles is possible4 ,for all rational beings come under the law that each of them must treat itself and all others never merely as means1 but in every case at the same time as ends in themselves4 ,hence results a systematic union of rational beings by common objective laws1 i4e4 a kingdom which may be called a kingdom of ends1 since what these laws have in view is just the relation of these beings to one another as ends and means4 ,it is certainly only an ideal4 ,a rational being belongs as a member to the kingdom of ends when1 although giving universal laws in it1 he is also himself subject to these laws4 ,he belongs to it as sovereign when1 while giving laws1 he is not subject to the will of any other4 ,a rational being must always regard himself as giving laws either as member or as sovereign in a kingdom of ends which is rendered possible by the freedom of will4 ,he cannot1 however1 maintain the latter position merely by the maxims of his will1 but only in case he is a completely independent being without wants and with unrestricted power adequate to his will4 ,morality consists then in the reference of all action to the legislation which alone can render a kingdom of ends possible4 ,this legislation must be capable of existing in every rational being1 and of emanating from his will1 so that the principle of this will is1 never to act on any maxim which could not without contradiction be also a universal law1 and accordingly always so to act that the will could at the same time regard itself as giving in its maxims universal laws4 ,if now the maxims of rational beings are not by their own nature coincident with this objective principle1 then the necessity of acting on it is called practical necessitation1 i4 e41 duty4 ,duty does not apply to the sovereign in the kingdom of ends1 but it does to every member of it and to all in the same degree4 ,the practical necessity of acting on this principle1 i4 e41 duty1 does not rest at all on feelings1 impulses1 or inclinations1 but solely on the relation of rational beings to one another1 a relation in which the will of a rational being must always be regarded as legislative1 since otherwise it could not be conceived as an end in itself4 ,reason then refers every maxim of the will1 regarding it as legislating universally1 to every other will and also to every action towards oneself2 and this not on account of any other practical motive or any future advantage1 but from the idea of the dignity of a rational being1 obeying no law but that which he himself also gives4 ,in the kingdom of ends everything has either ,value or ,dignity4 ,whatever has a value can be replaced by something else which is equivalent2 whatever1 on the other hand1 is above all value1 and therefore admits of no equivalent1 has a dignity4 ,whatever has reference to the general inclinations and wants of mankind has a market value2 whatever1 without presupposing a want1 corresponds to a certain taste1 that is to a satisfaction in the mere purposeless play of our faculties1 has a fancy value2 but that which constitutes the condition under which alone anything can be an end in itself1 this has not merely a relative worth1 i4 e41 value1 but an intrinsic worth1 that is dignity4 ,now morality is the condition under which alone a rational being can be an end in himself1 since by this alone it is possible that he should be a legislating member in the kingdom of ends4 ,thus morality1 and humanity as capable of it1 is that which alone has dignity4 ,skill and diligence in labour have a market value2 wit1 lively imagination1 and humour1 have fancy value2 on the other hand1 fidelity to promises1 benevolence from principle 7not from instinct71 have an intrinsic worth4 ,neither nature nor art contains anything which in default of these it could put in their place1 for their worth consists not in the effects which spring from them1 not in the use and advantage which they secure1 but in the disposition of mind1 that is1 the maxims of the will which are ready to manifest themselves in such actions1 even though they should not have the desired effect4 ,these actions also need no recommendation from any subjective taste or sentiment1 that they may be looked on with immediate favour and satisfaction3 they need no immediate propension or feeling for them2 they exhibit the will that performs them as an object of an immediate respect1 and nothing but reason is required to ,,impose them on the will2 not to ,,flatter it into them1 which1 in the case of duties1 would be a contradiction4 ,this estimation therefore shows that the worth of such a disposition is dignity1 and places it infinitely above all value1 with which it cannot for a moment be brought into comparison or competition without as it were violating its sanctity4 ,what then is it which justifies virtue or the morally good disposition1 in making such lofty claims8 ,it is nothing less than the privilege it secures to the rational being of participating in the giving of universal laws1 by which it qualifies him to be a member of a possible kingdom of ends1 a privilege to which he was already destined by his own nature as being an end in himself1 and on that account legislating in the kingdom of ends2 free as regards all laws of physical nature1 and obeying those only which he himself gives1 and by which his maxims can belong to a system of universal law1 to which at the same time he submits himself4 ,for nothing has any worth except what the law assigns it4 ,now the legislation itself which assigns the worth of everything1 must for that very reason possess dignity1 that is an unconditional incomparable worth1 and the word ,,respect alone supplies a becoming expression for the esteem which a rational being must have for it4 ,,autonomy then is the basis of the dignity of human and of every rational nature4 ,the three modes of presenting the principle of morality that have been adduced are at bottom only so many formulae of the very same law1 and each of itself involves the other two4 ,there is1 however1 a difference in them1 but it is rather subjectively than objectively practical1 intended namely to bring an idea of the reason nearer to intuition 7by means of a certain analogy71 and thereby nearer to feeling4 ,all maxims1 in fact1 have-- #a4 ,a ,,form1 consisting in universality2 and in this view the formula of the moral imperative is expressed thus1 that the maxims must be so chosen as if they were to serve as universal laws of nature4 #b4 ,a ,,matter ,footnote3 ,the reading ,maxima1 which is that both of ,rosenkranz and ,hartenstein1 is obviously an error for ,materie4 namely1 an end1 and here the formula says that the rational being1 as it is an end by its own nature and therefore an end in itself1 must in every maxim serve as the condition limiting all merely relative and arbitrary ends4 #c4 ,a ,,complete ,,characterisation of all maxims by means of that formula1 namely1 that all maxims ought by their own legislation to harmonise with a possible kingdom of ends as with a kingdom of nature4 ,footnote3 ,teleology considers nature as a kingdom of ends2 ,ethics regards a possible kingdom of ends as a kingdom of nature4 ,in the first case1 the kingdom of ends is a theoretical idea1 adopted to explain what actually is4 ,in the latter it is a practical idea1 adopted to bring about that which is not yet1 but which can be realised by our conduct1 namely1 if it conforms to this idea4 ,there is a progress here in the order of the categories of ,,unity of the form of the will 7its universality71 ,,plurality of the matter 7the objects1 i4 e4 the ends71 and ,,totality of the system of these4 ,in forming our moral ,,judgment of actions it is better to proceed always on the strict method1 and start from the general formula of the categorical imperative3 ,,act ,,according ,,to ,a ,,maxim ,,which ,,can ,,at ,,the ,,same ,,time ,,make ,,itself ,a ,,universal ,,law4 ,if1 however1 we wish to gain an ,,entrance for the moral law1 it is very useful to bring one and the same action under the three specified conceptions1 and thereby as far as possible to bring it nearer to intuition4 ,we can now end where we started at the beginning1 namely1 with the conception of a will unconditionally good4 ,,that ,,will is ,,absolutely ,,good which cannot be evil1 in other words1 whose maxim1 if made a universal law1 could never contradict itself4 ,this principle then is its supreme law3 ,act always on such a maxim as thou canst at the same time will to be a universal law2 this is the sole condition under which a will can never contradict itself2 and such an imperative is categorical4 ,since the validity of the will as a universal law for possible actions is analogous to the universal connexion of the existence of things by general laws1 which is the formal notion of nature in general1 the categorical imperative can also be expressed thus3 ,,act ,,on ,,maxims ,,which ,,can ,,at ,,the ,,same ,,time ,,have ,,for ,,their ,,object ,,themselves ,,as ,,universal ,,laws ,,of ,,nature4 ,such then is the formula of an absolutely good will4 ,rational nature is distinguished from the rest of nature by this1 that it sets before itself an end4 ,this end would be the matter of every good will4 ,but since in the idea of a will that is absolutely good without being limited by any condition 7of attaining this or that end7 we must abstract wholly from every end ,,to ,,be ,,effected 7since this would make every will only relatively good71 it follows that in this case the end must be conceived1 not as an end to be effected1 but as an ,,independently existing end4 ,consequently it is conceived only negatively1 i4e41 as that which we must never act against1 and which1 therefore1 must never be regarded merely as means1 but must in every volition be esteemed as an end likewise4 ,now this end can be nothing but the subject of all possible ends1 since this is also the subject of a possible absolutely good will2 for such a will cannot without contradiction be postponed to any other object4 ,the principle3 ,so act in regard to every rational being 7thyself and others71 that he may always have place in thy maxim as an end in himself1 is accordingly essentially identical with this other3 ,act upon a maxim which1 at the same time1 involves its own universal validity for every rational being4 ,for that in using means for every end ,i should limit my maxim by the condition of its holding good as a law for every subject1 this comes to the same thing as that the fundamental principle of all maxims of action must be that the subject of all ends1 i4 e41 the rational being himself1 be never employed merely as means1 but as the supreme condition restricting the use of all means1 that is in every case as an end likewise4 ,it follows incontestably that1 to whatever laws any rational being may be subject1 he being an end in himself must be able to regard himself as also legislating universally in respect of these same laws1 since it is just this fitness of his maxims for universal legislation that distinguishes him as an end in himself2 also it follows that this implies his dignity 7prerogative7 above all mere physical beings1 that he must always take his maxims from the point of view which regards himself1 and likewise every other rational being1 as lawgiving beings 7on which account they are called persons74 ,in this way a world of rational beings 7mundus intelligibilis7 is possible as a kingdom of ends1 and this by virtue of the legislation proper to all persons as members4 ,therefore every rational being must so act as if he were by his maxims in every case a legislating member in the universal kingdom of ends4 ,the formal principle of these maxims is3 ,so act as if thy maxim were to serve likewise as the universal law 7of all rational beings74 ,a kingdom of ends is thus only possible on the analogy of a kingdom of nature1 the former however only by maxims1 that is self-imposed rules1 the latter only by the laws of efficient causes acting under necessitation from without4 ,nevertheless1 although the system of nature is looked upon as a machine1 yet so far as it has reference to rational beings as its ends1 it is given on this account the name of a kingdom of nature4 ,now such a kingdom of ends would be actually realised by means of maxims conforming to the canon which the categorical imperative prescribes to all rational beings1 ,,if ,,they ,,were ,,universally ,,followed4 ,but although a rational being1 even if he punctually follows this maxim himself1 cannot reckon upon all others being therefore true to the same1 nor expect that the kingdom of nature and its orderly arrangements shall be in harmony with him as a fitting member1 so as to form a kingdom of ends to which he himself contributes1 that is to say1 that it shall favour his expectation of happiness1 still that law3 ,act according to the maxims of a member of a merely possible kingdom of ends legislating in it universally1 remains in its full force1 inasmuch as it commands categorically4 ,and it is just in this that the paradox lies2 that the mere dignity of a man as a rational creature1 without any other end or advantage to be attained thereby1 in other words1 respect for a mere idea1 should yet serve as an inflexible precept of the will1 and that it is precisely in this independence of the maxim on all such springs of action that its sublimity consists2 and it is this that makes every rational subject worthy to be a legislative member in the kingdom of ends3 for otherwise he would have to be conceived only as subject to the physical law of his wants4 ,and although we should suppose the kingdom of nature and the kingdom of ends to be united under one sovereign1 so that the latter kingdom thereby ceased to be a mere idea and acquired true reality1 then it would no doubt gain the accession of a strong spring1 but by no means any increase of its intrinsic worth4 ,for this sole absolute lawgiver must1 notwithstanding this1 be always conceived as estimating the worth of rational beings only by their disinterested behaviour1 as prescribed to themselves from that idea the dignity of man alone4 ,the essence of things is not altered by their external relations1 and that which abstracting from these1 alone constitutes the absolute worth of man1 is also that by which he must be judged1 whoever the judge may be1 and even by the ,supreme ,being4 ,,morality then is the relation of actions to the autonomy of the will1 that is1 to the potential universal legislation by its maxims4 ,an action that is consistent with the autonomy of the will is ,,permitted2 one that does not agree therewith is ,,forbidden4 ,a will whose maxims necessarily coincide with the laws of autonomy is a ,,holy will1 good absolutely4 ,the dependence of a will not absolutely good on the principle of autonomy 7moral necessitation7 is obligation4 ,this then cannot be applied to a holy being4 ,the objective necessity of actions from obligation is called ,,duty4 ,from what has just been said1 it is easy to see how it happens that although the