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SELF-EDUCATION; 
 
 THE MEANS AND ART 
 
 MORAL PROGRESS 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 
 M. LE 
 
 BARON DEfelERANDO. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 CARTER AND HENDEE. 
 1832. 
 
Jj(?' 
 
 ip'^ 
 
 ^^v^ 
 
 %r 
 
 Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1832, by Carter & Hendee, in 
 the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 cambridoe: 
 e. w. metcalf and co. 
 
"" PREFACE. 
 
 The translator of Self-Education, in presenting the 
 second edition to the public, feels able to say that it is 
 more worthy of perusal than before, the translation 
 having been a good deal revised, and the numerous 
 misprints of the first edition, corrected. It is perhaps 
 due to the translator's own taste, however, to say, that 
 the peculiar, proverbial style of the original makes it 
 impossible to give it a flowing style in English. 
 
 It will be observed, that the few chapters, containing 
 the metaphysical views, which constituted the First Book 
 in the other edition, have been omitted in this. It is 
 intended to retranslate these, in a much more free man- 
 ner, and publish them separately, at some future time. 
 They were omitted, in this book, because it was found 
 that their metaphysical character created a prejudice in 
 the minds of many persons ; and thus cut off the class of 
 readers to whom the practical part would be most inter- 
 esting and useful. These chapters will be published in 
 such a form as to be adapted for the higher classes in 
 schools ; and will, of course, be accessible to any, whose 
 interest in the Author's metaphysical views may be 
 excited by an acquaintance with his beautiful ethics. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter. Page. 
 
 Introduction. 
 General Conditions of Moral Progress ... 1 
 
 PART I. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Employment of the Moral Powers. 
 
 I. How the Love of Excellence modifies Self-love . 9 
 
 II. Justice 16 
 
 III. How the Love of Excellence purifies the Affections 24 
 
 IV. Goodness of Heart ...... 33 
 
 V. Of False Sensibility . , 46 
 
 VI. Rectitude of Intention 53 
 
 VII. How the Love of Excellence may err . : . 61 
 
 SECTION IL 
 Fruits of Self-Government. 
 
 I. Power over Inclination 72 
 
 II. Limits and Moderation 80 
 
 III. Strength of Character ...... 90 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 IV. Independence and Obedience . . . * • 102 
 V. Right Direction of Activity 114 
 
 VI. Temper 123 
 
 VII. Errors in Self-Government 129 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 The Harmony between the Love of Excellence and Self- 
 Go vernment. 
 
 Chapter. Page. 
 
 I. Consistent Characters . . . . c .136 
 
 II. Greatness of Soul 141 
 
 III. Dignity of Character 148 
 
 IV. Inward Peace 156 
 
 V. How Moral contributes to Intellectual Progress . . 165 
 VI. How Man is led to Religion by the Developement of 
 
 the Moral Powers 179 
 
 PART XL 
 
 The Culture of the Moral Powers. 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Inward Discipline. 
 
 I. Simplicity . . 19J 
 
 II. Exercise and Habits 199 
 
 III. Cultivation of Sensibility 210 
 
 IV. Meditation, a Means of cultivating Sensibility . 225 
 V. Maxims and Rules 2.35 
 
 VI, Useof Allegories : Rewards and Punishments . 242 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Vll 
 
 VII. Tendency to Excellence 248 
 
 VIII. How to acquire and preserve Self-Government . 258 
 
 IX. Of the Difficulties we meet with in the Study of Self 267 
 
 X. The Advantages that may be drawn from our own Faults 274 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Discipline of External Circumstances. 
 
 Page. 
 
 284 
 
 Chapter. 
 
 I. Imitation and Example . * . . . 
 
 II. Friends and Enemies 293 
 
 III. Solitude and Society 301 
 
 IV. Plan of Life 312 
 
 V. Different Human Conditions .... 318 
 
 VI. Labor 233 
 
 Vn. Pleasure and Repose 339 
 
 VIII. Trials 346 
 
 IX. Progress in Different Periods of Life . . . 357 
 
 X. How Intellectual Progress conduces to Moral Progress 364 
 
 XI. Religion considered as the Accomplishment of Man's 
 
 Education . . . . . . . . 375 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 GENERAL CONDITIONS OF MORAL PROGRESS. 
 
 Man, placed on the confines of two worlds, the mate- 
 rial and moral, the transient and eternal, the visible and 
 invisible world, borrows from each and communicates with 
 both, being intermedial, and a bond between them ; and 
 this mixed condition partly explains the contrasts his na- 
 ture exhibits. In his relations with the external world he 
 is passive ; in his relations with the region of sentiment and 
 thought he is active ; in the one he receives ; in the other 
 he produces ; and the first order of relations serves as a 
 prelude for the second. Man, however, reacts upon the 
 material world by the operations of the arts, as afterwards 
 he submits himself voluntarily, in the moral world, to an 
 enlightened dependence, by accepting the laws which gov- 
 ern his nature. 
 
 We have said that man is connected with two worlds. 
 Through the senses, he takes possession of his terrestrial 
 abode ; the affections and the intellect are the portals which 
 give him access to the other ; where morality and reli- 
 gion await him, to render him at once happy and free, use- 
 ful to himself and to others. Thus our organization has a 
 direction towards perfection, each organ contributing its 
 share to the result, each delivering to the other what it has 
 progressively drawn forth; like a precious plant, whose roots 
 are in the soil, and whose sap is abundant, which raises 
 1 
 
"Z INTRODUCTION. 
 
 towards heaven its branches and foliage, unfolds odorife- 
 rous flowers, and is loaded with fruits that afford seeds of 
 a new future : or, like the general system of the laws of the 
 universe, in which the phenomena of the earth are in re- 
 lation with those of the heavens ; and in which the quali- 
 ties inherent to each substance, such as heat, light, motion, 
 and reproduction, are so combined, as to produce a general 
 and ever-renewed harmony. 
 
 To the five degrees of the ascending scale* correspond 
 five kinds of good, which are so many special ends, mark- 
 ing out for each order of faculties the destination which is 
 proper for it. The exercise of the senses has for its object 
 the preservation of the individual, which we may call per- 
 sonal good ; the affections identify personal good with the 
 happiness of others ; the intellect has truth for its end and 
 science for its treasure, which form an intellectual good ; 
 the moral faculties have duty for their end and virtue for 
 their treasure ; while religious worship puts man in posses- 
 sion of the future, and gives him an end beyond the limits 
 of his terrestrial existence, in his communion with Him who 
 is the source and beginning of all things. But none of 
 these different ends is exclusive ; no one remains isolated ; 
 each serves in its turn as a means and an instrument to all the 
 others ; they become more powerful in their turn, in propor- 
 tion as they themselves approach perfection, and that which 
 is the most elevated of all, is of all the most fruitful. The 
 simplicity and unity of this system are remarkable ; religion 
 sanctions, commands, and rewards virtue, which is the 
 means of personal good and general happiness, and alone 
 gives true value to the understanding, and brings it to per- 
 fection. 
 
 The perfection of all beings consists in the faithfulness 
 with which they conform themselves to their nature. The 
 
 * The senses, the affections, the intellect, and the moral and the reli- 
 gious faculties. 
 
GENERAL CONDITIONS OP MORAL PROGRESS. d 
 
 perfection of man, then, consists in his pursuing and attain- 
 ing the five kinds of good, which we have just mentioned, 
 according to the relations of subordination and harmony, 
 which exist between them ; for it is thus, as we have just 
 seen, that the different orders of his faculties will accomplish 
 their respective destinations. 
 
 Two essential conditions, therefore, serve as a basis to 
 our progress ; one is, that we should know how to find the 
 end which is best in itself; the other is, that we should be 
 capable of attaining it ; and these conditions suppose com- 
 plete liberty ;* that is, the liberty of choosing, and of acting 
 according to our choice. If, when exercising the will, we 
 do not consider what is best, this capricious exercise is the 
 abuse rather than the use of it. If, when aiming at the best, 
 we have not force of will to attain it, we are consumed in 
 vain desires, and our very sense of the excellence of the end 
 becomes our despair. But by this union of a two-fold condi- 
 tion, we join the merit of choice to that of effort ; the value 
 of the one being in the motive, that of the other in the in- 
 strument. 
 
 Hence we have two great moral powers, upon which 
 seems to depend our progress ; namely, the Love of Good, 
 and Self-government. In common language, the Love of 
 Good means zeal for the interests of humanity ; but we give 
 it its most extensive and general sense. In good, we com- 
 prehend all that is excellent in itself, as an end proposed 
 to the human will, (adopting the language of the sages of 
 antiquity ; ) and by love we understand that enlightened, 
 free, generous emotion of the soul, which is as entirely de- 
 voted as it is sincere ; and this principle therefore may per- 
 haps be better distinguished, if we call it the Love of Excel- 
 lence. 
 
 * Moral liberty means, (1.) the liberty with which man is endowed of 
 appreciating the comparative worth of the five kinds of good offered to 
 him through the five orders of his faculties; and (2.) the liberty of acting 
 accordingly, notwithstanding circumstances, 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 This devotion to excellence, this kind of consecration, by 
 which man gives up himself and all he possesses to the end, 
 which he has acknowledged as his destiny, is the true living 
 principle of humanity, the source of all the great and useful, 
 which it produces : it is the soul of heroism and the genius 
 of virtue. The essence of all our moral activity dwells in this. 
 It is an expansive force, indefinite and illimitable , a pro- 
 found, inward, insatiable passion of the soul, it is at the same 
 time delightful and peaceful, because it puts the soul into 
 its natural element, carries it into the midst of order, accom- 
 plishes all its wishes, and satisfies all the desires, which are 
 derived from itself. Happy and proud of what we have just 
 acquired, the joy we feel is not only a desire to acquire more^ 
 but a new power. 
 
 The only source of calm happiness and inward content, 
 is the consciousness of this Love of Excellence. The mod- 
 els of it are whatever, in great and generous characters, ex- 
 cites admiration, esteem, and emulation. Its fruits may be 
 found in all that diffuses abundant and lasting blessings over 
 the earth ; in all that acts without destroying; in all that 
 creates, multiplies, and ameliorates ; and its dignity, and the 
 heritage which awaits it, may be seen in our tendency to- 
 wards a superior nature, in our participation with it, and our 
 presentiments of the future. This devotion to excellence, 
 such as we conceive it, finds no aliment in the motives 
 which address the senses ; it only finds in them images, 
 signs, means of communication, and matter for sacrifices. 
 But though yet blind and unreflecting, it begins to exert it- 
 self and flourish in the region of the affections, where we 
 first go beyond personal good. Reason enlightens it in the 
 intellectual region ; while moral sentiment defines and justi- 
 fies it, and it acknowledges and embraces its true end. But 
 it is fully explained and satisfied in the religious sphere 
 only. The Love of Excellence subdues Self-Iove by purify- 
 ing the idea of self, and then adopting it. But it is always 
 at open w^r with gross, absolute, savage, exclusive personal 
 
efeNERAL CONDltlONS OP MORAL PROGRESS. 5 
 
 feeling, which it is its calling to struggle with, to conquer^ 
 and exterminate. It comprehends and mingles in itself the 
 reverence for Law, and the devotion of Love ; for it includes 
 the disinterested principle, which is common to both, and 
 which is equally necessary to obedience and zeal. If we 
 give to this devotion the name of Love^ it is because love 
 expresses the most perfect and most elevated obedience. 
 The Love of Excellence is, if we may so speak, animated 
 and active conscience ; it does not merely express its de- 
 sires ; it supposes approbation of the end we have chosen ; 
 but it is more than approbation, it is a just and holy enthu- 
 siasm for what is good ; it is the intense, persevering, and 
 ever-increasing thirst for the best. The characteristic of 
 the Love of Excellence is, to dilate, to aspire to the future, 
 to mount, and to be constantly progressive. Self-government, 
 on the other hand, is the lever by whose aid the inspirations 
 <of the Love of Excellence are accomplished; and man dispo- 
 ses of his organs, rules his affections, governs his ideas, and 
 commands his will itself; by turns exciting, moderating, di- 
 recting, repressing himself In a word, he reigns, his inclina- 
 tions being his subjects, and his faculties his ministers ; the 
 internal kingdom, over which he is appointed, awaiting the 
 action of his government, to receive order and peace. He 
 reigns, however, not without meeting resistance; but with 
 the mission and power of triumphing, not only by strength, 
 but by right. He not only acts on, but gives law to him- 
 self; he is not a tyrant, but a sovereign. 
 
 This last consideration demands our most serious attention ; 
 it explains the true character of Self-government. There 
 is Law for man, because there is a destination ; and this 
 Law is promulgated and proclaimed from within. This 
 Law, so deeply felt, is the due proportion of his faculties ; 
 a deposit, a guide, given to the moral being, to conduct 
 him to his end. As the child, the pupil, and the citizen 
 are so many deposits, trusted to parents, tutors, and magis- 
 trates ; as parents, tutors, and magistrates are charged to 
 1* 
 
O INTRODUCTION. 
 
 make known to them the laws of reason, and the presctip- 
 tions of society, for the greatest good of each and of all ; so 
 also man is a deposit, confided to his own care by Provi- 
 dence, owing protection to himself; and he is the interpre- 
 ter and organ of the anterior laws, which rule his nature. 
 We here find, as it were, two natures, united in one individu- 
 al, the one passive, the other active ; one feeble, because 
 ignorant ; the other powerful, because enlightened. Man is 
 his own property, because he must be his own guide. The 
 authority that he exercises over himself, is only that of 
 virtue, deriving from virtue dignity as well as legitimacy ; 
 and the right he has over himself is only the emanation of 
 his duty. Man exercises within himself a true and high 
 magistracy ; for he shows himself there as the delegate and 
 minister of God himself. 
 
 What are all those forms of ambition with which vanity 
 orments and leads us astray? What is that external and 
 apparent power, of which we are so jealous, whether we ap- 
 ply our physical strength to matter, or pretend to subdue 
 the wills of other men to the caprices of our own ? Its 
 character, its source, its fruits are nothing, if it does not go 
 back to the same principle, if it be not also a delegation of 
 virtue. This is the end to which all noble and just ambi- 
 tion ought to aspire, and to which all noble and just ambi- 
 tion can attain. When Augustus cries, " I am master of 
 myself as well as of the world," it certainly is not the master 
 of the world who is sublime, it is the master of himself, who 
 wished for, and was concious of, the only dignity of man. 
 If the condition of the former seems to raise the merit of the 
 latter in our eyes, it is because it renders the triumph of 
 the latter more heroic, because the mortal master of him- 
 self has subdued the master of the world. 
 
 Self-government begins in the intellect ; man governs 
 the operations of his mind ; he separates and combines his 
 ideas ; he places signs upon them ; he attracts or repels 
 them ; he obeys reason and acknowledges the law of evi- 
 
GENERAL CONDITIONS OF MORAL PROGRESS. 7 
 
 dence. But in morality, Self-government is explained and 
 finds its end ; because it acknowledges the law from which 
 it borrows all its rights, — that of duty. Religion conse- 
 crates Self-govei'nment, because it confounds it with the 
 most perfect obedience, and reveals its true origin. But 
 this internal dignity, thus instituted and confirmed, is trans- 
 mitted, as it were, by a secondary delegation, to the infe- 
 rior faculties ; and it ennobles while subduing them, be- 
 cause the service, to which it calls them, is legitimate, and, 
 by serving reason, they extend the dominion of which they 
 are the organs. Thus the senses, employed in the operations 
 of art, may subdue material nature to the empire of man ; 
 and the affections, regulated by wisdom, may become the 
 bond to unite him to all society ; and understanding and 
 imagination may create an ideal world through the fine arts, 
 and bring into the mind the whole universe, through the 
 discoveries of science. 
 
 These two great moral powers are not always developed to 
 the same degree ; and sometimes we may even be tempted 
 to think, that one increases at the expense of the other. 
 We too often see a high moral enthusiasm in a weak char- 
 acter, and ungenerous sentiments with an energetic will. 
 In the first case there is more contemplation than action ; 
 as in the second there is more motion than fruitfulness. Yet 
 these two powers are also associated by close consanguinity 
 of principle, and one is imperfect when abandoned by the 
 other. What is ardor for excellence, without the courage to 
 accomplish it ; and to what, if not to excellence, shall we 
 present the sacrifice of our inclinations ? A good action is 
 more meritorious the more efforts it costs ; and an energet- 
 ic resolution is more praiseworthy, the purer the motive 
 which inspires it. 
 
 Of these two great moral powers, the Love of Excellence 
 and Self-government, one assigns the true direction to our 
 faculties, the other gives them energy ; one belongs to the 
 springs of the will more especially, and the other to the ex- 
 
8 INTRODUCTION* 
 
 ercise of liberty ; one seems to contribute more to the gen- 
 tle, and the other to the strong virtues; one predominates 
 in qualities, which, like goodness of heart, have an eminently 
 social character ; the other in those of which the merit is 
 rather individual, as temperance and courage ; one was pre- 
 ferred in the school of Plato, the other at the Portico. It 
 was reserved for Christianity to associate them closely ; to 
 confer upon them equal energy ; and to give heroes to the 
 Love of Excellence. 
 
 The three principles which preside over the constitution 
 iDfour nature are Self-love, Law,* and Love. Self-love is 
 purified and enlightened by its alliance with the two others ; 
 and thus Law and Love, both including a disinterested char- 
 acter, govern the system of our moral faculties. Of these 
 three principles, the two last correspond also to the powers 
 whose action is to develope this system ; Law serves as a 
 regulator to Self-government, as Love is the inspiration to 
 the Love of Excellence. 
 
 It is in the action and culture of these two powers, that 
 we must seek the secrets of the great art of our moral per- 
 fection. The different degrees, which constitute the proper 
 •exercise of the five orders of faculties, which we have dis- 
 tinguished, are the general frame of the work. The Love 
 of Excellence and Self-government will serve to fill it. In 
 placing ourselves in the two points of view, which they offer 
 to our meditations, we shall see presented, according to 
 their relations of subordination and analogy, the different 
 means, which concur in self-education. 
 
 * Law means the authority of truth over the intellect, and of good 
 over the conscifence. 
 
SELF-EDUCATION, 
 
 EMPLOYMENT OF THE MORAL POWERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MODIFIES SELF-LOVE. 
 
 In considering man in relation to himself and to his fellow- 
 beings, five truths are brought to our view. 
 
 1. The just feeling of our rights is acquired by the feel- 
 ing of our duties. 
 
 2. The feeling of duty is the light which guides us to the 
 knowledge of our true interests. 
 
 3. We could not accomplish faithfully what is strictly re- 
 quired of us, were we not animated with that desire of the 
 best, which renders us capable of doing more than is requir- 
 ed. 
 
 4. The finest dispositions of nature go astray, and the best 
 qualities of character degenerate, if not guided by the Love, 
 of Excellence, which is their inspiration. 
 
 5. The Love of Excellence is the only principle which 
 can carry on the work, and accomplish the best designs of 
 nature. 
 
 We are led to these truths, by investigating the source of 
 individual rights, and following the course of social relations :■ 
 at every step, the Love of Excellence appears as the guardd* 
 
 ; an of humanity and its creative genius. 
 
 i The Love of Excellence and Self-love may seem, set first. 
 view, contradictory principles ; the latter is eager to eaarioh 
 
10 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 itself, and consequently is inclined to take from others ; the 
 former would acquit its sense of obligation even by dispos- 
 sessing itself The differing errors of certain philosophers 
 have arisen, from this apparent contradiction in the govern- 
 ing principles of human nature. Some have thought that 
 the principle of all human determinations might be traced 
 up to self-interest ; others have believed that duty requires 
 an entire immolation of individual being to the ideal of per- 
 fection. And these erroneous speculations, put into prac- 
 tice, have given rise either to the errors of selfishness, or to. 
 the exaggerations of that zeal, which misses the end by 
 springing beyond it. The truth is, that the Love of Excel- 
 lence does not tend to destroy Self-love ; it only would en^ 
 lighten it, and turn it towards accomplishing the true desti- 
 ny of man. 
 
 We appear to ourselves under a new aspect, in the light 
 of duty. Moral sentiment reveals to us, that Providence 
 has committed to the care of each of us a sacred deposit ; 
 but though we cease to be our own slaves, we do not conse- 
 quently become uninterested in ourselves, much less our 
 own enemies. Virtue sanctions, directs, and limits Self- 
 love ; giving it motives through the sense of obligation and 
 the principle of reflection ; raising and associating us with 
 our Creator, in his designs and solicitude for his noblest 
 work ; in short, it is the guide and protector of man, giving 
 him these four important duties, his own preservation, his own 
 happiness, his own dignity, his own improvement ; and sup- 
 plying him also with assistance to discharge these duties. 
 
 Self-interest alone would not even gain the end of self- 
 preservation. For, guided by this principle, we should 
 make two kinds of mistake ; either, under the weight 
 of misfortune, the interest of self-preservation would be 
 lost by life's offering only a compound of good and evil ; 
 or, if the balance seemed turned, we should justify ourselves 
 in the violent resolutions of despair, and lose all the calcu- 
 lations of prudence : or, on the other hand, it would counsel 
 
LOVE OP EXCELLENCE. 11 
 
 the cowardliness of indifference, even in the presence of a 
 general interest, which commands us to brave danger. But 
 virtue puts a barrier on the border of the abyss ; or removes 
 the obstacle, which prevents us from flying to the relief of 
 others : for she discovers in life a value beyond that of mere 
 personal good, and superior to it, which will not be sacrificed 
 for merely personal considerations. The true value of life 
 arises from our power of being useful ; and virtue prevents 
 us from sacrificing, even to the preservation of life, this 
 end, for which life was given. Thus far all is harmony ; for 
 there is no situation, in which a man, however weighed down 
 by personal misfortune, may not be useful, even if he does 
 nothing more than teach how misfortune may be supported. 
 Besides, who could flatter himself, that he had preserved, in 
 the anguish of grief, a sufficiently calm judgment to calcu- 
 late the chances for the future, or the best means for his 
 personal interest? From the illusions into which the in- 
 stinct of self-preservation would lead us, virtue protects us, 
 — more than supplying the place of prudence ; do ng also, 
 through its loftier foresight, the work of that instinct, which 
 interest seemed to compromise, for we obtain new securities, 
 and more abundant aid, all unawares to ourselves, even 
 through the exposure of ourselves for the common good. For 
 there is always risk, whether we act or not, and whatever 
 we do, when Self-love only is in play ; but virtue creates a 
 kind of good, to which there is no risk in attaching our- 
 selves, not even that of error, for, in the eyes of virtue, error 
 is lost in the intention that springs from perfect rectitude. 
 Self-interest could still less lead us to happiness, or even 
 define it, as is evident from the ever-changing and always 
 incomplete definitions, that the selfish give to it, (who al- 
 ways end in pronouncing it a chimera.) But this is because 
 happiness does not dwell where self-interest seeks it, in the 
 mere enjoyment of pleasure ; for whatever may be the vivid- 
 ness or duration of pleasure, happiness rests upon v/ider and 
 more difficult conditions, upon a harmony of enjoyments 
 
SI SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 among themselves, or with our wants, or with the laws of 
 our faculties, or with the capacity we have for relishing it, or 
 with recollections of the past and prospects of the future. 
 Happiness, in short, is a profound economy, that self-interest, 
 in its impatient avidity, cannot combine ; but virtue gives the 
 plan beforehand, putting every thing in place, preserving 
 -^very thing in its limits, and producing the equilibrium, 
 whence personal good flows. The best counsels of self-in- 
 terest are only those of experience, which come too late and 
 -are too dearly paid for. It is true, there are some philo- 
 sophical speculations in common practice : but the instru- 
 ment, by whose aid those learned calculations can be appli- 
 ed to human life; the measure, which may set limits to 
 immediate good and evil, and give a just value to that 
 which is lost in the distance ; and the power of reasoning 
 with sufficient accuracy, to prevent the illusions of hope and 
 fear, can be obtained from virtue alone, which gives the 
 limits and measure, and guides the reason. It has, as it 
 were, preexisting formulas, which, by assigning rules for our 
 conduct, secure our happiness from delusions of the imagi- 
 nation and errors of judgment. It has also an influence of 
 calmness and serenity, which serves to prevent these errors, 
 and helps to dissipate them. 
 