conception of duty implies subjection to the law1 we yet ascribe a certain ,,dignity and sublimity to the person who fulfills all his duties4 ,there is not1 indeed1 any sublimity in him1 so far as he is subject to the moral law2 but inasmuch as in regard to that very law he is like-wise a legislator1 and on that account alone subject to it1 he has sublimity4 ,we have also shown above that neither fear nor inclination1 but simply respect for the law1 is the spring which can give actions a moral worth4 ,our own will1 so far as we suppose it to act only under the condition that its maxims are potentially universal laws1 this ideal will which is possible to us is the proper object of respect1 and the dignity of humanity consists just in this capacity of being universally legislative1 though with the condition that it is itself subject to this same legislation4 ,the ,autonomy of the ,will as the ,supreme ,principle of ,morality ,autonomy of the will is that property of it by which it is a law to itself 7independently on any property of the objects of volition74 ,the principle of autonomy then is3 ,always so to choose that the same volition shall comprehend the maxims of our choice as a universal law4 ,we cannot prove that this practical rule is an imperative1 i4e41 that the will of every rational being is necessarily bound to it as a condition1 by a mere analysis of the conceptions which occur in it1 since it is a synthetical proposition2 we must advance beyond the cognition of the objects to a critical examination of the subject1 that is of the pure practical reason1 for this synthetic proposition which commands apodictically must be capable of being cognised wholly a priori4 ,this matter1 however1 does not belong to the present section4 ,but that the principle of autonomy in question is the sole principle of morals can be readily shown by mere analysis of the conceptions of morality4 ,for by this analysis we find that its principle must be a categorical imperative1 and that what this commands is neither more nor less than this very autonomy4 ,heteronomy of the ,will as the ,source of all spurious ,principles of ,morality ,if the will seeks the law which is to determine it anywhere else than in the fitness of its maxims to be universal laws of its own dictation1 consequently if it goes out of itself and seeks this law in the character of any of its objects1 there always results ,,heteronomy4 ,the will in that case does not give itself the law1 but it is given by the object through its relation to the will4 ,this relation whether it rests on inclination or on conceptions of reason only admits of hypothetical imperatives3 ,i ought to do something ,,because ,i ,,wish ,,for ,,something ,,else4 ,on the contrary1 the moral1 and therefore categorical1 imperative says3 ,i ought to do so and so1 even though ,i should not wish for anything else4 ,ex4 gr41 the former says3 ,i ought not to lie if ,i would retain my reputation2 the latter says3 ,i ought not to lie although it should not bring me the least discredit4 ,the latter therefore must so far abstract from all objects that they shall have no ,,influence on the will1 in order that practical reason 7will7 may not be restricted to administering an interest not belonging to it1 but may simply show its own commanding authority as the supreme legislation4 ,thus1 ex4 gr41 ,i ought to endeavour to promote the happiness of others1 not as if its realization involved any concern of mine 7whether by immediate inclination or by any satisfaction indirectly gained through reason71 but simply because a maxim which excludes it cannot be comprehended as a universal law ,footnote3 ,i read allgemeines instead of allgemeinem4 in one and the same volition4 ,classification of all ,principles of ,morality which can be founded on the ,conception of ,heteronomy4 ,here as elsewhere human reason in its pure use1 so long as it was not critically examined1 has first tried all possible wrong ways before it succeeded in finding the one true way4 ,all principles which can be taken from this point of view are either ,,empirical or ,,rational4 ,the ,,former1 drawn from the principle of ,,happiness1 are built on physical or moral feelings2 the ,,latter1 drawn from the principle of ,,perfection1 are built either on the rational conception of perfection as a possible effect1 or on that of an independent perfection 7the will of ,god7 as the determining cause of our will4 ,,empirical ,,principles are wholly incapable of serving as a foundation for moral laws4 ,for the universality with which these should hold for all rational beings without distinction1 the unconditional practical necessity which is thereby imposed on them1 is lost when their foundation is taken from the ,,particular ,,constitution ,,of ,,human ,,nature1 or the accidental circumstances in which it is placed4 ,the principle of ,,private ,,happiness1 however1 is the most objectionable1 not merely because it is false1 and experience contradicts the supposition that prosperity is always proportioned to good conduct1 nor yet merely because it contributes nothing to the establishment of morality--since it is quite a different thing to make a prosperous man and a good man1 or to make one prudent and sharp- sighted for his own interests1 and to make him virtuous--but because the springs it provides for morality are such as rather undermine it and destroy its sublimity1 since they put the motives to virtue and to vice in the same class1 and only teach us to make a better calculation1 the specific difference between virtue and vice being entirely extinguished4 ,on the other hand1 as to moral feeling1 this supposed special sense ,footnote3 ,i class the principle of moral feeling under that of happiness1 because every empirical interest promises to contribute to our well-being by the agreeableness that a thing affords1 whether it be immediately and without a view to profit1 or whether profit be regarded4 ,we must likewise1 with ,hutcheson1 class the principle of sympathy with the happiness of others under his assumed moral sense4 the appeal to it is indeed superficial when those who cannot ,,think believe that ,,feeling will help them out1 even in what concerns general laws3 and besides1 feelings which naturally differ infinitely in degree cannot furnish a uniform standard of good and evil1 nor has anyone a right to form judgments for others by his own feelings3 nevertheless this moral feeling is nearer to morality and its dignity in this respect1 that it pays virtue the honour of ascribing to her ,,immediately the satisfaction and esteem we have for her1 and does not1 as it were1 tell her to her face that we are not attached to her by her beauty but by profit4 ,amongst the ,,rational principles of morality1 the ontological conception of ,,perfection1 notwithstanding its defects1 is better than the theological conception which derives morality from a ,divine absolutely perfect will4 ,the former is1 no doubt1 empty and indefinite1 and consequently useless for finding in the boundless field of possible reality the greatest amount suitable for us2 moreover1 in attempting to distinguish specifically the reality of which we are now speaking from every other1 it inevitably tends to turn in a circle1 and cannot avoid tacitly presupposing the morality which it is to explain2 it is nevertheless preferable to the theological view1 first1 because we have no intuition of the ,divine perfection1 and can only deduce it from our own conceptions1 the most important of which is that of morality1 and our explanation would thus be involved in a gross circle2 and1 in the next place1 if we avoid this1 the only notion of the ,divine will remaining to us is a conception made up of the attributes of desire of glory and dominion1 combined with the awful conceptions of might and vengeance1 and any system of morals erected on this foundation would be directly opposed to morality4 ,however1 if ,i had to choose between the notion of the moral sense and that of perfection in general 7two systems which at least do not weaken morality1 although they are totally incapable of serving as its foundation71 then ,i should decide for the latter1 because it at least withdraws the decision of the question from the sensibility and brings it to the court of pure reason2 and although even here it decides nothing1 it at all events preserves the indefinite idea 7of a will good in itself7 free from corruption1 until it shall be more precisely defined4 ,for the rest ,i think ,i may be excused here from a detailed refutation of all these doctrines2 that would only be superfluous labour1 since it is so easy1 and is probably so well seen even by those whose office requires them to decide for one of these theories 7because their hearers would not tolerate suspension of judgment74 ,but what interests us more here is to know that the prime foundation of morality laid down by all these principles is nothing but heteronomy of the will1 and for this reason they must necessarily miss their aim4 ,in every case where an object of the will has to be supposed in order that the rule may be prescribed which is to determine the will1 there the rule is simply heteronomy2 the imperative is conditional1 namely1 ,,if or ,,because one wishes for this object1 one should act so and so3 hence it can never command morally1 that is categorically4 ,whether the object determines the will by means of inclination1 as in the principle of private happiness1 or by means of reason directed to objects of our possible volition generally1 as in the principle of perfection1 in either case the will never determines itself ,,immediately by the conception of the action1 but only by the influence which the foreseen effect of the action has on the will2 ,i ,,ought ,,to ,,do ,,something1 ,,on ,,this ,,account1 ,,because ,i ,,wish ,,for ,,something ,,else2 and here there must be yet another law assumed in me as its subject1 by which ,i necessarily will this other thing1 and this law again requires an imperative to restrict this maxim4 ,for the influence which the conception of an object within the reach of our faculties can exercise on the will of the subject in consequence of its natural properties1 depends on the nature of the subject1 either the sensibility 7inclination and taste71 or the understanding and reason1 the employment of which is by the peculiar constitution of their nature attended with satisfaction4 ,it follows that the law would be1 properly speaking1 given by nature1 and as such1 it must be known and proved by experience1 and would consequently be contingent1 and therefore incapable of being an apodictic practical rule1 such as the moral rule must be4 ,not only so1 but it is ,,inevitably ,,only ,,heteronomy2 the will does not give itself the law1 but it is given by a foreign impulse by means of a particular natural constitution of the subject adapted to receive it4 ,an absolutely good will1 then1 the principle of which must be a categorical imperative1 will be indeterminate as regards all objects1 and will contain merely the ,,form ,,of ,,volition generally1 and that as autonomy1 that is to say1 the capability of the maxims of every good will to make themselves a universal law1 is itself the only law which the will of every rational being imposes on itself1 without needing to assume any spring or interest as a foundation4 ,,how ,,such ,a ,,synthetical ,,practical a priori ,,proposition ,,is ,,possible and why it is necessary1 is a problem whose solution does not lie within the bounds of the metaphysic of morals2 and we have not here affirmed its truth1 much less professed to have a proof of it in our power4 ,we simply showed by the development of the universally received notion of morality that an autonomy of the will is inevitably connected with it1 or rather is its foundation4 ,whoever then holds morality to be anything real1 and not a chimerical idea without any truth1 must likewise admit the principle of it that is here assigned4 ,this section then1 like the first1 was merely analytical4 ,now to prove that morality is no creation of the brain1 which it cannot be if the categorical imperative and with it the autonomy of the will is true1 and as an a priori principle absolutely necessary1 this supposes the ,,possibility ,,of ,a ,,synthetic ,,use ,,of ,,pure ,,practical ,,reason1 which however we cannot venture on without first giving a critical examination of this faculty of reason4 ,in the concluding section we shall give the principle outlines of this critical examination as far as is sufficient for our purpose4 ,,third ,,section ,,transition ,,from ,,the ,,metaphysic ,,of ,,morals ,,to ,,the ,,critique ,,of ,,pure ,,practical ,,reasoh ,the ,concept of ,freedom is the ,key that explains the ,autonomy of the ,will ,the ,,will is a kind of causality belonging to living beings in so far as they are rational1 and ,,freedom would be this property of such causality that it can be efficient1 independently on foreign causes ,,determining it2 just as ,,physical ,,necessity is the property that the causality of all irrational beings has of being determined to activity by the influence of foreign causes4 ,the preceding definition of freedom is ,,negative1 and therefore unfruitful for the discovery of its essence2 but it leads to a ,,positive conception which is so much the more full and fruitful ,since the conception of causality involves that of laws1 according to which1 by something that we call cause1 something else1 namely1 the effect1 must be produced laid down2 ,footnote3 7,gesetzt4-,there is in the original a play on the etymology of ,gesetz1 which does not admit of reproduction in ,english4 ,it must be confessed that without it the statement is not self-evident47 hence1 although freedom is not a property of the will depending on physical laws1 yet it is not for that reason lawless2 on the contrary it must be a causality acting according to immutable laws1 but of a peculiar kind2 otherwise a free will would be an absurdity4 ,physical necessity is a heteronomy of the efficient causes1 for every effect is possible only according to this law1 that something else determines the efficient cause to exert its causality4 ,what else then can freedom of the will be but autonomy1 that is the property of the will to be a law to itself8 ,but the proposition3 ,the will is in every action a law to itself1 only expresses the principle1 to act on no other maxim than that which can also have as an object itself as a universal law4 ,now this is precisely the formula of the categorical imperative and is the principle of morality1 so that a free will and a will subject to moral laws are one and the same4 ,on the hypothesis then of freedom of the will1 morality together with its principle follows from it by mere analysis of the conception4 ,however the latter is still a synthetic proposition2 viz41 an absolutely good will is that whose maxim can always include itself regarded as a universal law2 for this property of its maxim can never be discovered by analysing the