 Self-interest watches over the interest of our individual 
 pride ; but this pride is rather a desire of esteem, than an ac- 
 quired right to esteem. The support which self-interest 
 takes to maintain itself in the rank which it desires to oc- 
 cupy, does not entirely belong to it. But morality brings 
 to light authentic titles, those of human nature itself, in 
 which we all participate ; they are those which we derive 
 from our noble origin, and which confer on us an imposing 
 vocation ; for our rank upon earth is elevated by virtue to 
 the sacred dignity of probation. Virtue also teaches us the 
 most direct way to obtain esteem, by teaching us to deserve 
 it ; and authorizes us to judge opinion when we are calum- 
 niated by it, and to repel injustice by contempt. She in- 
 
LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 13 
 
 spires us with more than love for ourselves, — with self- 
 respect; for in the midst of all the imperfections of our na- 
 ture, even through the deformities by which vice or error 
 disfigures man, she makes us discover the primitive traits 
 which were impressed upon our nature by Supreme Wis- 
 dom, and helps us to renew this celestial impress. She 
 gives to each of us a kind of public character, by calling 
 upon us to live for society ; and invests us with that true 
 dignity, which consists in serving the general interest. Fi- 
 nally, self-interest only calls us to the cultivation of our 
 faculties by a mercenary motive, that of being more skilful 
 in the art of satisfying our individual wants ; and how proud 
 we grow from this skilfulness, and the success consequent 
 upon it ! The value of this kind of cultivation is the same 
 to us as that of gold and power : perhaps the value is less, for 
 gold and power are still more easily employed by those who 
 possess them. But, in the eyes of virtue, the treasures which 
 are placed within ourselves, have a much greater value : 
 another interest excites us to improve them ; for how much 
 more vast are the consequences we may expect from our 
 own improvement, when we consider the influence that we 
 exert over the happiness of others; when, in cultivating our 
 faculties, we know that we cultivate a germ sown by the 
 Supreme Hand, and which is to be developed in all future 
 time ! Our success in this double design depends much 
 more upon our own resources, than upon those we borrow 
 from external circumstances ; it is by inward power that we 
 reap advantage from circumstances. Let us take care not 
 to lavish, wantonly, the accusation of selfishness, upon 
 those moral doctrines, which recommend self-protection to 
 man, although they should contain some theoretical error 
 upon the principle of obligation ; especially, if Self-love, 
 thus introduced into practice, has the characteristic it ought 
 to receive from virtue. To proscribe a lawful Self-love, 
 would be to give the lie to nature, and to put aside the de- 
 signs of its Author, who wills that Self-love sh.ould be inter- 
 2 
 
14 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 ested in the accomplishment of his law, and that the accom- 
 plishment of his law should be an immense blessing. But 
 let us guard ourselves from concentrating in the single in- 
 terest of Self-love, how well soever it may appear to be un- 
 derstood, all the motives, which lead us to excellence; for 
 then we should break that alliance with a purer principle, 
 from which it gains all its advantages. 
 
 The self of selfishness, and the self which virtue takes 
 care of, are not the same ; the former is an idol, to which 
 we offer incense ; we know the latter is blind, and we give 
 it a guide. The first is an absolute end, to which every 
 thing is referred ; the second is an instrument, whose merit 
 consists in the usefulness of its services. Intercourse with 
 the first is restless, -full of demands and caprices, as barren 
 for the heart as for the mind : intercourse with the second 
 has charms and nobleness, because virtue diffuses over it its 
 own excellence. The first is impoverished because it is 
 solitary ; the second is enriched by all the alliances it con- 
 tracts. 
 
 Since man has duties to fulfil towards himself, it follows, 
 that he has rights over the things proper and necessary for 
 their accomplishment. These are correlative terms in the 
 general plan. The means of execution are destined for 
 man, as he is destined to the end, which is marked out for 
 him. Thus, from the duty of self-preservation arises the 
 right of lawful defence ; from the duty which prescribes 
 care of his own happiness, arises the right of employing for 
 it the objects which are at his disposal, that is, not merely 
 those, the employment of which is possible, but those also 
 which are not already occupied by another's right ; from 
 the duty, which commands him to preserve the dignity of 
 his nature, arises the right of making his independence and 
 reputation respected ; finally, from the duty, which obliges 
 him to labor for his own improvement, arises the right that 
 he has to regulate his faculties, his right to truth, and the 
 other means of progress. Property itself is derived, either 
 
LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 15 
 
 from the right of the first occupant, or from the right, which 
 labor gives over its own productions, or from a transmission, 
 which goes back to one of those two sources. Now the 
 right of the first occupant, is only the consequence of that 
 which an individual has to appropriate to his personal com- 
 fort whatever has not become the property of another ; and 
 the right arising from labor is but the consequence of that 
 which an individual possesses over his own powers, of which 
 labor is the application. 
 
 Considered under this point of view, and as the conse- 
 quences of duties, rights will doubtless be exercised with 
 more moderation, but they also will become more sacred. It 
 will be easier to distinguish when they should be rigorously 
 claimed, and when they are simply lawful ; for it will be 
 sufficient to examine, whether the duty to which they are 
 referred is absolute, and they constitute the only and indis- 
 pensable means of fulfilling it. Thus we shall understand 
 on what occasions we can give up our rights, and how it 
 can even become praiseworthy to give up our apparent 
 rights ; for instance, when the means destined for the ac- 
 complishment of duty turn against the end to which the 
 duty is directed, or may be directly applied to this same end 
 without producing personal enjoyment at the moment. Thus, 
 and especially, we shall learn to distinguish rights from pre- 
 tensions ; thus, by knowing our own rights, we shall learn 
 to know better the rights of others. Were the individual 
 alone upon earth, his rights would have no limits but those 
 of his duties towards God and himself. But placed in the 
 midst of society, and of a society already formed, his con- 
 dition changes ; yet the same regulator may preside over 
 his destiny. 
 
16 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JUSTICE. 
 
 All trouble and disorder in society arise from the confu- 
 sion that exists between rights and interests ; that is to say, 
 from the voluntary or involuntary mistake we make when 
 we pretend to exercise a right, while we merely pursue an 
 interest. Legislators and governments have frequently made 
 this mistake, and hence have come oppressive laws and un- 
 just decisions. Rights and interests can be easily discrimi- 
 nated : the former are limited, the latter clash ; the former, 
 by being limited, are balanced and harmonized ; the latter, 
 being unlimited in their nature and confined in their field 
 of exercise, must encroach on the rights of others, to satisfy 
 their own avidity. Now justice is a general interest, though 
 general interest is not justice ; since the interest of the few 
 must be sacrificed to that of the many, though the rights 
 of the most obscure individual may not be sacrificed to the 
 general interest. 
 
 Personal and individual rights are equal; for each of 
 them springs from the primitive right every one has over 
 himself Rights over things, arising from labor or original 
 possession, have the same source as personal rights, 
 though not the same extent : these rights include what we 
 have lawfully acquired. Moreover, the respect due from 
 each one to the rights of others, arises from the same prin- 
 ciple as that which imposes duties on ourselves : the will of 
 nature, the supreme law of Providence, calls upon all men 
 to move on to their common destination in their respective 
 spheres. The liberty granted to individual interests, is va- 
 rious, and vastly disproportionate ; but interests do not 
 merely aspire to equality, but to dominion ; and it is the 
 tendency of each to monopolize. 
 
JUSTICE. 17 
 
 • General order is preserved by a balance of rights, and by 
 inequality of conditions. The justice which surrounds men 
 with an equal safeguard, also protects this inequality of con- 
 ditions against ail pretension not founded upon labor and 
 services. 
 
 We can easily see the danger of systems, which, found- 
 ing rights upon interests, would make the first commensu- 
 rate with the second. We see also why the most celebrat- 
 ed advocate * of a system of this kind was obliged to sup- 
 pose, that the primitive and natural state of society was war, 
 and consequently to seek a remedy for injustice as noxious 
 as the evil itself. Not finding it in morality, he sought it 
 in tyranny. Oppression will always spring from such a 
 principle, but harmony never. Harmony cannot be estab- 
 lished unless we acknowledge the supremacy of rights, and 
 consequently are ready to make a sacrifice of interests ; 
 whence it follows, that there is necessarily an element of 
 generosity in justice. There would not be any real rights 
 without this subordination ; for men, with the notion of right, 
 have a feeling of duty, which commands them to respect 
 it : these are correlative. The notion of right does not 
 govern, like ambition, through violence. Rights are lim- 
 ited, and consequently defined, by the principle of duty. 
 
 So long as interests and rights harmonize, society is free 
 from danger; the moment they clash, it is in peril. Laws 
 and magistrates take the utmost care to keep them united ; 
 but their efforts generally avail little. The sentiment of 
 duty completes the work of laws and magistrates, and might 
 supply their place, were it but armed like them with the 
 power of the sword ; the sacrifices which justice requires, 
 spring from that generosity, which is happily an element of 
 its essence. 
 
 It is by the concurrence of generosity, that justice is pla- 
 ced in the rank of the virtues, becoming meritorious, hon- 
 orable, and estimable. The degree of its merit is propor- 
 
 • Hobbes. 
 
18 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 tioned to the extent of the devotedness which this generosity 
 inspires, and to the depth and energy of the sentiment, which 
 makes duty dear for its own sake. He who merely sacrifi- 
 ces to fear, though he may pursue the same conduct, does 
 not sacrifice, but calculate ; he is not just, but a coward. 
 We do not call a man just, who refrains from injuring when 
 he finds no advantage in it. In this case, we are all just, 
 without thinking of it ; virtuous, without effort ; good, every 
 moment in the day, and even during our sleep. Justice 
 must be difficult, in order to become a virtue ; and, as it is 
 difficult in proportion as a man's neighbour possesses what 
 he wants, a just man's merit is increased by poverty ; and 
 thus justice takes the character of virtue in those who are 
 least favored by fortune, a class, which includes the largest 
 portion of society. When an obscure street-porter finds a 
 treasure, whose proprietor is unknown, and he can take it 
 without being discovered, and yet seeks the owner and con- 
 tinues poor of his own accord, he is only just ; — but what 
 greatness there is in this justice ! This is an admirable 
 economy of morality, by which those who are least favored 
 by fortune, yet are the strongest in numbers, are bound, not 
 with servile bonds, but by a chain which elevates while it 
 checks them, and, in the very restraint that it imposes upon 
 the lower classes, becomes an honorable distinction. What 
 would become of us, if morality did not thus interpose be- 
 tween the small number of the wealthy and the crowd of 
 the indigent ? How do the rich repose in peace, and the 
 poor rest satisfied with the hard labor which obtains so 
 small a recompense 1 Oh ! is it not, because morality is 
 most powerful and universal 1 Is it not, because there is 
 more real virtue in the world than we in our thoughtlessness 
 suspect 1 But virtue, if it merely preserves order, is little 
 noticed ; crime is striking because it disturbs natural and 
 general harmony ; it is known, it is talked about, and pub- 
 lished, because it is off*ensive. The historian recapitulates 
 its deeds as he preserves the remembrance of the plagues 
 
JUSTICE. 19 
 
 that ravage the earth, thus calumniating the race he pro- 
 fesses to describe. 
 
 Sometimes vanity and passion excite men to give, as they 
 excite them to usurp, or prevent them from making restitu- 
 tion ; and hence there may be more disinterestedness in 
 simple justice, than in liberality itself. 
 
 But this is not all : in judging the human heart, we dis- 
 cover, that a constant faithfulness to the duty of justice re- 
 quires something more than the feeling of this duty alone. 
 The formulas of justice are clear, precise, and strict; but 
 it is impossible that motives should adapt themselves to these 
 precise distinctions with perfect exactness ; and he who 
 wrould confine himself to desiring merely what is allowable 
 could not always succeed in accomplishing his wish. A 
 superabundance of sentiment is required, to fill the exact 
 measure of duty. Wealth of heart, is necessary, to procure 
 a competency of integrity. We cannot fully enter into the 
 conception of what is just, without putting ourselves, in im- 
 agination, completely in the situation of another, so as to 
 perceive how he would see and feel, and thus understand 
 what should be done for him, as if it were to be done for 
 ourselves ; but this identification of ourselves with others 
 supposes a commencement, at least, of benevolence : \ve 
 cannot be just, without loving in a degree. 
 
 But why is it, that, when all render unanimous homage 
 to the rules of justice, expressed in abstract and general 
 formulas, we so easily dispense with their application ? 
 Why do we never commit mistakes to our disadvantage ? 
 Is it not because we do precisely contrary to what has just 
 been said 1 instead of learning to live in others, we are con- 
 centrated in ourselves ; what wounds our fellow-being, es- 
 capes our attention, or seems unimportant to us ; what 
 wounds ourselves, is magnified in our eyes by all the pre- 
 ference we feel for self We see but one side of the ques- 
 tion, — that which is before us; the demands of self-interest 
 become so imperious, that, uncionsciously perhaps, we regard 
 
20 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 them as a peremptory law for every thing that relates to us ; 
 being slaves to our inclinations, we wish to escape from the 
 disgrace of servitude, by justifying it ; we desire to enjoy 
 with more security, and, that we may attain our end, we 
 would like to envelope our selfishness in the mantle of jus- 
 tice ; yet such is the real character of justice, that it must 
 be constant and uniform towards every one. A single 
 crime is sufficient to sully the whole course of life. 
 
 Nothing, at first, appears more conformable to justice 
 than the right of revenge ; it reestablishes the equality, 
 which a usurpation of rights had encroached upon ; and 
 this is partly the reason why the law of retaliation was the 
 first criminal code of nations. But the sentiment of benev- 
 olence, the law of love, has corrected this cruel error, and 
 taught a truer justice, revealing to us, even in him who 
 oflfends us, a brother, who has a claim upon our regard 
 notwithstanding his offence : making us understand, that, 
 although the barrier which protected our own rights is 
 broken, that which protects the rights of others remains ; 
 that the right of defending ourselves is not that of destroy- 
 ing, and that social equality is not a struggle of hatred. 
 The notion of right, enlightened by the sentiment of duty, 
 teaches us, that, in the transgression, of which we are the 
 victims, is comprised a crime towards society, of which we 
 are but the members ; and that by taking upon ourselves to 
 punish, we usurp the function of judges. 
 
 There is an odious prejudice favored by party animosity 
 and national hate, that passion authorizes every thing 
 against an enemy. But does virtue permit us to call one of 
 our fellow-creatures an enemy ? The progress of social 
 institutions must be conformable to the moral progress of 
 individuals : by reserving to the sword of the law the sup- 
 pression of crime, each one is permitted to observe the 
 counsels of virtue in peace. 
 
 Beside what is strictly duti/, there are some things not 
 determined by precise rules, but which are nevertheless pre- j 
 
JUSTICE. 21 
 
 scribed by delicacy. Here, definitions fail, and moral senti- 
 ment must enlighten us. What precepts cannot provide for, 
 will be inspired by that instinct of a virtuous heart, which 
 is surer than all precepts. Delicacy is the flower of justice; 
 it evinces the life and fertility of the plant ; and when it 
 withers, it is because the sap has begun to dry up. Deli- 
 <;acy is justice in little things ; it therefore supposes, that 
 our pure love for what is just will give us discrimination, 
 and raise little things, by making them the occasions of vir- 
 tue. Delicacy acquires peculiar merit from the nicety of 
 discrimination which it supposes, and it is pure in propor- 
 tion as it has no other witness than itself 
 
 Independently of the outward integrity, which respects 
 the rights established over material things, and which is 
 merely the outside of justice, there is another kind of hon- 
 esty, less known and more difficult ; — that which respects 
 the dignity of others, and their happiness; these are bles- 
 sings, which do not strike the eye, but which, on this ac- 
 count, are more real and precious. Here, where civil law 
 ceases, the power of virtue is displayed ; and here justice 
 has fewer securities than ever, if it be not supported by 
 benevolence. You do not encroach upon another's patri- 
 mony. You do well ; but do you never cast a blemish 
 upon the reputation he enjoys ? Do you never disturb his 
 affections 1 Do you never wound his heart with the arrows 
 of envy and hatred ? Then only can you call yourself just. 
 JBut you may ask, how can we foresee the many ways, ia 
 which we may trouble our brother ? There is but one way ; 
 |we must love him sincerely : thus we must know how ta 
 jlove, if we would be perfectly just. 
 
 \ Gratitude is also a link between justice and love. It dis- 
 charges, by means of the affections, those debts, which the 
 [affections alone can discharge, and which are so much the 
 more sacred for this reason. Gratitude never springs up in 
 the soil of selfishness ; for self-interest, in its eagerness to 
 'appropriate, is unable to understand the impulse af gene- 
 
"22 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Tosity, or to measure the true value of the gift. And, when 
 we do understand it, we must love much, to be willing to 
 accept : we refuse, when we love but little. Gratitude is the 
 justice of the heart. 
 
 We have said that a balance of interests does not consti- 
 tute justice. But there is a kind of balance of interests 
 which is the aim of the equitable ; he who gives, will give 
 equally to those who have the same wants, provided they 
 also have the same claims; proportioning his gifia to wants 
 and claims. Benevolence, impartial benevolence, is also 
 exercised according to the degrees of merit. Thus benevo- 
 lence is justice in the form of liberality, as gratitude is be- 
 nevolence in the form of justice. 
 
 Finally, we are not merely comm.anded to see that justice 
 is done to ourselves, but we must see that it is done to oth- 
 ers ; we must be interested in its cause, although personally 
 uninterested in its results ; and sympathize deeply with the 
 reprobation it pronounces against those who violate its 
 laws ; and, more than this, if society itself does not take 
 care to maintain rights, it is our duty to defend them, and 
 protect oppressed innocence. Then justice shines in its 
 peculiar glory ; for then it is eminently generous : no longer 
 bearing the character of a mere prudence which forbids us 
 to injure, but commanding us to assist ; it is animated and 
 instinct with life. It stamped the heroic ages with an im- 
 pr^ess of glory. In the infancy of society, this commission, 
 given to courage by morality, supplied the place of codes, 
 and of civil authority. For the same reason the commis- 
 sion is revived in times of trouble and disorder ; consoling 
 human nature by creating illustrious private virtues, in the 
 midst of public calamities. In proportion as society is re- 
 formed or restored, this duty, once laid upon all the good, 
 progressively concentrates in magistrates ; and hence the 
 majesty and holiness of their office. Magistrates are the 
 representatives and organs of public virtue ; their authority 
 is but a sacred duty ; they carry in their hands the holy 
 
JUSTICE. 23 
 
 cup, which contains the greatest blessing of society, secu- 
 rity and peace ; and justice becomes in their persons an ac- 
 tive, energetic, untiring power. But it will only acknowl- 
 edge him as its minister who imbibes its spirit, and who is 
 generous as well as severe. It will not place its rights in 
 impure hands. It will even impose silence upon the most 
 lawful affections of his heart ; for private affections would 
 endanger that impartiality, which must protect equal rights. 
 It req;.lr,o much of him personally ; sometimes to be inac- 
 cessible even to pity. 
 
 As the civil authority is the delegate of public justice, so 
 thji political authority directs social equity, by distributing 
 the benefit which society designs for its members. It should 
 be no respecter of persons, or rather its liberality should be 
 particularly bestowed upon those who need it most ; but to 
 the virtues of the magistrate the administrator should join 
 that ardent zeal, that eager solicitude, which anticipates 
 wants, and multiplies and prepares means of relief. The 
 magistrate preserves, but it is for the administrator to cre- 
 ate ; and the Love of Excellence should be the genius which 
 inspires his creations. 
 
 The private life of the magistrate and administrator, i& 
 the pledge of their fidelity in the exercise of their important 
 offices. Private virtues add to the salutary effect of the de- 
 crees of the one, and of the deeds of the other. It is not 
 enough that the forms of justice and equity are observed ;. 
 the sentiment ought to be propagated in all hearts ; these 
 words should excite faith, whenever they are heard. The 
 organs of public power, should therefore find their means of 
 success in the reputation they enjoy, and in the confidence 
 they inspire. They should do more than repress or regulate 
 individual actions, — they should anticipate them, and provide 
 for them beforehand ; and, as worthy interpreters of good laws, 
 it is theirs to lay the foundations of a sound public morality.* 
 
 * We may imprison him who injures us ; but when an enemy is de- 
 fenceless, he disarms our resistance, and his inferiority recommends hiia 
 
24 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE PURIFIES THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 What is it to love? Can the heart that does not know 
 virtue, know how to love truly 1 Does that attraction, which 
 we feel towards the objects of our affections, deserve the 
 name of love, if we are not attached to the good which is in 
 them? 
 
 Love includes a mysterious sense, which corresponds to 
 all that is most excellent in our nature. The love of our 
 fellow-men is essentially moral ; it is an overflowing and 
 delicate sentiment, almost self-forgetfulness ; an ardent de- 
 sire for the happiness of others, a wish to sacrifice ourselves 
 without restriction or reserve, to conceal sacrifice by sacri- 
 ficing, and to deprive ourselves even of gratitude. It is im- 
 possible for love to arise, and be fully developed, in a soul 
 unacquainted with morality. The sages of antiquity, struck 
 with the universal power of love, but still more with the 
 perfection of its pi-inciple, sought an origin for it beyond 
 our nature, and assigned to it a divine character ; thus fore- 
 seeing a truth, which Christianity has fully brought to light. 
 A heart filled with the love of man, feels, at the sight of 
 whatever is excellent, an emotion like that which the sweet 
 remembrances of infancy cause ; or like a traveller at the 
 sight of his native land. 
 
 to our regard. Nothing then authorizes the odious oppression of slavery : 
 — and especially, nothing authorizes it toward those whom we have no 
 pretence for considering our enemies. — How can a man become the 
 property of another man ? The right of property results from natural 
 equality alone : it is the consequence of reciprocal independence, and of 
 the primitive right which the Creator has given to each one over himself. 
 He, then, who would refuse such a right to his fellow-being, would deny 
 his own rights in their principle. There is no lawful or possible prop- 
 erty over an individual, because every individual is his own property, — 
 and this, before there were any other things. 
 
LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 25 
 
 Love is a kind of union between natural affection and 
 virtue. In this noble union, virtue brings as a dowry its 
 own elevation, stability, and light ; its treasures and its 
 charms. It delivers natural affection from agitating anxie- 
 ties, and injurious exactions ; communicates to it a singu- 
 lar frankness and fulness, an exquisite suavity; raises it to 
 all the dignity of reason ; and, by animating it with the 
 liberty which quickens itself, associates our affections with 
 merit. 
 