conception of an absolutely good will4 ,now such synthetic propositions are only possible in this way3 that the two cognitions are connected together by their union with a third in which they are both to be found4 ,the ,,positive concept of freedom furnishes this third cognition1 which cannot1 as with physical causes1 be the nature of the sensible world 7in the concept of which we find conjoined the concept of something in relation as cause to ,,something ,,else as effect74 ,we cannot now at once show what this third is to which freedom points us1 and of which we have an idea a priori1 nor can we make intelligible how the concept of freedom is shown to be legitimate from principles of pure practical reason1 and with it the possibility of a categorical imperative2 but some further preparation is required4 ,freedom must be presupposed as a ,property of the ,will of all ,rational ,beings ,it is not enough to predicate freedom of our own will1 from whatever reason1 if we have not sufficient grounds for predicating the same of all rational beings4 ,for as morality serves as a law for us only because we are ,,rational ,,beings1 it must also hold for all rational beings2 and as it must be deduced simply from the property of freedom1 it must be shown that freedom also is a property of all rational beings4 ,it is not enough then to prove it from certain supposed experiences of human nature 7which indeed is quite impossible1 and it can only be shown a priori71 but we must show that it belongs to the activity of all rational beings endowed with a will4 ,now ,i say every being that cannot act except ,,under ,,the ,,idea ,,of ,,freedom is just for that reason in a practical point of view really free1 that is to say1 all laws which are inseparably connected with freedom have the same force for him as if his will had been shown to be free in itself by a proof theoretically conclusive4 ,footnote3 ,i adopt this method of assuming freedom merely ,,as ,,an ,,idea which rational beings suppose in their actions1 in order to avoid the necessity of proving it in its theoretical aspect also4 ,the former is sufficient for my purpose2 for even though the speculative proof should not be made out1 yet a being that cannot act except with the idea of freedom is bound by the same laws that would oblige a being who was actually free4 ,thus we can escape here from the onus which presses on the theory4 7,compare ,butler's treatment of the question of liberty in his ,analogy1 part ,i41 ch4 vi47 ,now ,i affirm that we must attribute to every rational being which has a will that it has also the idea of freedom and acts entirely under this idea4 ,for in such a being we conceive a reason that is practical1 that is1 has causality in reference to its objects4 ,now we cannot possibly conceive a reason consciously receiving a bias from any other quarter with respect to its judgments1 for then the subject would ascribe the determination of its judgment not to its own reason1 but to an impulse4 ,it must regard itself as the author of its principles independent on foreign influences4 ,consequently as practical reason or as the will of a rational being it must regard itself as free1 that is to say1 the will of such a being cannot be a will of its own except under the idea of freedom4 ,this idea must therefore in a practical point of view be ascribed to every rational being4 ,of the ,interest attaching to the ,ideas of ,morality ,we have finally reduced the definite conception of morality to the idea of freedom4 ,this latter1 however1 we could not prove to be actually a property of ourselves or of human nature2 only we saw that it must be presupposed if we would conceive a being as rational and conscious of its causality in respect of its actions1 i4 e41 as endowed with a will2 and so we find that on just the same grounds we must ascribe to every being endowed with reason and will this attribute of determining itself to action under the idea of its freedom4 ,now it resulted also from the presupposition of this idea that we became aware of a law that the subjective principles of action1 i4e41 maxims1 must always be so assumed that they can also hold as objective1 that is1 universal principles1 and so serve as universal laws of our own dictation4 ,but why then should ,i subject myself to this principle and that simply as a rational being1 thus also subjecting to it all other beings endowed with reason8 ,i will allow that no interest urges me to this1 for that would not give a categorical imperative1 but ,i must take an interest in it and discern how this comes to pass2 for this ,i ought is properly an ,i would1 valid for every rational being1 provided only that reason determined his actions without any hindrance4 ,but for beings that are in addition affected as we are by springs of a different kind1 namely1 sensibility1 and in whose case that is not always done which reason alone would do1 for these that necessity is expressed only as an ought1 and the subjective necessity is different from the objective4 ,it seems then as if the moral law1 that is1 the principle of autonomy of the will1 were properly speaking only presupposed in the idea of freedom1 and as if we could not prove its reality and objective necessity independently4 ,in that case we should still have gained something considerable by at least determining the true principle more exactly than had previously been done2 but as regards its validity and the practical necessity of subjecting oneself to it1 we should not have advanced a step4 ,for if we were asked why the universal validity of our maxim as a law must be the condition restricting our actions1 and on what we ground the worth which we assign to this manner of acting--a worth so great that there cannot be any higher interest2 and if we were asked further how it happens that it is by this alone a man believes he feels his own personal worth1 in comparison with which that of an agreeable or disagreeable condition is to be regarded as nothing1 to these questions we could give no satisfactory answer4 ,we find indeed sometimes that we can take an interest ,footnote3 ,interest means a spring of the will1 in so far as this spring is presented by ,reason4 ,see note1 p4 #cia4 in a personal quality which does not involve any interest of external condition1 provided this quality makes us capable of participating in the condition in case reason were to effect the allotment2 that is to say1 the mere being worthy of happiness can interest of itself even without the motive of participating in this happiness4 ,this judgment1 however1 is in fact only the effect of the importance of the moral law which we before presupposed 7when by the idea of freedom we detach ourselves from every empirical interest72 but that we ought to detach ourselves from these interests1 i4 e41 to consider ourselves as free in action and yet as subject to certain laws1 so as to find a worth simply in our own person whiph can compensate us for the loss of everything that give worth to our condition2 this we are not yet able to discern in this way1 nor do we see how it is possible so to act--in other words1 whence the moral law derives its obligation4 ,it must be freely admitted that there is a sort of circle here from which it seems impossible to escape4 ,in the order of efficient causes we assume ourselves free1 in order that in the order of ends we may conceive ourselves as subject to moral laws3 and we afterwards conceive ourselves as subject to these laws1 bjecause we have attributed to ourselves freedom of will3 for freedom and self- legislation of will are both autonomy1 and therefore are reciprocal conceptions1 and for this very reason one must not be used to explain the other or give the reason of it1 but at most only for logical purposes to reduce apparently different notions of the same object to one single concept 7as we reduce different fractions of the same value to the lowest terms74 ,one resource retrains to us1 namely1 to inquire whether we do not occupy different points of view when by means of freedom we think ourselves as causes efficient a priori1 and when we form our conception of ourselves from our actions as effects which we see before our eyes4 ,it is a remark which needs no subtle reflection to make1 but which we may assume that even the commonest understanding can make1 although it be after its fashion by an obscure discernment of judgment which it calls feeling1 that all the ideas ,footnote3 ,the common understanding being here spoken of1 ,i use the word idea in its popular sense4 that comes to us involuntarily 7as those of the senses7 do not enable us to know objects otherwise than as they affect us2 so that what they may be in themselves remains unknown to us1 and consequently that as regards ideas of this kind even with the closest attention and clearness that the understanding can apply to them1 we can by them only attain to the knowledge of appearances1 never to that of things in themselves4 ,as soon as this distinction has once been made 7perhaps merely in consequence of the difference observed between the ideas given us from without1 and in which we are passive1 and those that we produce simply from ourselves1 and in which we show our own activity71 then it follows of itself that we must admit and assume behind the appearance something else that is not an appearance1 namely1 the things in themselves2 although we must admit that as they can never be known to us except as they affect us1 we can come no nearer to them1 nor can we ever know what they are in themselves4 ,this must furnish a distinction1 however crude1 between a world of sense and the world of understanding1 of which the former may be different according to the difference of the sensuous impressions in--various observers1 while the second which is its basis always remains the same4 ,even as to himself1 a man cannot pretend to know what he is in himself from the knowledge he has by internal sensation4 ,for as he does not as it were create himself1 and does not come by the conception of himself a priori but empirically1 it naturally follows that he can obtain his knowledge even of himself only by the inner sense1 and consequently only through the appearances of his nature and the way in which his consciousness is affected4 ,at the same time beyond these characteristics of his own subject1 made up of mere appearances1 he must necessarily suppose something else as their basis1 namely1 his ego1 whatever its characteristics in itself may be4 ,thus in respect to mere perception and receptivity of sensations he must reckon himself as belonging to the world of sense1 but in respect of whatever there may be of pure activity in him 7that which reaches consciousness immediately and not through affecting the senses7 he must reckon himself as belonging to the intellectual world1 of which1 however1 he has no further knowledge4 ,to such a conclusion the reflecting man must come with respect ito all the things which can be presented to him3 it is probably to be met with even in persons of the commonest understanding1 who1 as is well known1 are very much inclined to suppose behind the objects of the senses something else invisible and acting of itself4 ,they spoil it1 however1 by presently sensualizing this invisible again2 that is to say1 wanting to make it an object of intuition1 so that they do not become a whit the wiser4 ,now man really finds in himself a faculty by which he distinguishes himself from everything else1 even from himself as affected by objects1 and that is ,reason4 ,this being pure spontaneity is even elevated above the understanding4 ,for although the latter is a spontaneity and does not1 like sense1 merely contain intuitions that arise when we are affected by things 7and are therefore passive71 yet it cannot produce from its activity any other conceptions than those which merely serve to bring the intuitions of sense under rulesf and thereby to unite them in one consciousness1 and without this use of the sensibility it could not think at all2 whereas1 on the contrary1 ,reason shows so pure a spontaneity in the case of what ,i call ,ideas ,ideal ,conceptions that it thereby far transcends everything that the sensibility can give it1 and exhibits its most important function in distinguishing the world of sense from that of understanding1 and thereby prescribing the limits of the understanding itself4 ,for this reason a rational being must regard himself qua intelligence 7not from the side of his lower faculties7 as belonging not to the world of sense1 but to that of understanding2 hence he has two points of view from which he can regard himself1 and recognise laws of the exercise of his faculties1 and consequently of all his actions3 first1 so far as he belongs to the world of sense1 he finds himself subject to laws of nature 7heteronomy72 secondly1 as belonging to the intelligible world1 under laws which being independent on nature have their foundation not in experience but in reason alone4 ,as a rational being1 and consequently belonging to the intelligible world1 man can never conceive the causality of his own will otherwise than on condition of the idea of freedom4 for independence on the determining causes of the sensible world 7an independence which ,reason must always ascribe to itself7 is freedom4 ,now the idea of freedom is inseparably connected with the conception of autonomy1 and this again with the universal principle of morality which is ideally the foundation of all actions of rational beings1 just as the law of nature is of all phenomena4 ,now the suspicion is removed which we raised above1 that there was a latent circle involved in our reasoning from freedom to autonomy1 and from this to the moral law1 viz43 that we laid down the idea of freedom because of the moral law only that we might afterwards in turn infer the latter from freedom and that consequently we could assign no reason at all for this law1 but could only present ,footnote3 ,the verb is wanting in the original4 it as a petitio principii which well disposed minds would gladly concede to us1 but which we could never put forward as a provable proposition4 ,for now we see that when we conceive ourselves as free we transfer ourselves into the--world of understanding as members of it1 and recognise the autonomy of the will with its consequence1 morality2 whereas1 if we conceive ourselves as under obligation we consider ourselves as belonging to the world of sense1 and at the same time to the world of understanding4 ,how is a ,categorical ,imperative ,possible8 ,every rational being reckons himself qua intelligence as belonging to the world of understanding1 and it is simply as an efficient cause belonging to that world that he calls his causality a will4 ,on the other side he is also conscious of himself as a part of the world of sense in which his actions which are mere appearances phenomena of that causality are displayed2 we cannot1 however1 discern how they are possible from this causality which we do not know2 but instead of that1 