 Natural inclinations are unsteady, because they are blind; 
 and are dissipated with the illusions which excited and 
 cherished them ; they are enfeebled and exhausted by pos- 
 session, and disenchanted by habit. But Virtue, ever 
 young, renews them incessantly, renders them constant as 
 truth, holy as wisdom, and places round them an immuta- 
 ble guard. While appearing to moderate their transports, 
 it preserves the secret fire of their energy ; by a provident 
 economy, it restrains them, so as to make them more last- 
 ing, and refuses them only what would expose them to the 
 bitterness of regret, and to mistakes, which are the conse- 
 quences of error. There is almost always a secret self-inter- 
 est in simple natural affection ; and hence the restless jeal- 
 ousy, which is alarmed at rival affections, because it wishes 
 to possess alone ; which regards as infidelity, every thing 
 which is granted to others ; which always doubts, because 
 there is no security for the monopoly to which it pretends. 
 In virtuous love, on the contrary, entirely forgetting our- 
 selves, we only exist in the beloved object, enjoying what 
 we see him acquire, congratulating ourselves in the tri- 
 umphs and affections he obtains, because they are just ; 
 while the self-approval which accompanies us gives us an en- 
 tire security. Instinctive inclination consumes itself in agi- 
 tation, while true love is nourished and rendered calm by 
 exercise. The former has its tortures, which often make 
 the sensibility of the heart the poison of human life ; the 
 3 
 
26 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 latter has celestial joys, which calm all fear, and make us 
 forget all trouble. 
 
 Self-interest arms instinctive inclinations with envy, 
 hatred, and injustice, towards every thing which is foreign 
 to their objects ; enriching the beloved, rather with the 
 spoils of others than with its own gifts. Hence, the hostile 
 dispositions, which are often found connected with warm 
 affections, corrupt the character. But true love has no 
 need of refusing to other men the affection which it grants 
 to the privileged person ; for it draws from a source which 
 cannot be exhausted. Its benevolence has all the calmness 
 and security of the principle which is its life ; it does not 
 wage war without ; it is nourished by all the affections, 
 which, derived from the same origin, preserve the same 
 character. Just in its preferences, it is also just towards 
 those who are strangers to this preference ; for it is not an 
 exclusion, but a choice. Inclination shuts itself up in a 
 limited circle ; love spreads itself abroad ; inclination is 
 associated with the passions ; love is the companion of duty. 
 
 The offerings of inclination are not sufficiently abundant 
 and elevated to satisfy love, which would give without ceas- 
 ing. It is true, that the transitory gifts of earth are rarely 
 in the power of love, and can be conferred but once; but 
 virtue yields treasures of an' infinite value, which can be 
 diffused perpetually ; viz. consolation, counsel, and exam- 
 ple. The noblest gift which a man can offer to another, is 
 confidence ; and this receives its value from virtue alone. 
 Can the heart, which virtue does not animate, open itself 
 with entire unreserve ? How can we reveal ourselves to 
 another, when we dare not do so to ourselves. 
 
 When poets have desired to paint the most exalted senti- 
 ment which can take possession of the heart, in which 
 nature seems to display all its power, and which most calls 
 forth the imagination and the senses, they have never dared 
 to present its image separated from that of virtue : they too 
 well know whence comes the life which should animate 
 
LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 27 
 
 their pictures. These pictures have been reproduced in all 
 ages, and in all languages been exhausted, and yet no hu- 
 man voice has been able to exhaust the emotions which 
 await the pure and innocent soul, when it meets on earth 
 that soul, which it has sought all over the earth, and chooses 
 among a thousand ! 
 
 This love, unknown to the world, this treasure of hopes, 
 nobler than all the promises of earth, is it not the morning 
 of a better life 1 It seems to render virtue more beautiful, 
 by rendering it accessible to the conceptions of feeble hu- 
 manity, and revealing all the faculties of our nature. Con- 
 secrated by virtue, it triumphs over destiny, and keeps 
 united those whom the chances of life separate, or permits 
 them to be happy together, with a happiness, though seri- 
 ous, full of charms ; for there is happiness in sacrificing 
 themselves together to the laws of duty ; and even hard 
 necessity, explained to the disciple of virtue as a decree of 
 Providence, loses its tyrannical character, and finds sub- 
 mission, where it might have produced despair. 
 
 Virtue, like a tender and vigilant mother, takes care of 
 this sentiment, so liable to go astray, by putting it under 
 the safeguard of severe manners. The interpreter of nature, 
 it makes it the precursor of family affections, and continues 
 to connect with it the sweet bonds, by which new affections 
 are developed. To the paternal roof it carries household 
 gods. Where it appears, all is life and peace ; a new lan- 
 guage is established between hearts which already know so 
 well how to understand each other. Two beings whose 
 alliance is contracted under such auspices, are associated 
 to become better ; when advanced in the career of life, they 
 encourage and reward each other by turns, mingling noble 
 sentiments and good actions, and adding this rich inheri-r 
 tance to the common patrimony. The look which they 
 cast upon their children, animated by the celestial love of 
 excellence, and more eloquent even than the maternal eye 
 when it beams all its tenderness, expresses a gentle pride 
 
28 SELF-EDUCATION, 
 
 and elevated hopes, calling these dear beings into the paths 
 of goodness, and seeing them enter with innocent joy. How 
 beautiful is the family concert with its harmonizing voices ! 
 How beautiful the celestial ray, which illumines the family 
 group, descending upon this masterpiece of nature ! The 
 Love of Excellence has the peculiar power of giving charms 
 to what seems most common. The minute details, the daily 
 and habitual duties, which make up domestic life, and which 
 habit might render monotonous ; which would destroy in- 
 stinctive affection, and disenchant the illusions of imagina- 
 tion ; receive an ever-renewing interest and charm from the 
 Love of Excellence ; offering to it occasions for self-sacri- 
 fice, constant and unobserved, 4 both in the present and 
 future. Equity, confidence, and gratitude are there found 
 mingled every moment, under a thousand forms, the veil of 
 obscurity, which covers all these treasures, rendering them 
 still more precious by keeping them pure. They exist for 
 all, and particularly in the humblest dwelling ; for the less 
 we participate in earthly good, the more we can devote our- 
 selves to one another, by mutual sacrifices, and the ineffable 
 gifts of the heart. 
 
 " There is friendship only among the good," said Cicero, 
 whose meditations were enlightened by so great an experi- 
 ence of human things. Not that, beside simple associations 
 formed for interest, there may not be established also a 
 secret union of hearts, nourished by reciprocal and sincere 
 devotion, of which the wicked themselves are sometimes 
 capable. Conformity of taste, and the relations of habit, 
 create a kind of friendship, to which the laws of opinion 
 give a foundation, and which cannot be relinquished with- 
 out shame ; to which honor imparts a strength and con- 
 stancy, that feeling would not always be sufficient to pre- 
 serve to them. But still this union is superficial. The Love 
 of Excellence alone makes an intimate alliance of souls, be- 
 cause this alone brings to the alliance all that is noblest 
 and deepest in the human faculties. When beings, who are 
 
LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 29 
 
 destined to be blessed with real friendship, meet for the first 
 time in the world, does it not seem that they recognise each 
 other, as if an indistinct presentiment had announced them 
 to one another ? It is because each finds in the other some 
 traits of that excellence, which was already the object of his 
 devotion ; and on the friend thus chosen is bestowed a por- 
 tion of this devotion. A man may thus conceive for another 
 a gratitude far superior to that which any other benefit 
 could inspire ; for he may have received from him the ben- 
 efit of his own improvement. 
 
 There is always a just timidity in regard to the internal 
 assent of our own conscience ; its approbation does not sat- 
 isfy us entirely, unless it is echoed by a friend. We may 
 confide our faults in a superficial friendship ; but it is merely 
 to succeed in excusing them to ourselv.es, or, perhaps, it is 
 to associate others with the passions which have caused 
 them. In true friendship, we confide them with an exqui- 
 site pleasure, partly, that we may amend them, and partly, 
 to relieve our heart from the weight of remorse, not by 
 stifling it, but by finding aid in repentance : it is an atone- 
 ment and a consolation at the same time. It is true, that 
 friendship would not consent that mutual sacrifices should 
 be considered as obedience to the laws of duty ; it rather 
 conceives them the exercise of a privilege. But in the sen- 
 timent of duty it finds a principle of faithfulness, which 
 gives it a new security, as in the Love of Excellence it finds 
 a kind of consecration. There is but one purer joy in 
 friendship, than to see one whom we love do a noble action, 
 — the pleasure of sharing it. 
 
 We have seen how the concentric circles, which compose 
 the different orders of communities, in the bosom of human 
 society, when self-interest is our inspiration, are only orbits 
 where is displayed a kind of collective selfishness ; but sub- 
 stitute the Love of Excellence for this principle, and all 
 these communities, instead of declaring war against each 
 other, and putting themselves in a posture of defence, will 
 3* 
 
30 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 be but one continued alliance, progressively developed upon 
 the largest scale: a family bears the image of country; 
 and, as the same sentiment presides over the successive 
 associations, and brings the same influences, different com- 
 munities are united in general society, by the same bond 
 which attaches their members to one another. And as the 
 Love of Excellence quickens domestic affection by private 
 virtues, so by public virtues it will quicken devotion to 
 one's country. We perceive the image of our country, 
 standing upon the land and in the places where we received 
 life ; we hear its voice resound in the accents of our native 
 tongue ; for these maternal signs recount all its favors, — 
 the education it has given, the protection with which it 
 surrounds us, the laws which have been a kind of external 
 lesson of morality, and the noble examples, which teach us 
 still more. We must learn then how to love it, and to serve 
 it, in a spirit conformable to such recollections. When 
 called to the honor of serving it in deed, we must have a 
 conscience in politics, as we have a conscience in private 
 life ; and our conscience in politics will be the highest de- 
 gree of justice, as well as of devotion. But the first sacri- 
 fice, which love of country will require, is perhaps that for 
 which we are least prepared, — the sacrifice of personal 
 vanity and ambitious passions, and of that party spirit, 
 which, by creating private coalitions in the bosom of gen- 
 eral union, just sunders what it should unite. 
 
 Our country, without betraying what it owes to itself, 
 cannot admit those to the honor of serving it, who do not 
 obtain, from the Love of Excellence, this conscientious and 
 consequently disinterested patriotism. Li free states, all 
 the citizens share the same honor, according to their rela- 
 tive capacities ; and liberty expects and supposes the devo- 
 tion of all to the public good ; and, as it subsists only upon 
 generous sentiments, so nothing is more favorable to keep 
 up such sentiments in the heart. Liberty recognises its true 
 friends in men of an elevated and truly honorable life only : 
 
LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 31 
 
 its cause is better served by the example of good actions, 
 than by the most eloquent discourses. In vain we may im- 
 agine the most learned combinations to supply the place of 
 this disinterested devotion. If eagerness for personal enjoy- 
 ment has relaxed public morals, the genius of selfishness, 
 more skilful than that of the legislator, will deceive all cal- 
 culations ; for each one will study to sacrifice the least pos- 
 sible, in obtaining the greatest part of the common profit ; 
 and seeing nothing more certain than the present, when the 
 country expects every thing from the future, will calculate 
 too well, that power is the great instrument of satisfaction. 
 Hence, when power is in question, there will be violent dis- 
 pute ; when it is confirmed, there will be base flattery. 
 Liberty can never be established, where cold self-interest is 
 extolled, where disinterestedness and self-forgetfulness are 
 thought to be illusions, or turned into ridicule. Athens had 
 its laws, but it lost its liberty as soon as it listened to soph- 
 ists. 
 