these actions as belonging to the sensible world must be viewed as determined by other phenomena1 namely1--desires and inclinations4 ,if therefore ,i were only a member of the world of understanding1 then all my actions would perfectly conform to the principle of autonomy of the pure will2 if ,i were only a part of the world of sense they would necessarily be assumed to conform wholly to the natural law of desires and inclinations1 in other words1 to the heteronomy of nature4 7,the former would rest on morality as the supreme principle1 the latter on happiness471 ,since1 however1 the world of understanding contains the foundation of the world of sense1 and consequently of its laws alsof and accordingly gives the law to my will 7which belongs wholly to the world of understanding7 directly1 and must be conceived as doing so1 it follows that1 although on the one side ,i must regard myself as a being belonging to the world of sense1 yet on the other side ,i must recognise myself as subject as an intelligence to the law of the world of understanding1 i4 e41 to reason1 which contains this law in the idea of freedom1 and therefore as subject to the autonomy of the will3 consequently ,i must regard the laws of the world of understanding as imperatives for me1 and the actions which conform to them as duties4 ,and thus what makes categorical imperatives possible is this1 that the idea of freedom makes me a member of an intelligible world1 in consequence of which if ,i were nothing else all my actions would always conform to the autonomy of the will2 but as ,i at the same time intuite myself as a member of the world of sense1 they ought so to conform1 and this categorical ought implies a synthetic a priori proposition1 inasmuch as besides my will as affected by sensible desires there is added further the idea of the same will but as belonging to the world of the understanding1 pure and practical of itself1 which contains the supreme condition according to ,reason of the former will2 precisely as to the intuitions of sense there are added concepts of the understanding which of themselves signify nothing but regular form in general1 and in this way synthetic a priori propositions become possible1 on which all knowledge of physical nature rests4 ,the practical use of common human reason confirms this reasoning4 ,there is no one1 not even the most consummate villain1 provided only that he is otherwise accustomed to the use of reason1 who1 when we set before him examples of tionesty of purposea of steadfastness in following good maxims1 of sympathy and general benevolence 7even combined with great sacrifices of advantages and comfort71 does not wish that he might also possess these qualities4 ,only on account of his inclinations and impulses he cannot attain this in himself1 but at the same time he wishes to be free from such inclinations which are burdensome to himself4 ,he proves by this that he transfers himself in thought with a will free from the impulses of--the sensibility into an order of things wholly different from that of his desires in the field of the sensibility2 since he cannot expect to obtain by that wish any gratification of his desires1 nor any position which would satisfy any of his actual or supposable inclinations 7for this would destroy the pre-eminence of the very idea which wrests that wish from him73 he can only expect a greater intrinsic worth of his own person4 ,this better person1 however1 he imagines himself to be when he transfers himself to the point of view of a member of the world of the understanding1 to which he is involuntarily forced by the idea of freedom1 i4 e41 of independence on determining causes of the world of sense2 and from this point of view he is conscious of a good will1 which by his own confession constitutes the law for the bad will that he possesses as a member of the world of sense-a law whose authority he recognises while transgressing it4 ,what he morally ought is then what he necessarily would as a member of the world of the understanding1 and is conceived by him as an ought only inasmuch as he likewise considers himself as a member of the world of sense4 ,on the ,extreme ,limits of all ,practical ,philosophy ,all men attribute to themselves freedom of will4 ,hence come all judgments upon actions as being such as ought to have been done1 although they have not been done4 ,however1 this freedom is not a conception of experience1 nor can it be so1 since it still remains1 even though experience shows the contrary of what on supposition of freedom are conceived as its necessary consequences4 ,on the other side it is equally necessary that everything that takes place should be fixedly determined according to laws of nature4 ,this necessity of nature is likewise tot an empirical conception1 just for this reason1 that it involves the motion of necessity and consequently of a priori cognition4 ,but this conception of a system of nature is confirmed by experience1 and it must even be inevitably presupposed if experience itself is to be possible1 that is1 a connected knowledge of the objects of sense resting on general laws4 ,therefore freedom is only an ,idea ,ideal ,conception of ,reason1 and its objective reality in itself is doubtful1 while nature is a concept of the understanding which proves1 and must necessarily prove1 its reality in examples of experience4 ,there arises from this a dialectic of ,reason1 since the freedom attributed to the will appears to contradict the necessity of nature1 and placed between these two ways ,reason for speculative purposes finds the road of physical necessity much more beaten and more appropriate than that of freedom2 yet for practical purposes the narrow footpath of freedom is the only one on which it is possible to make use of reason in our conduct2 hence it is just as impossible for the subtlest philosophy as for the commonest reason of men to argue away freedom4 ,philosophy must then assume that no real contradiction will be found between freedom and physical necessity of the same human actions1 for it cannot give up the conception of nature any more than that of freedom4 ,nevertheless1 even though we should never be able to comprehend how freedom is possible1 we must at least remove this apparent contradiction in a convincing manner4 ,for if the thought of freedom contradicts either itself or nature1 which is equally necessary1 it must in competition with physical necessity be entirely given up4 ,it would1 however1 be impossible to escape this contradiction if the thinking subject1 which seems to itself free1 conceived itself in the same sense or in the very same relation when it calls itself free as when in respect of the same action it assumes itself to be subject to the law of nature4 ,hence it is an indispensable problem of speculative philosophy to show that its illusion respecting the contradiction rests on this1 that we think of man in a different sense and relation when we call him free1 and when we regard him as subject to the laws of nature as being part and parcel of nature4 ,it must1 therefore1 show that not only can both these very well co- exist1 but that both must be thought as necessarily united in the same subject1 since otherwise no reason could be given why we should burden reason with an idea which1 though it may possibly without contradiction be reconciled with another that is sufficiently established1 yet entangles us in a perplexity which sorely embarrasses ,reason in its theoretic employment4 ,this duty1 however1 belongs only to speculative philosophy1 in order that it may clear the way for practical philosophy4 ,the philosopher then has no option whether he will remove the apparent contradiction or leave it untouched2 for in fhe latter case the theory respecting this would be bonum vacans into the possession of which the fatalist would have a right to enter1 and chase all morality out of its supposed domain as occupying it without title4 ,we cannot1 however1 as yet say that we are touching the bounds of practical philosophy4 ,for the settlement of that controversy does not belong to it2 it only demands from speculative reason hat it should put an end to the discord in which it entangles itself in theoretical questions1 so that practical reason may have rest and security from external attacks which might make the ground debatable on which it desires to build4 ,the claims to freedom of will made even by common reason are founded on the consciousness and the admitted supposition that reason is independent on merely subjectively determined causes which together ,constitute what belongs to sensation only1 and which consequently come under the general designation of sensibility4 ,man considering himself in this way as an intelligence1 places himself thereby in a different order of things and in a relation to determining grounds of a wholly different kind when on the one hand he thinks of himself as an intelligence endowed with a will1 and consequently with causality1 and when on the other he perceives himself as a phenomenon in the world of sense 7as he really is also71 and affirms that his causality is subject to external determination according to laws of nature4 ,footnote3 ,the punctuation of the original gives the following sense3 ,submits his causality1 as regards its external determination1 to laws of nature4 have ventured to make what appears to be a necessary correction1 by simply removing a comma4 ,now he soon becomes aware that both can hold good1 nay1 must hold good at the same time4 ,for there is not the smallest contradiction in saying that a thing in appearance 7belonging to the world of sense7 is subject to certain laws1 on which the very same as a thing or being in itself is independent2 and that he must conceive and think of himself in this twofold way1 rests as to the first on the consciousness of himself as an object affected through the senses1 and as to the second on the consciousness of himself as an intelligence1 i4 e41 as independent on sensible impressions in the employment of his reason 7in other words as belonging to the world of understanding74 ,hence it comes to pass that man claims the possession of a will which takes no account of anything that comes under the head of desires and inclinations1 and on the contrary conceives actions as possible to him1 nay1 even as necessary1 which can only be done by disregarding all desires and sensible inclinations4 ,the causality of such actions ,footnote3 ,m4 ,barni translates as if he read desselben instead of derselben1 the causality of this will4 ,so also ,mr4 ,semple4 lies in him as an intelligence and in the laws of effects and actions which depend on the principles of an intelligible world1 of which indeed he knows nothing more than that in it pure reason alone independent on sensibility gives the law2 moreover since it is only in that world1 as an intelligence1 that he is his proper self 7being as man only the appearance of himself7 those laws apply to him directly and categorically1 so that the incitements of inclinations and appetites 7in other words the whole nature of the world of sense7 cannot impair the laws of his volition as an intelligence4 ,nay1 he does not even hold himself responsible for the former or ascribe them to his proper self1 i4 e41 his will3 he only ascribes to his will any indulgence which he might yield them if he allowed them to influence his maxims to the prejudice of the rational laws of the will4 ,when practical ,reason thinks itself into a world of understanding it does not thereby transcend its own limits1 as it would if it tried to enter it by intuition or sensation4 ,the former is only a negative thought in respect of the world of sense1 which does not give any laws to reason in determining the will1 and is positive only in this single point that this freedom as a negative characteristic is at the same time conjoined with a 7positive7 faculty and even with a causality of reason1 which we designate a will1 namely1 a faculty of so acting that the principle of the actions shall conform to the essential character of a rational motive1 i4 e41 the condition that the maxim have universal validity as a law4 ,but were it to borrow an object of will1 that is1 a motive1 from the world of understanding1 then it would overstep its bounds and pretend to be acquainted with something of which it knows nothing4 ,the conception of a world of the understanding is then only a point of view which ,reason finds itself compelled to take outside the appearances in order to conceive itself as practical1 which would not be possible if the influences of the sensibility had a determining power on man1 but which is necessary unless he is to be denied the consciousness of himself as an intelligence1 and consequently as a rational cause1 energizing by reason1 that is1 operating freely4 ,this thought certainly involves the idea of an order and a system of laws different from that of the mechanism of nature which belongs to the sensible world1 and it makes the conception of an intelligible world necessary 7that is to say1 the whole system of rational beings as things in themselves74 ,but it does not in the least authorize us to think of it further than as to its formal condition only1 that is1 the universality of the maxims of the will as laws1 and consequently the autonomy of the latter1 which alone is consistent with its freedom2 whereas1 on the contrary1 all laws that refer to a definite object give heteronomy1 which only belongs to laws of nature1 and can only apply to the sensible world4 ,but ,reason would overstep all its bounds if it undertook to explain how pure reason can be practical1 which would be exactly the same problem as to explain how freedom is possible4 ,for we can explain nothing but that which we can reduce to laws1 the object of which can be given in some possible experience4 ,but freedom is a mere ,idea ,ideal ,conception1 the objective reality of which can in no wise be shown according to laws of nature1 and consequently not in any possible experience2 and for this reason it can never be comprehended or understood1 because we cannot support it by any sort of example or analogy4 ,it holds good only as a necessary hypothesis of reason in a being that believes itself conscious of a will1 that is1 of a faculty distinct from mere desire 7namely1 a faculty of determining itself to action as an intelligence71 in other words1 by laws of reason independently on natural instincts4 ,now where determination according to laws of nature ceases1 there all explanation ceases also1 and nothing remains but defence1 i4 e4 the removal of the objections of those who pretend to have seen deeper into the nature of things1 and thereupon boldly declare freedom impossible4 ,we can only point out to them that the supposed contradiction that they have discovered in it arises only from this1 that in order to be able to apply the law of nature to human actions1 they must necessarily consider man as an appearance3 then when we demand of them that they should also think of him qua intelligence as a thing in itself1 they still persist in considering him in this respect also as an appearance4 ,in this view it would no doubt be a contradiction to suppose the causality of the same subject 7that is1 his will7 to be withdrawn from all the natural laws of the sensible world4 ,but this contradiction disappears1 if they would only bethink themselves and admit1 as is reasonable1 that behind the appearances there must also lie at their root 7although hidden7 the things in themselves1 and that we cannot expect the laws of these to be the same as those that govern their appearances4 ,the subjective impossibility of explaining the freedom of the will is identical with the impossibility of discovering and explaining an interest ,footnote3 ,interest is that by which reason becomes practical1 i4 e41 a cause determining the will4 ,hence we say of rational beings only that they take an interest in a thing2 irrational beings only feel sensual appetites4 ,reason takes a direct interest in action then only when the universal validity of its maxims is alone sufficient to determine the will4 ,such an interest alone is pure4 ,but if it can determine the will only by means of another object of desire or on the suggestion of a particular feeling of the subject1 then ,reason takes only an indirect interest in the action1 and as ,reason by itself without experience cannot discover either objects of the will or a ,special feeling actuating it1 this latter interest would only be empirical1 and not a pure rational interest4 ,the logical interest of ,reason 7namely1 to extend its insight7 is never direct1 but presupposes purposes for which reason is employed4 which man can take in the moral law4 ,nevertheless he does actually take an interest in it1 the basis of which in us we call the moral feeling1 which some have falsely assigned as the standard of our moral judgment1 whereas it must rather be viewed as the subjective effect that the law exercises on the will1 the objective principle of which is furnished by ,reason alone4 ,in order indeed that a rational being who is also affected through the senses should will what ,reason alone directs such beings that they ought to will1 it is no doubt requisite that reason should have a power to infuse a feeling of pleasure or satisfaction in the fulfilment of duty1 that is to say1 that it should have a causality by which it determines the sensibility according to its own principles4 ,but it is quite impossible to discern1 i4 e41 to make it intelligible a priori1 how a mere thought1 which itself contains nothing sensible1 can itself produce a sensation of pleasure or pain2 for this is a particular kind of causality of which as of every other causality we can determine nothing whatever a priori1 we must only consult experience about it4 ,but as this cannot supply us with any relation of cause and effect except between two objects of experience1 whereas in this case1 although indeed the effect produced lies within experience1 yet the cause is supposed to be pure reason acting through mere ideas which offer no object to experience1 it follows that for us men it is quite impossible to explain how and why the universality of the maxim as a law1 that is1 morality1 interests4 ,this only is certain1 that it is not because it interests us that it has validity for us 7for that would be heteronomy and dependence of practical reason on sensibility1 namely1 on a feeling as its principle1 in which case it could never give moral laws71 but that it interests us because it is valid for us as men1 inasmuch as it had its source in our will as intelligences1 in other words in our proper self1 and what belongs to mere appearance is necessarily subordinated by reason to the nature of the thing in itself4 ,the question then3 ,how a categorical imperative is possible can be answered to this extent that we can assign the only hypothesis on which it is possible1 namely1 the idea of freedom2 and we can also discern the necessity of this hypothesis1 and this is sufficient for the practical exercise of reason1 that is1 for the conviction of the validity of this imperative1 and hence of the moral law2 but how this hypothesis itself is possible can never be discerned by any human reason4 ,on the hypothesis1 however1 that the will of an intelligence is free1 its autonomy1 as the essential formal condition of its determination1 is a necessary consequence4 ,moreover1 this freedom of will is not merely quite possible as a hypothesis 7not involving any contradiction to the principle of physical necessity in the connexion of the phenomena of the sensible world7 as speculative philosophy can show3 but further1 a rational being who is conscious of a causality ,footnote3 ,reading einer for seiner4 through reason1 that is to say1 of a will 7distinct from desires71 must of necessity make it practically1 that is1 in idea1 the condition of all his voluntary actions4 ,but to explain how pure reason can be of itself practical without the aid of any spring of action that could be derived from any other source1 i4 e4 how the mere principle of the universal validity of all its maxims as laws 7which would certainly be the form of a pure practical reason7 can of itself supply a spring1 without any matter 7object7 of the will in which one could antecedently take any interest2 and how it can produce an interest which would be called purely moral2 or in other words1 how pure reason can be practical--to explain this is beyond the power of human reason1 and all the labour and pains of seeking an explanation of it are lost4 ,it is just the same as if ,i sought to find out how freedom itself is possible as the causality of a will4 ,for then ,i quit the ground of philosophical explanation1 and ,i have no other to go upon4 ,i might indeed revel in the world of intelligences which still remains to me1 but although ,i have an idea of it which is well founded1 yet ,i have not the least knowledge of it1 nor can ,i ever attain to such knowledge with all the efforts of my natural faculty of reason4 ,it signifies only a something that remains over when ,i have eliminated everything belonging to the world of sense from the actuating principles of my will1 serving merely to keep in bounds the principle of motives taken from the field of sensibility2 fixing its limits and showing that it does not contain all in all within itself1 but that there is more beyond it2 but this something more ,i know no further4 ,of pure reason which frames this ideal1 there remains after the abstraction of all matter1 i4 e41 knowledge of objects1 nothing but the form1 namely1 the practical law of the universality of the maxims1 and in conformity with this the conception of reason in reference to a pure world of understanding as a possible efficient cause1 that is a cause determining the will4 ,there must here be a total absence of springs2 unless this idea of an intelligible world is itself the spring1 or that in which reason primarily takes an interest2 but to make this intelligible is precisely the problem that we cannot solve4 ,here now is the extreme limit of all moral inquiry1 and it is of great importance to determine it even on this account1 in order that reason may not on the one hand1 to the prejudice of morals1 seek about in the world of sense for the supreme motive and an interest comprehensible but empirical2 and on the other hand1 that it may not impotently flap its wings without being able to move in the 7for it7 empty space of transcendent concepts which we call the intelligible world1 and so lose itself amidst chimeras4 ,for the rest1 the idea of a pure world of understanding as a system of all intelligences1 and to which we ourselves as tational beings belong 7although we are likewise on the other side members of the sensible world71 this remains always a useful and legitimate idea for the purposes of rational belief1 although all knowledge stops at its threshold1 useful1 namely1 to produce in us a lively interest in the moral law by means of the noble ideal of a universal kingdom of ends in themselves 7rational beings71 to which we can belong as members then only when we carefully conduct ourselves according to the maxims of freedom as if they were laws of nature4 ,concluding ,remark ,the speculative employment of reason with respect to nature leads to the absolute necessity of some supreme cause of the world3 the practical employment of reason with a view to freedom leads also to absolute necessity1 but only of the laws of the actions of a rational being as such4 ,now it is an essential principle of reason1 however employed1 to push its knowledge to a consciousness of its necessity 7without which it would not be rational knowledge74 ,it is however an equally essential restriction of the same reason that it can neither discern the necessity of what is or what happens1 nor of what ought to happen1 unless a condition is supposed on which it is or happens or ought to happen4 ,in this way1 however1 by the constant inquiry for the condition1 the satisfaction of reason is only further and further postponed4 ,hence it unceasingly seeks the unconditionally necessary1 and finds itself forced to assume it1 although without any means of making it comprehensible to itself1 happy enough if only it can discover a conception which agrees with this assumption4 ,it is therefore no fault in our deduction of the supreme principle of morality1 but an objection that should be made to human reason in general1 that it cannot enable us to conceive the absolute necessity of an unconditional practical law 7such as the categorical imperative must be74 ,it cannot be blamed for refusing to explain this necessity by a condition1 that is to say1 by means of some interest assumed as a basis1 since the law would then cease to be a moral law1 i4 e4 a supreme law of freedom4 ,and thus while we do not comprehend the practical unconditional necessity of the moral imperative1 we yet comprehend its incomprehensibility1 and this is all that can be fairly demanded of a philosophy which strives to carry its principles up to the very limit of human reason4 ,,byron ,,and ,,goethe ,,by ,,giuseppe ,,mazzini ,,introductory ,,note ,giuseppe ,mazzini1 the great political idealist of the ,italian struggle for independence1 was born at ,genoa1 ,june #bb1 #ahje4 ,his faith in democracy and his enthusiasm for a free ,italy he inherited from his parents2 and while still a student in the ,university of ,genoa he gathered round him a circle of youths who shared his dreams4 ,at the age of twenty-two he joined the secret society of the ,carbonari1 and was sent on a mission to ,tuscany1 where he was entrapped and arrested4 ,on his release1 he set about the formation1 among the ,italian exiles in ,marseilles1 of the ,society of ,young ,italy1 which had for its aim the establishment of a free and united ,italian republic4 ,his activities led to a decree for his banishment from ,france1 but he succeeded in outwitting the spies of the ,government and going on with his work4 ,the conspiracy for a national rising planned by ,young ,italy was discovered1 many of the leaders were executed1 and ,mazsini himself condemned to death4 ,almost at once1 however1 he resumed operations1 working this time from ,geneva2 but another abortive expedition led to his expulsion from ,switzerland4 ,he found refuge1 but at first hardly a livelihood1 in ,london1 where he continued his propaganda by means of his pen4 ,he went back to ,italy when the revolution of #ahdh broke out1 and fought fiercely but in vain against the ,french1 when they besieged ,rome and ended the ,roman ,republic in #ahdi4 ,defeated and broken1 he returned to ,england1 where he remained till called to ,italy by the insurrection of #aheg4 ,he worked with ,garibaldi for some time2 but the kingdom established under ,victor ,emmanuel by ,cavour and ,garibaldi was far from the ideal ,italy for which ,mazsini had striven4 ,the last years of his life were spent mainly in ,london1 but at the end he returned to ,italy1 where he died on ,march #aj1ahgb4 ,hardly has any age seen a political martyr of a purer or nobler type4 ,massini's essay on ,byron and ,goethe is more than literary criticism1 for it exhibits that philosophical quality which gives so remarkable a unity to the writings of ,massini1 whether literary1 social1 or political4 ,,byron ,,and ,,goethe ,i stood one day in a ,swiss village at the foot of the ,jura1 and watched the coming of the storm4 ,heavy black clouds1 their edges purpled by the setting sun1 were rapidly covering the loveliest sky in ,europe1 save that of ,italy4 ,thunder growled in the distance1 and gusts of biting wind were driving huge drops of rain over the thirsty plain4 ,looking upwards1 ,i beheld a large ,alpine falcon1 now rising1 now sinking1 as he floated bravely in the very midst of the storm and ,i could almost fancy that he strove to battle with it4 ,at every fresh peal of thunder1 the noble bird bounded higher aloft1 as if in answering defiance4 ,i followed him with my eyes for a long time1 until he disappeared in the east4 ,on the ground1 about fifty paces beneath me1 stood a stork2 perfectly tranquil and impassive in the midst of the warring elements4 ,twice or thrice she turned her head towards the quarter from whence the wind came1 with an indescribable air of half indifferent curiosity2 but at length she drew up one of her long sinewy legs1 hid her head beneath her wing1 and calmly composed herself to sleep4 ,i thought of ,byron and ,goethe2 of the stormy sky that overhung both2 of the tempest-tossed existence1 the lifelong struggle1 of the one1 and the calm of the other2 and of the two mighty sources of poetry exhausted and closed by them4 ,byron and ,goethe--the two names that predominate1 and1 come what may1 ever will predominate1 over our every recollection of the fifty years that have passed away4 ,they rule2 the master-minds1 ,i might almost say the tyrants1 of a whole period of poetry2 brilliant1 yet sad2 glorious in youth and daring1 yet cankered by the worm in the bud1 despair4 ,they are the two representative poets of two great schools2 and around them we are compelled to group all the lesser minds which contributed to render the era illustrious4 ,the qualities which adorn and distinguish their works are to be found1 although more thinly scattered1 in other poets their contemporaries2 still theirs are the names that involuntarily rise to our lips whenever we seek to characterize the tendencies of the age in which they lived4 ,their genius pursued different1 even opposite routes2 and yet very rarely do our thoughts turn to either without evoking the image of the other1 as a sort of necessary complement to the first4 ,the eyes of ,europe were fixed upon the pair1 as the spectators gaze on two mighty wrestlers in the same arena2 and they1 like noble and generous adversaries1 admired1 praised1 and held out the hand to each other4 ,many poets have followed in their footsteps2 none have been so popular4 ,others have found