 As the progress of civilization takes from patriotism that 
 savage character which treated every stranger as an enemy, 
 and makes people understand that there is a great and indis- 
 soluble brotherhood between them ; so, also, the progress of 
 the Love of Excellence teaches individuals to extend over 
 all mankind those generous affections, which are already 
 exercised in the private circle. The more enlarged the 
 soul becomes by lofty inspirations, the more capable it is of 
 embracing, in the sphere of its devotion, all those whose 
 happiness it can promote. From the mouth of the author 
 of ''Emile" those words came, which were received with so 
 much eagerness by narrow hearts, and raised by them into 
 an axiom ; " The friend of humanity must be the friend of no 
 individual." Surely he misunderstood the love of man, 
 although he so many times lent his eloquent voice to the 
 cause of virtue ; or he calumniated human nature, as he 
 also calumniated civilization, when in his sad and gloomy 
 humors he seemed to fly from truth purposely, and take de- 
 
33 SELF-EDUCA'TION. 
 
 light in paradox. O may that hypocrisy of generosity be 
 condemned, which ' feels for every thing except that which 
 is in contact with it ! ' The rays of the sun traverse the 
 spheres which surround it, aUhough they reach far off into 
 space. The name of human race does not express a cold 
 abstraction merely ; nor do our fellow creatures cease to be 
 so, because they bear an unknown name ; nor do the ser- 
 vices we render them lose their value, because a great 
 number enjoy them. Were Vincent de Paule, who adopted 
 unknown and forsaken children, and loaded himself with 
 the irons of the guilty, — and Howard, who traversed the 
 world, seeking the unfortunate to console, and the repent- 
 ant to encourage, — were these men flattered with idle 
 speculations 1 If we are incapable of understanding how 
 the living principle, which quickens all private affections, is 
 the same which creates such glorious enterprises as these, 
 it is because we do not understand love, and conceive 
 private affections to be only the impulse of an instinc- 
 tive sympathy. Those who truly love, go from the intimate 
 communion of friendship, still more ardent to consecrate 
 themselves to the happiness of their race ; and returning 
 from the labor of this great task, enjoy intimacy with more 
 delight. The means of contributing to it are indeed spar- 
 ingly given to the ordinary conditions of life ; fortune favors 
 those to whom it has granted a larger share of influence 
 over the destiny of others. But what is the need of waiting 
 for this influence from the favors of fortune ? Has not God 
 bestowed power upon the obscurest individual, who is cloth- 
 ed with no authority, and disposes of no treasure, but to 
 whom the Love of Excellence is enough to accomplish a 
 work, which the great of the earth have rarely attempted ? 
 At his voice, in his presence, sentiments arise in the heart, 
 which are worthy of answering to his own ; he moves 
 €very thing by the strength of the conviction with which he 
 is filled ; useful establishments, dedicated to science and 
 virtue, adorning society much better than the monuments of 
 
GOODNESS OF HEART. 33 
 
 art, rise up at his bidding ,• the example of his good actions 
 is transmitted to posterity ; from one extremity of the globe 
 to the other he finds emulators. While political passions 
 divide the great human family, the votaries of excellence, in 
 the midst of the tumult, still prepare the blessings of peace, 
 and relieve the victims of discord. 
 
 O you, to whom this magnificent mission is entrusted, be 
 not cheeked by the icy opinions of a world which,does not 
 understand you ! Disdain the maxims of that fglse wisdom, 
 which pretends to class the end to which you lispire with 
 chimeras ; and dare to exercise a love beyondl their com- 
 prehension. Courageous missionaries of truth [and benefi- 
 cence ! continue to distribute every where thdse salutary 
 fruits, to scatter afar and around you their seedi, adopting 
 beforehand all future generations, by a paternity of soul ! 
 At the sight of you, selfishness is astonished and irritated ; 
 and although frivolous vanity may not even perceive you, 
 the good honor you, and posterity will bless you ; for his- 
 tory, at last, as its most worthy ministry, will honor itself, 
 by honoring the memory of those whom Heaven alone can 
 adequately reward ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GOODNESS OF HEART. 
 
 Op all traits of character, there is none so well under- 
 stood, and so generally agreed upon, as goodness of heart. 
 Our ideas of justice are modified by interest, party spirit, 
 ;and prejudice; but goodness of heart unites all suffrages. 
 lit clashes with no interest, always giving and never taking 
 iaway, and is never severe even under injury. Moreover, 
 [the weaker we are, the more we feel its value, for the more 
 
34 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 we receive its protection ; we do not merely behold it, we 
 are affected by it. We may judge of it without profound- 
 ness of understanding, or prior experience; indeed we feel 
 and enjoy it, rather than judge of it. Finding ourselves at 
 ease under its influence, we are ever charmed at its ap- 
 proach. In its simplicity and truth, it attracts admiration, 
 while it escapes envy, and disarms criticism. Is there a 
 state of society in which good nature, or goodness of heart 
 united to candor, may be exposed to ridicule ? Are there 
 men so degenerate as to fancy themselves high enough to 
 disdain it ? O then may an enlightened and general phi- 
 losophy take its name, reestablish it in honor, confide it 
 to true hearts, and shelter it from the profanations of levity 
 and selfishness ! 
 
 Among the ancients, goodness had a deeper meaning 
 than with us ; it expressed attachment to virtue itself, in- 
 cluding benevolence towards other men as its consequence. 
 This definition is also the only just one. Attachment to 
 virtue itself should never be separated from benevolence 
 towards man, or we take from goodness its moral character, 
 and consequently the fruitful principle from which all its 
 efforts proceed. Goodness of heart is accompanied by so in- 
 genuous a manner, that we are commonly led to take it for 
 an entirely natural disposition ; and this is so true, that 
 those to whom we attribute a goodness that is rather acquir- 
 ed than innate, sometimes think the praise is weakened, as 
 if our supposition caused a doubt about their sincerity ; and 
 that, in implying merit, we necessarily suppose art. The 
 truth is, nature does invite us to be good, and did we but 
 listen, we might without effort follow its advice, and, it would 
 seem like yielding to inclination. But this happy disposi- 
 tion is but too soon corrupted by the numerous solicitations 
 of personal feeling, or the influences of worldly intercourse, 
 and especially by the inquietudes of self-love. It is there- 
 fore necessary that the Love of Excellence should attack 
 these destructive agents in their principle, in order to pre- 
 
GOODNESS OF HEART. 35 
 
 sel*Ve and build up the work of nature. Several instinctive 
 inclinations, which take the form of goodness of heart, might 
 also, by being confounded with it, turn it from its end and 
 destroy its character. In distinguishing true goodness of 
 heart from false, we discover, that the first springs from a 
 reflective principle. He only has real goodness of heart 
 who feels deeply what is praiseworthy in itself, and with 
 whom goodness is not only a quality but a virtue. There 
 is something which passes for goodness of heart, that is in 
 reality weakness; it is unequal and idle; being rather an 
 ostentatious display than positive action ; this is when good 
 will is abandoned to a blind guide, which does not proceed 
 from the depth of the soul, but springs from mere tempera- 
 ment and humor. 
 
 Weakness resembles goodness of heart in not loving to 
 refuse solicitation ; but goodness of heart goes farther ; it 
 seeks the needy, and anticipates solicitation ; yet it can re- 
 fuse when service can be done by refusal. Weakness re- 
 sembles goodness of heart in not desiring to irritate ; but 
 this condescension is servile, and springs only from fear ; it 
 dares not contradict : while the condescension of goodness 
 of heart springs from fearing to injure ; it does not fear to 
 displease ; it can face resistance to carry relief, and in its 
 zeal conquers every thing. Weakness is moved in favor 
 of the fortunate and powerful; while goodness of heart in- 
 terposes with courage between the force which oppresses and 
 the forsaken being who yields to force ; braving every thing 
 when it may protect. 
 
 Nor is it to be really benevolent, to be so towards some 
 persons, or in some instances only. The nature of goodness 
 of heart is to be as universal as it is constant. Other virtues 
 permit repose after effort, and are only exercised at times ; 
 goodness of heart neither admits of relaxation, nor has ex- 
 traordinary flights ; resembling justice in making no excep- 
 tion of persons, and its only preferences being in favor of 
 those who suffer, or who have need of support ; as if it were 
 
36 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 sent by Providence to restore the equilibrium, that is dis- 
 turbed by the chances of human life. Goodness of heart is 
 a domestic virtue ; it always dwells with us ; especially in the 
 most familiar, habitual, and obscure relations of life, and 
 this is what renders it most difficult. We are opposed and 
 deceived by men, by events, by all that is external ; and 
 within, a thousand secret causes excite discontent and cha- 
 grin. How, under so many capricious influences, can this 
 equable disposition be preserved 1 There is only one way : 
 we must deliver the soul itself from internal agitation, di- 
 rect our eyes incessantly to a horizon more elevated than 
 the scene of daily circumstances, and live in that region 
 of Love whence flows unmingled serenity. Truth and duty 
 are alone immutable, and nothing is sustained in the charac- 
 ter, which is not founded on them. There is no perfect 
 consistency, but that which rests upon enlightened convic- 
 tion ; even habit is not enough, for habit, being connected 
 with daily circumstances, is disconcerted by unexpected 
 temptations. 
 
 The man, who lavishes external professions, may deceive 
 himself, as well as those to whom he addresses them. He 
 may really feel at the moment what he expresses, although 
 he does not foresee what he may be called upon to do, to 
 prove their reality : the sacrifice is not yet present to his 
 thoughts. At the sight of a fellow-being, the first emotion 
 of all of us can be no other than a spontaneous sentiment of 
 benevolence, which bursts forth of itself. The profession 
 of this, however, becomes a deceitful promise, and produces 
 hollow words, when goodness has not those deep roots in j 
 the heart, which the love of virtue would implant there. 1 
 
 Goodness of heart is eager to act and produce ; it seeks 
 not its own gratification, or the suffrage of others, but the 
 real fruits, which are to conduce to the general happiness. 
 It has an industry which is peculiar to itself, inexhausti- 
 ble in invention and resources. The good nature which 
 stops at external professions, is often but the desire to please, 
 
GOODNESS OF HEART. 37 
 
 the offspring of vanity, coveting the honors of goodness of 
 heart, without accepting its burthens ; or a kind of selfish- 
 ness, which has recourse to false allurements, that it may 
 obtain the easier conquest. Goodness of heart is not in the 
 least mercenary ; it might be called impartial and general 
 generosity. It does not aspire to be noticed ; it even loves 
 to disguise itself, and hardly is conscious of its own existence. 
 It does not repel gratitude, while gratitude presents itself 
 as a return for affection ; but it flies from it, when it takes 
 the form of acquittal of debt. Such a mercenary return 
 would take away both its enjoyment and its merit. Good- 
 ness of heart can be generous, even in consenting to accept 
 a service ; for to please others sometimes involves sacrific- 
 ing one's pride ; and we must feel within us a very great 
 depth of love, to bind ourselves to be grateful, A feeling of 
 just dignity sometimes makes us refuse a benefit, but there 
 are those who refuse because they have too narrow hearts 
 to pledge themselves to be grateful. 
 
 Far from being liberal with professions like the worldly, 
 the good often seem sparing of them. They avoid all kind 
 of ostentation. They have a certain gravity and reserve; 
 and being occupied with p^n all-absorbing sentiment, they 
 are sometimes even rough and severe : to the superficial 
 they may appear cold, but every thing betrays them to the 
 eyes of the attentive. He who understands them from sym- 
 pathy, sees that they are quiet to meditate and prepare their 
 touching dispensations ; that they are collecting themselves 
 to act. They are serious, because they are true ; and 
 when they break silence, their words are actions, that 
 have an unexpected value and power, penetrating to the 
 depth of the soul, and carrying confidence and repose ; 
 appeasing the storms of passion, and soothing the deep- 
 est sorrows. Justice may give to society that imperfect 
 peace, w^hich consists in the cessation from war : it is 
 I contented with staying the arms of men, that are ready 
 I to injure one another. Goodness of heart consummates 
 I 4 
 
da SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 the treaty, by extinguishing animosities, and inviting men 
 to help each other. The cahnness of its innocence is dif- 
 fused over every thing around. Its attractive povv^er draws 
 after it the beings whom it envelopes ; uniting them to 
 each other by the same tie, with which it binds them ta 
 itself. Justice says, " Lay down your arms ; " goodness of 
 heart says, " Love one another." Beneficence relieves in- 
 digence ; goodness of heart has comfort for all the troubles 
 of the soul; it is the angel of consolation and hope; it does 
 more than relieve misfortune, it teaches how to support it ; 
 it reanimates the being, who is laid low by adversity, com- 
 municating to him its own moral life ; it bestows upon men 
 the greatest of blessings, it makes them love virtue. 
 