judges and critics who have appreciated them calmly and impartially2 not so they3 for them there have been only enthusiasts or enemies1 wreaths or stones2 and when they vanished into the vast night that envelops and transforms alike men and things--silence reigned around their tombs4 ,little by little1 poetry had passed away from our world1 and it seemed as if their last sigh had extinguished the sacred flame4 ,a reaction has now commenced2 good1 in so far as it reveals a desire for and promise of new life2 evil1 in so far as it betrays narrow views1 a tendency to injustice towards departed genius1 and the absence of any fixed rule or principle to guide our appreciation of the past4 ,human judgment1 like ,luther's drunken peasant1 when saved from falling on one side1 too often topples over on the other4 ,the reaction against ,goethe1 in his own country especially1 which was courageously and justly begun by ,menzel during his lifetime1 has been carried to exaggeration since his death4 ,certain social opinions1 to which ,i myself belong1 but which1 although founded on a sacred principle1 should not be allowed to interfere with the impartiality of our judgment1 have weighed heavily in the balance2 and many young1 ardent1 and enthusiastic minds of our day have reiterated with ,bonne that ,goethe is the worst of despots2 the cancer of the ,german body4 ,the ,english reaction against ,byron--,i do not speak of that mixture of cant and stupidity which denies the poet his place in ,westminster ,abbey1 but of literary reaction--has shown itself still more unreasoning4 ,i have met with adorers of ,shelley who denied the poetic genius of ,byron2 others who seriously compared his poems with those of ,sir ,walter ,scott4 ,one very much overrated critic writes that ,byron makes man after his own image1 and woman after his own heart2 the one is a capricious tyrant1 the other a yielding slave4 ,the first forgot the verses in which their favorite hailed ,the pilgrim of eternity1 whose fame ,over his living head like ,heaven is bent2 ,footnote3 ,adonais4 the second1 that after the appearance of ,the ,giaour and ,childe ,harold1 ,sir ,walter ,scott renounced writing poetry4 ,footnote3 ,lockhart4 ,the last forgot that while he was quietly writing criticisms1 ,byron was dying for new-born liberty in ,greece4 ,all judged1 too many in each country still judge1 the two poets1 ,byron and ,goethe1 after an absolute type of the beautiful1 the true1 or the false1 which they had formed in their own minds2 without regard to the state of social relations as they were or are2 without any true conception of the destiny or mission of poetry1 or of the law by which it1 and every other artistic manifestation of human life1 is governed4 ,there is no absolute type on earth3 the absolute exists in the ,divine ,idea alone2 the gradual comprehension of which man is destined to attain2 although its complete realization is impossible on earth2 earthly life being but one stage of the eternal evolution of life1 manifested in thought and action2 strengthened by all the achievements of the past1 and advancing from age to age towards a less imperfect expression of that idea4 ,our earthly life is one phase of the eternal aspiration of the soul towards progress1 which is our law ascending in increasing power and purity from the finite towards the infinite2 from the real towards the ,ideal2 from that which is1 towards that which is to come4 ,in the immense storehouse of the past evolutions of life constituted by universal tradition1 and in the prophetic instinct brooding in the depths of the human soul1 does poetry seek inspiration4 ,it changes with the times1 for it is their expression2 it is transformed with society1 for-- consciously or unconsciously--it sings the lay of ,humanity2 although1 according to the individual bias or circumstances of the singer1 it assumes the hues of the present1 or of the future in course of elaboration1 and foreseen by the inspiration of genius4 ,it sings now a dirge and now a cradle song2 it initiates or sums up4 ,byron and ,goethe summed up4 ,was it a defect in them8 ,no2 it was the law of the times1 and yet society at the present day1 twenty years after they have ceased to sing1 assumes to condemn them for having been born too soon4 ,happy indeed are the poets whom ,god raises up at the commencement of an era1 under the rays of the rising sun4 ,a series of generations will lovingly repeat their verses1 and attribute to them the new life which they did but foresee in the germ4 ,byron and ,goethe summed up4 ,this is at once the philosophical explanation of their works1 and the secret of their popularity4 ,the spirit of an entire epoch of the ,european world became incarnate in them ere its decease1 even as--in the political sphere--the spirit of ,greece and ,rome became incarnate before death in ,caesar and ,alexander4 ,they were the poetic expression of that principle1 of which ,england was the economic1 ,france the political1 and ,germany the philosophic expression3 the last formula1 effort1 and result of a society founded on the principle of individuality4 ,that epoch1 the mission of which had been1 first through the labors of ,greek philosophy1 and afterwards through ,christianity1 to rehabilitate1 emancipate1 and develop individual man--appears to have concentrated in them1 in ,fichte1 in ,adam ,smith1 and in the ,french school des drolls de l'homme1 its whole energy and power1 in order fully to represent and express all that it had achieved for mankind4 ,it was much2 but it was not the whole2 and therefore it was doomed to pass away4 ,the epoch of individuality was deemed near the goal2 when low immense horizons were revealed2 vast unknown lands in whose untrodden forests the principle of individuality was an insufficient guide4 ,by the long and painful labors of that epoch the human unknown quantity had been disengaged from the various quantities of different nature by which it had been surrounded2 but only to be left weak1 isolated1 and recoiling in terror from the solitude in which it stood4 ,the political schools of the epoch had proclaimed the sole basis of civil organization to be the right to liberty and equality 7liberty for all71 but they had encountered social anarchy by the way4 ,the philosophy of the epoch had asserted the sovereignty of the human ,ego1 and had ended in the mere adoration of fact1 in ,hegelian immobility4 ,the ,economy of the epoch imagined it had organized free competition1 while it had but organized the oppression of the weak by the strong2 of labor by capital2 of poverty by wealth4 ,the ,poetry of the epoch had represented individuality in its every phase2 had translated in sentiment what science had theoretically demonstrated2 and it had encountered the void4 ,but as society at last discovered that the destinies of the race were not contained in a mere problem of liberty1 but rather in the harmonization of liberty with association--so did poetry discover that the life it had hitherto drawn from individuality alone was doomed to perish for want of aliment2 and that its future existence depended on enlarging and transforming its sphere4 ,both society and poetry uttered a cry of despair3 the death-agony of a form of society produced the agitation we have seen constantly increasing in ,europe since #ahae3 the death-agony of a form of poetry evoked ,byron and ,goethe4 ,i believe this point of view to be the only one that can lead us to a useful and impartial appreciation of these two great spirits4 ,there are two forms of individuality2 the expressions of its internal and external1 or--as the ,germans would say--of its subjective and objective life4 ,byron was the poet of the first1 ,goethe of the last4 ,in ,byron the ,ego is revealed in all its pride of power1 freedom1 and desire1 in the uncontrolled plenitude of all its faculties2 inhaling existence at every pore1 eager to seize the life of life4 ,the world around him neither rules nor tempers him4 ,the ,byronian ,ego aspires to rule it2 but solely for dominion's sake1 to exercise upon it the ,titanic force of his will4 ,accurately speaking1 he cannot be said to derive from it either color1 tone1 or image2 for it is he who colors2 he who sings2 he whose image is everywhere reflected and reproduced4 ,his poetry emanates from his own soul2 to be thence diffused upon things external2 he holds his state in the centre of the universe1 and from thence projects the light radiating from the depths of his own mind2 as scorching and intense as the concentrated solar ray4 ,hence that terrible unity which only the superficial reader could mistake for monotony4 ,byron appears at the close of one epoch1 and before the dawn of the other2 in the midst of a community based upon an aristocracy which has outlived the vigor of its prime2 surrounded by a ,europe containing nothing grand1 unless it be ,napoleon on one side and ,pitt on the other1 genius degraded to minister to egotism2 intellect bound to the service of the past4 ,no seer exists to foretell the future3 belief is extinct2 there is only its pretence3 prayer is no more2 there is only a movement of the lips at a fixed day or hour1 for the sake of the family1 or what is called the people2 love is no more2 desire has taken its place2 the holy warfare of ideas is abandoned2 the conflict is that of interests4 ,the worship of great thoughts has passed away4 ,that which is1 raises the tattered banner of some corpse-like traditions2 that which would be1 hoists only the standard of physical wants1 of material appetites3 around him are ruins1 beyond him the desert2 the horizon is a blank4 ,a long cry of suffering and indignation bursts from the heart of ,byron3 he is answered by anathemas4 ,he departs2 he hurries through ,europe in search of an ideal to adore2 he traverses it distracted1 palpitating1 like ,mazeppa on the wild horse2 borne onwards by a fierce desire2 the wolves of envy and calumny follow in pursuit4 ,he visits ,greece2 he visits ,italy2 if anywhere a lingering spark of the sacred fire1 a ray of divine poetry1 is preserved1 it must be there4 ,nothing4 ,a glorious past1 a degraded present2 none of life's poetry2 no movement1 save that of the sufferer turning on his couch to relieve his pain4 ,byron1 from the solitude of his exile1 turns his eyes again towards ,england2 he sings4 ,what does he sing8 ,what springs from the mysterious and unique conception which rules1 one would say in spite of himself1 over all that escapes him in his sleepless vigil8 ,the funeral hymn1 the death-song1 the epitaph of the aristocratic idea2 we discovered it1 we ,continentalists2 not his own countrymen4 ,he takes his types from amongst those privileged by strength1 beauty1 and individual power4 ,they are grand1 poetical1 heroic1 but solitary2 they hold no communion with the world around them1 unless it be to rule1 over it2 they defy alike the good and evil principle2 they will bend to neither4 ,in life and in death they stand upon their strength2 they resist every power1 for their own is all their1 own2 it was purchased by ,superior science--penance--daring- ,and length of watching-strength of mind--and skill ,in knowledge of our fathers4 ,each of them is the personification1 slightly modified1 of a single type1 a single idea--the individual2 free1 but nothing more than free2 such as the epoch now closing has made him2 ,faust1 but without the compact which submits him to the enemy2 for the heroes of ,byron make no such compact4 ,cain kneels not to ,arimanes2 and ,manfred1 about to die1 exclaims3 ,the mind1 which is immortal1 makes itself ,requital for its good and evil thoughts- ,is its own origin of ill1 and end- ,and its own place and time1 its innate sense1 ,when stripped of this mortality1 derives ,no color from the fleeting things without1 ,but is absorbed in sufferance or in joy2 ,born from the knowledge of its own desert4 ,they have no kindred3 they live from their own life only they repulse humanity1 and regard the crowd with disdain4 ,each of them says3 ,i have faith in myself2 never1 ,i have faith in ourselves4 ,they all aspire to power or to happiness4 ,the one and the other alike escape them2 for they bear within them1 untold1 unacknowledged even to themselves1 the presentiment of a life that mere liberty can never give them4 ,free they are2 iron souls in iron frames1 they climb the ,alps of the physical world as well as the ,alps of thought2 still is their visage stamped with a gloomy and ineffaceable sadness2 still is their soul-whether1 as in ,cain and ,manfred1 it plunge into the abyss of the infinite1 intoxicated with eternity1 or scour the vast plain and boundless ocean with the ,corsair and ,giaour--haunted by a secret and sleepless dread4 ,it seems as if they were doomed to drag the broken links of the chain they have burst asunder1 riveted to their feet4 ,not only in the petty society against which they rebel does their soul feel fettered and restrained2 but even in the world of the spirit4 ,neither is it to the enmity of society that they succumb2 but under the assaults of this nameless anguish2 under the corroding action of potent faculties inferior still to their desires and their conceptions2 under the deception that comes from within4 ,what can they do with the liberty so painfully won8 ,on whom1 on what1 expend the exuberant vitality within them8 ,they are alone2 this is the secret of their wretchedness and impotence4 ,they thirst for good--,cain has said it for them all--but cannot achieve it2 for they have no mission1 no belief1 no comprehension even of the world around them4 ,they have never realized the conception of ,humanity in the multitudes that have preceded1 surround1 and will follow after them2 never thought on their own place between the past and future2 on the continuity of labor that unites all the generations into one whole2 on the common end and aim1 only to be realized by the common effort2 on the spiritual post-sepulchral life even on earth of the individual1 through the thoughts he transmits to his fellows2 and1 it may be-- when he lives devoted and dies4 in faith--through the guardian agency he is allowed to exercise over the loved ones left on earth4 ,gifted with a liberty they know not how to use2 with a power and energy they know not how to apply2 with a life whose purpose and aim they comprehend not2 they drag through their useless and convulsed existence4 ,byron destroys them one after the other1 as if he were the executioner of a sentence decreed in heaven4 ,they fall unwept1 like a withered leaf into the stream of time4 ,nor earth nor sky shall yield a single tear1 ,nor cloud shall gather more1 nor leaf shall fall1 ,nor gale breathe forth one sigh for thee1 for all4 ,they die1 as they have lived1 alone2 and a popular malediction hovers round their solitary tombs4 ,this1 for those who can read with the soul's eyes1 is what ,byron sings2 or rather what humanity sings through him4 ,the emptiness of the life and death of solitary individuality has never been so powerfully and efficaciously summed up as in the pages of ,byron4 ,the crowd do not comprehend him3 they listen2 fascinated for an instant2 then repent1 and avenge their momentary transport by calumniating and insulting the poet4 ,his intuition of the death of a form of society they call wounded self-love2 his sorrow for all is misinterpreted as cowardly egotism4 ,they credit not the traces of profound suffering revealed by his lineaments2 they credit not the presentiment of a new life which from time to time escapes his trembling lips2 they believe not in the despairing embrace in which he grasps the material universe--stars1 lakes1 alps1 and sea--and identifies himself with it1 and through it with ,god1 of whom--to him at least--it is a symbol4 ,they do1 however1 take careful count of some unhappy moments1 in which1 wearied out by the emptiness of life1 he has raised--with remorse ,i am sure--the cup of ignoble pleasures to his lips1 believing he might find forgetfulness there4 ,how many times have not his accusers drained this cup1 without redeeming the sin by a single virtue2 without--,i will not say bearing--but without having even the capacity of appreciating the burden which weighed on ,byron6 ,and did he not himself dash into fragments the ignoble cup1 so soon as he beheld something worthy the devotion of his life8 ,goethe--individuality in its objective life--having1 like ,byron1 a sense of the falsehood and evil of the world round him-followed exactly the opposite path4 ,after having--he1 too1 in his youth-- uttered a cry of anguish in his ,werther2 after having laid bare the problem of the epoch in all its terrific nudity1 in ,faust2 he thought he had done enough1 and refused to occupy himself with its solution4 ,it is possible that the impulse of rebellion against social wrong and evil which burst forth for an instant in ,werther may long have held his soul in secret travail2 but that he despaired of the task of reforming it as beyond his powers4 ,he himself remarked in his later years1 when commenting on the exclamation made by a ,frenchman on first seeing him3 ,that is the face of a man who has suffered much3 that he should rather have said3 ,that is the face of a man who has struggled energetically2 but of this there remains no trace in his works4 ,whilst ,byron writhed and suffered under the sense of the wrong and evil around him1 he attained the calm--,i cannot say of victory--but of indifference4 ,in ,byron the man always ruled1 and even at times1 overcame the artist3 the man was completely lost in the artist in ,goethe4 ,in him there was no subjective life2 no unity springing either from heart or head4 ,goethe is an intelligence that receives1 elaborates1 and reproduces the poetry affluent to him from all external objects3 from all points of the circumference2 to him as centre4 ,he dwells aloft alone2 a mighty watcher in the midst of creation4 ,his curious scrutiny investigates1 with equal penetration and equal interest1 the depths of the ocean and the calyx of the floweret4 ,whether he studies the rose exhaling its ,eastern perfume to the sky1 or the ocean casting its countless wrecks upon the shore1 the brow of the poet remains equally calm3 to him they are but two forms of the beautiful2 two subjects for art4 ,goethe has been called a pantheist4 ,i know not in what sense critics apply this vague and often ill-understood word to him4 ,there is a materialistic pantheism and a spiritual pantheism2 the pantheism of ,spinoza and that of ,giordano ,bruno2 of ,st4 ,paul2 and of many others- -all different4 ,but there is no poetic pantheism possible1 save on the condition of embracing the whole world of phenomena in one unique conception3 of feeling and comprehending the life of the universe in its divine unity4 ,there is nothing of this in ,goethe4 ,there is pantheism in some parts of ,wordsworth2 in the third canto of ,childe ,harold1 and in much of ,shelley2 but there is none in the most admirable compositions of ,goethe2 wherein life1 though admirably comprehended and reproduced in each of its successive manifestations1 is never understood as a whole4 ,goethe is the poet of details1 not of unity2 of analysis1 not of synthesis4 ,none so able to investigate details2 to set off and embellish minute and apparently trifling points2 none throw so beautiful a light on separate parts2 but the connecting link escapes him4 ,his works resemble a magnificent encyclopaedia1 unclassified4 ,he has felt everything but he has never felt the whole4 ,happy in detecting a ray of the beautiful upon the humblest blade of grass gemmed with dew2 happy in seizing the poetic elements of an incident the most prosaic in appearance--he was incapable of tracing all to a common source1 and recomposing the grand ascending scale in which1 to quote a beautiful expression of ,herder's every creature is a numerator of the grand denominator1 ,nature4 ,how1 indeed1 should he comprehend these things1 he who had no place in his works or in his poet's heart for humanity1 by the light of which conception only can the true worth of sublunary things be determined8 ,religion and politics1 ,footnote3 ,goethe and his ,contemporaries4 said he1 are a troubled element for art4 ,i have always kept myself aloof from them as much as possible4 ,questions of life and death for the millions were agitated around him2 ,germany re-echoed to the war songs of ,korner2 ,fichte1 at the close of one of his lectures1 seized his musket1 and joined the volunteers who were hastening 7alas6 what have not the ,kings made of that magnificent outburst of nationality67 to fight the battles of their fatherland4 ,the ancient soil of ,germany thrilled beneath their tread2 he1 an artist1 looked on unmoved2 his heart knew no responsive throb to the emotion that shook his country2 his genius1 utterly passive1 drew apart from the current that swept away entire races4 ,he witnessed the ,french ,revolution in all its terrible grandeur1 and saw the old world crumble beneath its strokes2 and while all the best and purest spirits of ,germany1 who had mistaken the death-agony of the old world for the birth-throes of a new1 were wringing their hands at the spectacle of dissolution1 he saw in it only the subject of a farce4 ,he beheld the glory and the fall of ,napoleon2 he witnessed the reaction of down-trodden nationalities--sublime prologue of the grand epopee of the peoples destined sooner or later to be unfolded- -and remained a cold spectator4 ,he had neither learned to esteem men1 to better them1 nor even to suffer with them4 ,if we except the beautiful type of ,berlichingen1 a poetic inspiration of his youth1 man1 as the creature of thought and action2 the artificer of the future1 so nobly sketched by ,schiller in his dramas1 has no representative in his works4 ,he has carried something--of this nonchalance even into the manner in which his heroes conceive love4 ,goethe's altar is spread with the choicest flowers1 the most exquisite perfumes1 the first-fruits of nature2 but the ,priest is wanting4 ,in his work of second creation--for it cannot be denied that such it was--he has gone through the vast circle of living and visible things2 but stopped short before the seventh day4 ,god withdrew from him before that time2 and the creatures the poet has evoked wander within the circle1 dumb and prayerless2 awaiting until the man shall come to give them a name1 and appoint them to a destination4 ,no1 ,goethe is not the poet of ,pantheism2 he is a polytheist in his method as an artist2 the pagan poet of modern times4 ,his world is1 above all things1 the world of forms3 a multiplied ,olympus4 ,the ,mosaic heaven and the ,christian are veiled to him4 ,like the pagans1 he parcels out ,nature into fragments1 and makes of each a divinity2 like them1 he worships the sensuous rather than the ideal2 he looks1 touches1 and listens far more than he feels4 ,and what care and labor are bestowed upon the plastic portion of his art6 what importance is given--,i will not say to the objects themselves--but to the external representation of objects6 ,has he not somewhere said that the beautiful is the result of happy position8,footnote3 ,in the ,kunst und ,alterthum1 ,i think4 ,under this definition is concealed an entire system of poetic materialism1 substituted for the worship of the ideal2 involving a whole series of consequences1 the logical result of which was to lead ,goethe to indifference1 that moral suicide of some of the noblest energies of genius4 ,the absolute concentration of every faculty of observation on each of the objects to be represented1 without relation to the ensemble2 the entire avoidance of every influence likely to modify the view taken of that object1 became in his hands one of the most effective means of art4 ,the poet1 in his eyes1 was neither the rushing stream a hundred times broken on its course1 that it may carry fertility to the surrounding country2 nor the brilliant flame1 consuming itself in the light it sheds around while ascending to heaven2 but rather the placid lake1 reflecting alike the tranquil landscape and the thunder-cloud2 its own surface the while unruffled even by the lightest breeze4 ,a serene and passive calm with the absolute clearness and distinctness of successive impressions1 in each of which he was for the time wholly absorbed1 are the peculiar characteristics of ,goethe4 ,i allow the objects ,i desire to comprehend1 to act tranquilly upon me1 said he2 ,i then observe the impression ,i have received from them1 and ,i endeavor to render it faithfully4 ,goethe has here portrayed his every feature to perfection4 ,he was in life such as ,madame ,von ,arnim proposed to represent him after death2 a venerable old man1 with a serene1 almost radiant countenance2 clothed in an antique robe1 holding a lyre resting on his knees1 and listening to the harmonies drawn from it either by the hand of a genius1 or the breath of the winds4 ,the last chords wafted his soul to the ,east2 to the land of inactive contemplation4 ,it was time3 ,europe had become too agitated for him4 ,such were ,byron and ,goethe in their general characteristics2 both great poets2 very different1 and yet1 complete as is the contrast between them1 and widely apart as are the paths they pursue1 arriving at the same point4 ,life and death1 character and poetry1 everything is unlike in the two1 and yet the one is the complement of the other4 ,both are the children of fatality--for it is especially at the close of epochs that the providential law which directs the generations assumes towards individuals the semblance of fatality--and compelled by it unconsciously to work out a great mission4 ,goethe contemplates the world in parts1 and delivers the impressions they make upon him1 one by one1 as occasion presents them4 ,byron looks upon the world from a single comprehensive point of view2 from the height of which he modifies in his own soul the impressions produced by external objects1 as they pass before him4 ,goethe successively absorbs his own individuality in each of the objects he reproduces4 ,byron stamps every object he portrays with his own individuality4 ,to ,goethe1 nature is the symphony2 to ,byron it is the prelude4 ,she furnishes to the one the entire subject2 to the other the occasion only of his verse4 ,the one executes her harmonies2 the other composes on the theme she has suggested4 ,goethe better exgresses lives2 ,byron life4 ,the one is most vast2 the other more deep4 ,the first searches everywhere for the beautiful1 and loves1 above all things1 harmony and repose2 the other seeks the sublime1 and adores action and force4 ,characters1 such as ,coriolanus or ,luther1 disturbed ,goethe4 ,i know not if1 in his numerous pieces of criticism1 he has ever spoken of ,dante2 but assuredly he must have shared the antipathy felt for him by ,sir ,walter ,scott2 and although he would undoubtedly have sufficiently respected his genius to admit him into his ,pantheon1 yet he would certainly have drawn a veil between his mental eye and the grand but sombre figure of the exiled seer1 who dreamed of the future empire of the world for his country1 and of the world's harmonious development under her guidance4 ,byron loved and drew inspiration from ,dante4 ,he also loved ,washington and ,franklin1 and followed1 with all the sympathies of a soul athirst for action1 the meteor-like career of the greatest genius of action our age has produced1 ,napoleon2 feeling indignant-- perhaps mistakenly--that he did not die in the struggle4 ,when travelling in that second fatherland of all poetic souls-- ,italy--the poets still pursued divergent routes2 the one experienced sensations2 the other emotions2 the one occupied himself especially with nature2 the other with the greatness dead1 the living wrongs1 the human memories4 ,footnote3 ,the contrast between the two poets is nowhere more strikingly displayed than by the manner in which they were affected by the sight of ,rome4 ,in ,goethe's ,elegies and in his ,travels in ,italy we find the impressions of the artist only4 ,he did not understand ,rome4 ,the eternal synthesis that1 from the heights of the ,capitol and ,st4 ,peter1 is gradually unfolded in ever-widening circles1 embracing first a nation and then ,europe1 as it will ultimately embrace humanity1 remained unrevealed to him2 he saw only the inner circle of paganism2 the least prolific1 as well as least indigenous4 ,one might fancy that he caught a glimpse of it for an instant1 when he wrote3 ,history is read here far otherwise than in any other spot in the universe2 elsewhere we read it from without to within2 here one seems to read it from within to without2 but if so1 he soon lost sight of it again1 and became absorbed in external nature4 ,whether we halt or advance1 we discover a landscape ever renewing itself in a thousand fashions4 ,we have palaces and ruins2 gardens and solitudes3 the horizon lengthens in the distance1 or suddenly contracts2 huts and stables1 columns and triumphal arches1 all lie pell-mell1 and often so close that we might find room for all on the same sheet of paper4 ,at ,rome ,byron forgot passions1 sorrows1 his own individuality1 all1 in the presence of a great idea2 witness this utterance of a soul born for devotedhess3-- ,o ,rome6 my country6 city of the soul6 ,the orphans of the heart must turn to thee1 ,lone mother of dead empires6 and control ,in their shut breasts their petty misery4 ,when at last he came to a recollection of himself and his position1 it was with a hope for the world 7stanza #ih7 and a pardon for his enemies4 ,from the fourth canto of ,childe ,harold1 the daughter of ,byron might learn more of the true spirit of her father than from all the reports she may have heard1 and all the many volumes that have been written upon him4 ,and yet1 notwithstanding all the contrasts1 which ,i have only hinted at1 but which might be far more elaborately displayed by extracts from their works2 they arrived--,goethe1 the poet of individuality in its objective life--at the egotism of indifference2 ,byron--the