 From that active industry, which goodness of heart inces- 
 santly creates, and from that desire that it has of remaining 
 unknown, arises the delicacy which is its ornament and dis- 
 tinctive sign. With. what a true instinct the good discern 
 what may be useful to or what may please another ; and 
 how they may conceal their own movements from those 
 whom they serve ! What value, consequently, they give to 
 the slightest things ! making them agreeable and elevated 
 in proportion as they communicate to them all their worth. 
 We recognise goodness of heart by those little evidences of 
 foresight, which tender affection or perfect disinterestedness 
 alone can suggest ; as we detect the hand of the great artist 
 by certain strokes, which, though mere touches, betray pro- 
 found meditation on the beautiful. 
 
 There are three emanations from the vital principle of 
 goodness of heart; tolerance, indulgence, and condescen- 
 sion ; in all of which the Love of Excellence triumphs over 
 the greatest barriers that separate men. Men are liable to 
 confound tolerance with indulgence : sometimes thinking 
 themselves indulgent when they only tolerate ; sometimes 
 excusing themselves for being intolerant, under the pretext 
 of being just. Tolerance is only patience in bearing what 
 opposes inclination, taste, opinion, or habits ; while indul- 
 
GOODNESS OF HEART. 39 
 
 gence is the disposition to pardon injuries. Now self-love 
 inclines men to think that others injure, when they oppose 
 them. And as they condemn, as so many errors, the opin- 
 ions which differ from their own ; so they condemn, as so 
 many failings and faults, the actions which displease, or even 
 the little instances of neglect, which incommode them. 
 The intolerant man thinks himself better than his fellows, 
 or at least wishes to appear so ; he is severe, that he may 
 have a right to be harsh ; he wishes to be honored for his 
 very exactions, and to command the respect of others even 
 in satisfying his own inclinations. The love of power, aris- 
 ing from a blind pride, makes use of intolerance as the 
 most effectual instrument to work out its ends; and thus it 
 becomes the tyranny of selfishness. 
 
 Intolerance takes its haughty and intractable character 
 from pride as a fountain ; and because it is pride in action, 
 it is also irritable, and easily disturbed by what is most 
 harmless ; it considers independence as a revolt against 
 its pretensions ; raises itself into a rule ; takes the form of 
 law, and endeavours to raise a sense of obligation as a 
 means of power. Equity and the most rigorous equity, can 
 alone prevent such usurpation ; for tolerance is a recogni- 
 tion of that independence, which is equally granted to all 
 men. And what is our title to this superiority, in which 
 we dare to take pride ? Presumptuous confidence in our 
 own reason is rather a probable indication of error, than a 
 title to the confidence of others ; for it is the most frequent 
 cause of error, and the most common obstacle to the discov- 
 ery of truth. Truth and wisdom do not recognise their 
 disciples by that bitter and absorbing zeal, which, so far 
 from serving their cause, makes it misunderstood, and 
 would render it odious, if it were possible, by substituting 
 oppression and violence for the gentle influence of enlight- 
 ened and free conviction. Now pride destroys the senti- 
 ment of this equity, and proscribes the maxims of good 
 sense ; and so deeply does tolerance wound pride in its 
 
40 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 last recesses, that it alone among the virtues, has been de- 
 nied the name of a virtue, by means of paradoxes, elevated 
 into doctrines. The tolerance, which bears faults of char- 
 acter, has even been recommended beyond that which bears 
 opinions, although faults of character are in themselves 
 always reprehensible, while opinions are free, and even false 
 ones may be sincere. But we submit much sooner to be 
 wounded in our interests, than in our vanity ; and tolerance 
 of opposite opinions is freedom from the most subtle vanity. 
 Tolerance has open and arrogant enemies, whom its gen- 
 tleness, and patience, and calmness cannot disarm, but 
 seem to encourage, and whom its name alone seems to of- 
 fend as a reproach. Do we not see crowds of servile beings 
 range themselves round the oppressor, and against that vir- 
 tue which would protect them ? O let goodness of heart 
 arm itself with courage, and employ all its power to destroy 
 this offspring of human vanity, and to dissipate the fatal in- 
 toxication of those men, who are so preoccupied with them- 
 selves ! Let it unveil this selfishness ; let it attack it in 
 this new retreat, where it strengthens itself to go out, con- 
 queror and persecutor ; that truth and goodness, honored for 
 their own sake, and by a reverence worthy of them, may 
 not be profaned by becoming the instruments of ambitious 
 passion ! Learning to live in others, let us learn to com- 
 prehend, that their tastes, ideas, and caprices, perhaps 
 even their prejudices, have a right to our regard ; that the 
 uneasiness and restraint, which they impose upon us, are 
 a sacrifice which we owe them. Let us learn how to free 
 ourselves from the exactions, that our own habits have im- 
 posed upon us. Then, without knovv^ing it, and without 
 pretending to it, we shall perhaps more easily, and at least 
 much more lawfully, obtain that influence which v/e are so 
 eager to exercise ; and our influence will be respected, 
 because it will be founded upon confidence. The art of 
 persuading supposes the art of entering into the senti- 
 ments of others, rather than that of transmitting the sen- 
 
GOODNESS OF HEART. 41 
 
 timents which we wish them to adopt. Even if we have 
 the eye of the most experienced observer, with difficulty 
 we escape from that natural disposition of the mind, which 
 makes us judge of others by ourselves. We only know 
 those well whom we love, and the love of man is the guid- 
 ing light to the knowledge of the human heart. We some- 
 times submit to the self-interested, if they are powerful and 
 strong ; but we only trust those, who are animated by a 
 sincere zeal for the interests of others. 
 
 Men are generally more indulgent to the faults which 
 offend the laws of morality, than those which offend them- 
 selves. The first indulgence is easier, and costs little ; it 
 is however less just. We have a right to forgive what per- 
 sonally attacks us, — a noble prerogative of which goodness 
 of heart shows us all the value. Even selfish morality coun- 
 sels us to refrain from revenge, when it cannot obtain sat- 
 isfaction ; and exercises external pa,rdon, when he who 
 grants it may profit by the gratitude of him who receives 
 it ; but the pardon of the heart, the sacrifice of all secret 
 resentment, — what power can produce it, if it be not that 
 of an essentially generous sentiment, which renders us ca- 
 pable of an entire self-forgetfulness ? Simple natural affec- 
 tion enjoys the power of relieving from the weight of regret 
 the friend who has wounded us ; renewing the bond which the 
 offence has broken, and making it still clossr. It is pleas- 
 ant to open our arms to him, who has been separated from us 
 a moment, and to give assurance to him, whom our presence 
 disturbed. The joy of two fellow-countrymen who meet in 
 a remote country is less transporting than the reconciliation 
 of two brothers. But if the author of the offence is himself 
 without regret, and the pardon is to remain unknown, even 
 to him who receives it ; or if it is without value in his eyes ; 
 a more elevated motive v/ill be necessary for a generosity 
 which finds no recompense but in itself Now there is 
 nothing more frequent ; — for a kind of generosity is also 
 requisite to accept a pardon, and jt is often received with 
 4* 
 
42 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 less gratitude than a simple favor. Nothing troubles men 
 more, than what reveals to them their own faults, because 
 they are humiliated by them. The indulgence is repelled, 
 which if it do not contain a reproach, at least contains a 
 censure ; we might even say that we would rather pardon 
 others the offences we have received from them, than the 
 misfortune of having been exposed to our own injustice ; 
 we revenge upon them the remorse that torments ourselves, 
 or we seek to turn aside its point, to justify ourselves in 
 our own eyes, by finding those guilty, whom we have in- 
 jured. Often we were only imprudent in wounding them, 
 and became unjust through the pride which wished to ex- 
 cuse itself. 
 
 To remember an offence, after having pardoned it, is a 
 thing which can be reconciled doubtless with sincere par- 
 don, and may even reproduce and continue its generosity. 
 Yet perfect goodness of heart requires an entire forgetful- 
 ness of the offence ; the indulgence, which cannot be ac- 
 companied by forgetfulness, is not sufficiently secure ; it 
 seems to threaten some return of resentment ; it would be 
 a sort of ostentation of virtue to repeat the pardon every 
 day. The delicacy of goodness refuses to carry so far the 
 merit of its liberality ; it effaces from the memory the re- 
 membrance of wrongs. 
 
 How serious do vices and simple failings appear in those 
 we do not love ! and how excusable they seem if we ftnd 
 them in our friends ! Thus we bend morality to the pleas- 
 ure of our affections, when our affections ought to acknowl- 
 edge the supremacy of morality. 
 
 The judgment which an impartial and disinterested spec- 
 tator passes upon a fault, committed by another man, is a 
 complex judgment, including the appreciation of a duty 
 which has been violated, and an opinion upon the culpabili- 
 ty of him who has erred. Worldly indulgence confounds 
 these two things : having easy notions of duty, it consents 
 to be less severe upon persons. Still we must be thankful 
 
GOODNESS OF HEAIIT. 43 
 
 to it for this concession ; for there is nothing so common, 
 in the world, as the union of great weakness in principle 
 and great rigor in application. By the first, self-condemna- 
 tion is avoided ; by the second, the pleasure ofcensurincr 
 is reserved, by which vanity is highly gratified ; for in 
 censuring others we always exalt ourselves. It is quite 
 otherwise with virtuous indulgence ; this decides with re- 
 pugnance, and cautiously passes sentences which affect 
 individuals. It can compassionate weakness, unsteadi- 
 ness, and ignorance ; but a holy indignation takes pos- 
 session of it at the presence of vice : the Love of Excel- 
 lence, which is its principle, is also the horror of evil. We 
 must, therefore, know how to excuse those who err, without 
 letting our earnestness for the cause of duty abalB, Power, 
 fortune, and glory are titles to favor with worldly indul- 
 gence, which easily excuses brilliant faults, and those which 
 are followed by success ; and even pardons the corruption 
 which is accompanied by spirit and gracefulness. Virtuous 
 indulgence does not admit of this compromise. Vice, in 
 its eyes, is never in good taste. It revolts against it when 
 powerful by force or by opinion ; for though generous, it is 
 neither fawning nor mercenary. It reserves itself for those, 
 who, having less understanding and assistance, are more 
 excusable ; and for those whose examples are less contagious. 
 The indulgence of virtue goes further still ; the crimi- 
 nal himself, avowed and acknowledged as such, is not ex- 
 cluded from it; in him it still sees a man, and of all men 
 the most unfortunate ; in his heart it perceives the power 
 of repentance; while assisting him, it conceives the hope of 
 producing a kind of moral ressurrection ; it has affections 
 pure and generous enough to penetrate the impure atmo- 
 sphere of crime, and into the corrupted heart, to diffuse heal- 
 ing influences. Even in those cases where human justice 
 must punish, virtuous indulgence may compassionate ; re- 
 animating, reconciling, and bringing back in triumph a 
 conquest to human nature. Thus goodness of heart is 
 
44 SfiLI^-EDUCATlON. 
 
 heroic also, descending into the dungeons to which society 
 has banished those whom it rejects. In the midst of those 
 ^degenerate beings, it truly appears a messenger from Heav- 
 en, promising and announcing the pardon which society 
 refuses ; and teaching men to obtain from chastisement a 
 means of expiation and reform. And is it impossible, that 
 he whom it finds guilty, should become through repentance 
 a model which the good themselves may emulate ? 
 
 In these efforts to raise the criminal from the abyss of 
 vice, the sublimest condescension is united with the hero- 
 ism of indulgent goodness. Condescension is an emotion 
 peculiar to the good, who love to stoop, that they may be 
 within the reach of those with whom they communicate, 
 and render the intercourse useful ; for we are only truly 
 useful by the help of confidence ; and confidence is gained 
 by making use of self-love, under the condition at least of 
 an apparent equality. Zeal for excellence is therefore the 
 inspiration of goodness of heart. Real superiority alone 
 can stoop thus to raise to itself those with whom it com- 
 municates. This is its privilege, and it is the only privilege 
 which virtuous superiority accepts. Vain mediocrity tor- 
 ments itself to attain a false elevation ; and brings down 
 others, that it may be great by comparison. 
 