poet of individuality an its subjective life--at the egotism 7,i say it with regret1 but it1 too1 is egotism7 of despair3 a double sentence upon the epoch which it was their mission to represent and to close6 ,both of them--,i am not speaking of their purely literary merits1 incontestable and universally acknowledged--the one by the spirit of resistance that breathes through all his creations2 the other by the spirit of sceptical irony that pervades his works1 and by the independent sovereignty attributed to art over all social relations- -greatly aided the cause of intellectual emancipation1 and awakened in men's minds the sentiment of liberty4 ,both of them--the one1 directly1 by the implacable war he waged against the vices and absurdities of the privileged classes1 and indirectly1 by investing his heroes with all the most brilliant qualities of the despot1 and then dashing them to pieces as if in anger2--the other1 by the poetic rehabilitation of forms the most modest1 and objects the most insignificant1 as well as by the importance attributed to details-- combated aristocratic prejudices1 and developed in men's minds the sentiment of equality4 ,and having by their artistic excellence exhausted both forms of the poetry of individuality1 they have completed the cycle cf its poets2 thereby reducing all followers in the same sphere to the subaltern position of imitators1 and creating the necessity of a new order of poetry2 teaching us to recognize a want where before we felt only a desire4 ,together they have laid an era in the tomb2 covering it with a pall that none may lift2 and1 as if to proclaim its death to the young generation1 the poetry of ,goethe has written its history1 while that of ,byron has graven its epitaph4 ,and now farewell to ,goethe2 farewell to ,byron6 farewell to the sorrows that crush but sanctify not--to the poetic flame that illumines but warms not--to the ironical philosophy that dissects without reconstructing--to all poetry which1 in an age where there is so much to do1 teaches us inactive contemplation2 or which1 in a world where there is so much need of devotedness1 would instil despair4 ,farewell to all types of power without an aim2 to all personifications of the solitary individuality which seeks an aim to find it not1 and knows not how to apply the life stirring within it2 to all egotistic joys and griefs3 ,bastards of the soul2 ,o'erweening slips of idleness3 weeds--no more- ,self-springing here and there from the rank soil2 ,o'erflowings of the lust of that same mind ,whose proper issue and determinate end1 ,when wedded to the love of things divine1 ,is peace1 complacency1 and happiness4 ,farewell1 a long farewell to the past6 ,the dawn of the future is announced to such as can read its signs1 and we owe ourselves wholly to it4 ,the duality of the ,middle ,ages1 after having struggled for centuries under the banners of emperor and pope2 after having left its trace and borne its fruit in every branch of intellectual development2 has reascended to heaven--its mission accomplished--in the twin flames of poesy called ,goethe and ,byron4 ,two hitherto distinct formulae of life became incarnate in these two men4 ,byron is isolated man1 representing only the internal aspect of life2 ,goethe isolated man1 representing only the external4 ,higher than these two incomplete existences2 at the point of intersection between the two aspirations towards a heaven they were unable to reach1 will be revealed the poetry of the future2 of humanity2 potent in new harmony1 unity1 and life4 ,but because1 in our own day1 we are beginning1 though vaguely1 to foresee this new social poetry1 which will soothe the suffering soul by teaching it to rise towards ,god through humanity2 because we now stand on the threshold of a new epoch1 which1 but for them1 we should not have reached2 shall we decry those who were unable to do more for us than cast their giant forms into the gulf that held us all doubting and dismayed on the other side8 ,from the earliest times has genius been made the scapegoat of the generations4 ,society has never lacked men who have contented themselves with reproaching the ,chattertons of their day with not being patterns of self-devotion1 instead of physical or moral suicides2 without ever asking themselves whether they had1 during their lifetime1 endeavored to place aught within the reach of such but doubt and destitution4 ,i feel the necessity of protesting earnestly against the reaction set on foot by certain thinkers against the mighty-souled1 which serves as a cloak for the cavilling spirit of mediocrity4 ,there is something hard1 repulsive1 and ungrateful in the destructive instinct which so often forgets what has been done by the great men who preceded us1 to demand of them merely an account of what more might have been done4 ,is the pillow of scepticism so soft to genius as to justify the conclusion that it is from egotism only that at times it rests its fevered brow thereon8 ,are we so free from the evil reflected in their verse as to have a right to condemn their memory8 ,that evil was not introduced into the world by them4 ,they saw it1 felt it1 respired it2 it was around1 about1 on every side of them1 and they were its greatest victims4 ,how could they avoid reproducing it in their works8 ,it is not by deposing ,goethe or ,byron that we shall destroy either sceptical or anarchical indifference amongst us4 ,it is by becoming believers and organizers ourselves4 ,if we are such1 we need fear nothing4 ,as is the public1 so will be the poet4 ,if we revere enthusiasm1 the fatherland1 and humanity2 if our hearts are pure1 and our souls steadfast and patient1 the genius inspired to interpret our aspirations1 and bear to heaven our ideas and our sufferings1 will not be wanting4 ,let these statues stand4 ,the noble monuments of feudal times create no desire to return to the days of selfdom4 ,but ,i shall be told1 there are imitators4 ,i know it too well2 but what lasting influence can be exerted on social life by those who have no real life of their own8 ,they will but flutter in the void1 so long as void there be4 ,on the day when the living shall arise to take the place of the dead1 they will vanish like ghosts at cock- crow4 ,shall we never be sufficiently firm in our own faith to dare to show fitting reverence for the grand typical figures of an anterior age8 ,it would be idle to speak of social art at all1 or of the comprehension of humanity1 if we could not raise altars to the new gods1 without overthrowing the old4 ,those only should dare to utter the sacred name of progress1 whose souls possess intelligence enough to comprehend the past1 and whose hearts possess sufficient poetic religion to reverence its greatness4 ,the temple of the true believer is not the chapel of a sect2 it is a vast ,pantheon1 in which the glorious images of ,goethe and ,byron will hold their honored place1 long after ,goetheism and ,byronism shall have ceased to be4 ,when1 purified alike from imitation and distrust1 men learn to pay righteous reverence to the mighty fallen1 ,i know not whether ,goethe will obtain more of their admiration as an artist1 but ,i am certain that ,byron will inspire them with more love1 both as man and poet--a love increased even by the fact of the great injustice hitherto shown to him4 ,while ,goethe held himself aloof from us1 and from the height of his ,olympian calm seemed to smile with disdain at our desires1 our struggles1 and our sufferings--,byron wandered through the world1 sad1 gloomy1 and unquiet2 wounded1 and bearing the arrow in the wound4 ,solitary and unfortunate in his infancy2 unfortunate in his first love1 and still more terribly so in his ill-advised marriage2 attacked and calumniated both in his acts and intentions without inquiry or defence2 harassed by pecuniary difficulties2 forced to quit his country1 home1 and child2 friendless--we have seen it too clearly since his death--pursued even on the ,continent by a thousand absurd and infamous falsehoods1 and by the cold malignity of a world that twisted even his sorrows into a crime2 he yet1 in the midst of inevitable reaction1 preserved his love for his sister and his ,ada2 his compassion for misfortune2 his fidelity to the affections of his childhood and youth1 from ,lord ,clare to his old servant ,murray1 and his nurse ,mary ,gray4 ,he was generous with his money to all whom he could help or serve1 from his literary friends down to the wretched libeller ,ashe4 ,though impelled by the temper of his genius1 by the period in which he lived1 and by that fatality of his mission to which ,i have alluded1 towards a poetic individualism1 the inevitable incompleteness of which ,i have endeavored to explain1 he by no means set it up as a standard4 ,that he presaged the future with the prevision of genius is proved by his definition of poetry in his journal--a definition hitherto misunderstood1 but yet the best ,i know3 ,poetry is the feeling of a former world and of a future4 ,poet as he was1 he preferred activity for good1 to all that his art could do4 ,surrounded by slaves and their oppressors2 a traveller in countries where even remembrance seemed extinct2 never did he desert the cause of the peoples2 never was he false to human sympathies4 ,a witness of the progress of the ,restoration1 and the triumph of the principles of the ,holy ,alliance1 he never swerved from his courageous opposition2 he preserved and publicly proclaimed his faith in the rights of the peoples and in the final ,footnote3 ,yet1 ,freedom6 yet1 thy banner torn1 but flying1 ,streams1 like the thunder-storm1 against the wind3 ,thy trumpet voice1 though broken now and dying1 ,the loudest still the tempest leaves behind4 ,the tree hath lost its blossomes1 and the rind1 ,chopped by the axe1 looks rough and little worth1 ,but the sap lasts--and still the seed we find ,sown deep1 even in the bosom of the ,north1 ,so shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth4 triumph of liberty4 ,the following passage from his journal is the very abstract of the law governing the efforts of the true party of progress at the present day3 ,onwards6 it is now the time to act2 and what signifies self1 if a single spark of that which would be worthy of the past ,footnote3 ,written in ,italy4 can be bequeathed unquenchably to the future8 ,it is not one man1 nor a million1 but the ,,spirit of liberty which must be spread4 ,the waves which dash on the shore are1 one by one1 broken2 but yet the ,,ocean conquers nevertheless4 ,it overwhelms the armada2 it wears the rock2 and if the ,neptunians are to be believed1 it has not only destroyed but made a world4 ,at ,naples1 in the ,romagna1 wherever he saw a spark of noble life stirring1 he was ready for any exertion2 or danger1 to blow it into a flame4 ,he stigmatized baseness1 hypocrisy1 and injustice1 whencesoever they sprang4 ,thus lived ,byron1 ceaselessly tempest-tossed between the ills of the present and his yearnings after the future2 often unequal2 sometimes sceptical2 but always suffering--often most so when he seemed to laugh2 ,footnote3 ,and if ,i laugh at any mortal thing1 ',tis that ,i may not weep4 and always loving1 even when he seemed to curse4 ,never did the eternal spirit of the chainless mind make a brighter apparition amongst us4 ,he seems at times a transformation of that immortal ,prometheus1 of whom he has written so nobly2 whose cry of agony1 yet of futurity1 sounded above the cradle of the ,european world2 and whose grand and mysterious form1 transfigured by time1 reappears from age to age1 between the entombment of one epoch and the accession of another2 to wail forth the lament of genius1 tortured by the presentment of things it will not see realized in its time4 ,byron1 too1 had the firm will and the deep sense2 he1 too1 made of his death a victory4 ,when he heard the cry of nationality and liberty burst forth in the land he had loved and sung in early youth1 he broke his harp and set forth4 ,while the ,,christian ,powers were protocolizing or worse--while the ,,christian nations were doling forth the alms of a few piles of ball in aid of the ,,cross struggling with the ,crescent2 he1 the poet1 and pretended sceptic1 hastened to throw his fortune1 his genius1 and his life at the feet of the first people that had arisen in the name of the nationality and liberty he loved4 ,i know no more beautiful symbol of the future destiny and mission of art than the death of ,byron in ,greece4 ,the holy alliance of poetry with the cause of the peoples2 the union--still so rare--of thought and action--which alone completes the human ,word1 and is destined to emancipate the world2 the grand solidarity of all nations in the conquest of the rights ordained by ,god for all his children1 and in the accomplishment of that mission for which alone such rights exist--all that is now the religion and the hope of the party of progress throughout ,europe1 is gloriously typified in this image1 which we1 barbarians that we are1 have already forgotten4 ,the day will come when democracy will remember all that it owes to ,byron4 ,england1 too1 will1 ,i hope1 one day remember the mission--so entirely ,english1 yet hitherto overlooked by her--which ,byron fulfilled on the ,continent2 the ,european role given by him to ,english literature1 and the appreciation and sympathy for ,england which he awakened amongst us4 ,before he came1 all that was known of ,english literature was the ,french translation of ,shakespeare1 and the anathema hurled by ,voltaire against the intoxicated barbarian4 ,it is since ,byron that we ,continentalists have learned to study ,shakespeare and other ,english writers4 ,from him dates the sympathy of all the true-hearted amongst us for this land of liberty1 whose true vocation he so worthily represented among the oppressed4 ,he led the genius of ,britain on a pilgrimage throughout all ,europe4 ,england will one day feel how ill it is--not for ,byron but for herself--that the foreigner who lands upon her shores should search in vain in that temple which should be her national ,pantheon1 for the poet beloved and admired by all the nations of ,europe1 and for whose death ,greece and ,italy wept as it had been that of the noblest of their own sons4 ,in these few pages--unfortunately very hasty--my aim has been1 not so much to criticise either ,goethe or ,byron1 for which both time and space are wanting1 as to suggest1 and if possible lead1 ,english criticism upon a broader1 more impartial1 and more useful path than the one generally followed4 ,certain travellers of the eleventh century relate that they saw at ,teneriffe a prodigiously lofty tree1 which1 from its immense extent of foliage1 collected all the vapors of the atmosphere2 to discharge them1 when its branches were shaken1 in a shower of pure and refreshing water4 ,genius is like this tree1 and the mission of criticism should be to shake the branches4 ,at the present day it more resembles a savage striving to hew down the noble tree to the roots4