 When condescension relieves misfortune, it avoids the 
 forms of protection ; when it enlightens ignorance, it avoids 
 dogmatism ; when it teaches duty, it softens its austerity ; 
 and it becomes humble with the weak, as if it shared their 
 weakness. To bear importunity without impatience, is a 
 very obscure, but it is a very meritorious sacrifice, because 
 very difficult, and very necessary ; but there is another, 
 perhaps rarer and harder, which people of mind impose 
 upon themselves, when they consent to bear the tedious 
 conversation of common men ; this sacrifice has the more 
 value, that it is more unknown, and is a secret which can- 
 not be suspected by any but those who ha^e the courage 
 to make it. Such a sacrifice, however, by men distinguished 
 
GOODNESS OF HEART. 
 
 45 
 
 for their mind and knowledge, is not only a praiseworthy 
 action, but a real duty ; for it is the only way they can em- 
 ploy the gifts, which have been bestowed upon them, in the 
 service of others. We must be willing to grow weary with 
 the ignorant, if we wish to enlighten them, and to keep up 
 that intercourse of affection, which the feeling of superi- 
 ority would infallibly destroy ; because superiority would 
 touch upon that which would most effectually humiliate 
 those whom we treat as inferiors. 
 
 If goodness of heart seems to acquire a greater value in 
 persons elevated in rank and dignity, it is because it sup- 
 poses on their part a greater condescension. And station 
 is a privilege indeed, when it becomes a means of rendering 
 the images of goodness more perceptible to men ! But 
 they alone obtain this privilege, whose condescension is 
 derived from real goodness of heart. 
 
 Is there not also a condescension of moral superiority 
 which takes delight in disguising its own grandeur, without 
 losing its dignity, and puts itself within reach of the weak, 
 by seeming to become their equal, and thereby establishes 
 with them an intercourse of confidence and freedom, that 
 raises them insensibly to itself? There are some people 
 who may seem good through artifice. And condescension, 
 when inspired by goodness of heart, in its perfect disinter- 
 estedness, practises what is suggested by the desire of 
 popularity ; for as the great disguise themselves when they 
 seek pleasure, so condescension is the recreation of virtue. 
 
 It will be said, perhaps, that the subject we have just 
 treated is exhausted. But he who thinks there is nothing 
 more to be said about goodness of heart, if he meditate 
 deeply upon this noble subject, and afterwards examine 
 himself faithfully, will perhaps acknowledge, that there 
 still remains much, in order to realize all which it compris- 
 3s. "We may attain it by freeing ourselves from the obsta- 
 cles and fetters which prevent it from being developed, 
 'ather than by fatiguing ourselves by direct efforts to excite 
 
46 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 it. The serenity, which a pure conscience diffuses in the 
 soul, naturally disposes to benevolence ; nothing preventing 
 us from being tolerant, indulgent, and condescending to oth- 
 ers, so much as to be ill at ease vv^ith ourselves. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OP FALSE SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Some persons, who are good, do not seem to have much 
 sensibility, and persons of sensibility are not always faithful 
 to goodness of heart. These phenomena are explained 
 by the preceding observations. Sensibility conduces to 
 goodness of heart, but does not constitute it ; it is a gen- 
 erous disposition natural to the affections : but goodness 
 of heart requires something more than the affections ; its 
 generosity is of a higher character in that it has a moral 
 principle. We must take care lest we mistake for sensibility 
 the signs which announce it ; for sometimes these signs are 
 deceptive; there is a false sensibility which may be mistaken 
 for the true, even by people themselves, and which serves 
 too often as a mask for a real indifference of heart ; for 
 those who are selfish in reality often have the credit of lib- 
 eral affections ; to hear them, one might sometimes think 
 they were sinking under the weight of oppressive emotions. 
 Nor is this very wonderful ; for if the imagination easily 
 deceives us about material and external facts, which we 
 have the power to test, how much greater may be our delu- 
 sions with respect to the purely internal phenomena which 
 belong to the affections ! Within us, facts and images are 
 placed on the same ground, and the means of distinguishing 
 them are few, and not well known, nor easy to be employ- 
 ed. Thus, exaltation of mind is often confounded with the 
 
FALSE SENSIBILITY. 47 
 
 emotions of the soul, and a factitious softness with sincere 
 affection. The heart often takes a less or greater part in 
 these dispositions at their beginning ; but the imagination, 
 when it takes possession of them, makes them unnatural. 
 
 The first illusion, derived from this source is produced 
 by the habit of occupying the imagination with persons and 
 situations arbitrarily conceived ; of turning our eyes from 
 the scenes of real life, and fixing them upon those of a 
 purely ideal world. Nothing is easier than to create per- 
 sons and situations most likely to excite warm interest ; 
 and we may renew and redouble this interest by all kinds 
 of anxieties, terrors^ and contrasts. As long as such an 
 entertainment is regarded as a mere entertainment, it is 
 innocent, and may sometimes be useful, being, as it were, 
 an anticipated experience of life ; and if the creations bear 
 any analogy with the real circumstances which await us,, 
 they may prepare the heart for supporting and enjoying 
 them. But it is very different if these pictures have na 
 resemblance to events which may occur, or even if the di- 
 mensions and coloring are exaggerated ; for when we return 
 to the realities of life, every thing will appear colorless 
 and cold. Whatever care may be taken to make these pic- 
 tures like real life, from the very fact of their being pictures,, 
 they lose those asperities, which wound us in our contact 
 with things : the rock, though imperfectly polished by the 
 chisel, seems smooth in the distance. The exertion the 
 i mind makes, in conceiving them, communicates to them 
 I an artificial brilliancy, which does not proceed from them- 
 I selves, but from us. Our mind interposes a kind of medi- 
 um, which, like the transparency of air or crystal, increases 
 their brightness. They have a kind of lightness, which 
 prevents us from foreseeing how heavy would be their reali- 
 ty. They are transient, and do not try our constancy. 
 
 It is to this disposition of mind, that we give the name of 
 romantic sensibility ; it is a disposition especially cherished 
 by the literature of the present day ,• it is also cherished by 
 
48 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 that vague melancholy, which proceeds from satiety and 
 from mistakes made in intercourse with the world. Anoth- 
 er source of it is the secret desire for activity which cannot 
 be satisfied. Many persons who are discontented with their 
 situation, and confined by social bonds in the narrow limits 
 of the condition which has fallen to their lot, seek refuge 
 in an ideal world ; and this they do with ardor proportion- 
 ate to their intellectual culture, and to the natural range of 
 their afi'ections ; both of which render them more capable 
 of comparing what they want with what they possess, and 
 of feeling the immense disproportion. 
 
 The Love of Excellence is the only preventive of these 
 corruptions. Always guided by reason and seeking its light, 
 it attaches itself to truth as to a duty ; and being constantly 
 directed to what is practical, it is naturally brought back 
 to the lessons of experience. It not only perceives the nat- 
 ural interest of things, but it will sometimes animate what 
 appeared cold and sad with thoughts which lead us to dis- 
 cover an unknown value in it. It conceals by i1;s patience 
 and indulgence what appears wounding and hard. It 
 prevents or cures the moral diseases, which led us to have 
 recourse to illusions as a relief It frees us from those 
 vacant moments, which must be filled up at any rate. It 
 converts into useful actions that secret inquietude, which 
 torments and consumes a soul of great capacity, when it 
 does not know and act itself out. It calms that discontent, 
 which the sight of happier and more brilliant situations 
 causes in those who are less favored ; inducing us to accept 
 with resignation, and even with gratitude and joy, the more 
 modest, but, perhaps, preferable rank, which Providence 
 has assigned us ; and to that fruitless and gloomy melan- 
 choly, which uneasiness of heart engenders, succeeds a 
 more expansive and gentle sentiment. 
 
 When we are tempted to complain of life as a heavy 
 burthen, let us look around and observe all the wants, 
 which implore our assistance, the laudable enterprises to 
 
FALSE SENSIBILITY. 49 
 
 which nothing is wanting but men who can devote them- 
 selves to their accomplishment ; let us observe the estimable 
 and forsaken, whom we may console and make our friends ; 
 and we shall find that we have not time nor strength for 
 all who need us. We complain of the mistakes we make. 
 There is a career, that is ever open, in which there can be 
 no mistakes, — the career of doing good ; where if man can- 
 not attain the end entirely, he has at least satisfaction in 
 his efforts. The void, of which we complain, is not the 
 void of existence, but the void of our own hearts. Instead 
 of accusing destiny, let us accuse our blindness and guilty 
 indifTerence. 
 
 Sensibility, led astray by the imagination, sometimes 
 transfers to outwards signs what it should give to the ob- 
 jects themselves ; and hence arises a second kind of illu- 
 sion. Signs are intended to quicken the affections, by 
 awakening the idea of their objects, or the relations which 
 exist between these objects and ourselves ; but in vivid and 
 exalted imaginations the sign too often takes the place of 
 the thing signified. Such is the origin of all superstitions, 
 in which sensibility has always a share. We tremble at the 
 sight of blood, and shudder at hearing groans and cries ; 
 we wander around tombs, and think and call ourselves full 
 of sensibility ; yet we do not penetrate into the secret of 
 silent troubles, which are always deepest ; we do not recog- 
 nise grief, except in the robes of mourning. We carefully 
 collect every thing which calls back the remembrance of 
 absent friends, but we neglect those who are present. We 
 lavish our compassion upon physical sufferings, and hardly 
 suspect those sufferings of the soul, which have a right to 
 a more generous sympathy. 
 
 But virtue goes directly on to its end ; it disperses vain 
 shadows, attaches itself to persons, penetrates reality, ex- 
 amines wants, and determines results. The sensibility 
 which it nourishes, dwells in the soul ; it therefore knows 
 all the secrets of the soul, is interested in it, and brings it 
 5 
 
50 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 assistance. To the virtuous, sentiment is not recreation, but 
 the voice of humanity itself; and in their opinion the val- 
 ue of affection lies in the manner in which it exercises it- 
 self; and they are only satisfied by the proofs it can give of 
 sincerity. 
 
 A third kind of illusion arises from the influence which 
 every thing that is surrounded with splendor, exerts over 
 the imagination. We confound the liveliness of impression 
 received from pictures, with the emotions that belong to 
 those benevolent affections, which the sentiment of esteem 
 so profitably cherishes. This factitious sensibility sympa- 
 thizes with the joys and sorrows of those who occupy the 
 first rank : it is excited by success, and moved in the cause 
 of favor and power ; carrying its affections as a tribute to 
 the idols of fame, and disdaining the humble and obscure. 
 Flatterers are more honest than we suppose ; they have 
 a real affection for power. Now nothing is more reasona- 
 ble than to enjoy the honors with which a friend is invested, 
 especially if he has deserved them ; we enjoy them, be- 
 cause we cherish his person, and are happy at his prosperi- 
 ty. But, if we sound the depths of our hearts, shall we 
 not sometimes discover, that we love a friend more, when 
 he is favored by fortune and glory ? It is the decoration, 
 which enhances his value, and seems to make us discover 
 in him new qualities. We require illustrious misfortunes, 
 to move us in real life as well as in tragedy. But what 
 talisman can those employ, whom the chances of life, and 
 the cruel injustice of opinion have affected, and who have 
 the most sacred rights over our hearts ? What will become 
 of the domestic affections, whose exercise must be constant 
 and unnoticed. At home, theatrical decorations disappear ; 
 there are no more historical personages ; we come down to 
 vulgar realities. 
 
 If there is nothing brilliant or attractive, unless it be out 
 of the common course, if exaltation of mind can only be 
 produced by what is extraordinary, it is natural that 
 
FALSE SENSIBILITY. 51 
 
 excitement should be slight in common situations, and en- 
 tirely pass away by continued experience. But it is when 
 there is no excitement, that virtue appears in all its power; 
 gently lifting the veil of obscurity and modesty, and teach- 
 ing us to love our fellow-beings for their own sakes, and to 
 cherish them most when they have most need of us, when 
 they are humble and our love can indemnify them for the 
 inattention of others. 
 
 There is another illusion more delicate and subtle in its 
 origin ; which has a less disagreeable character than the 
 preceding; but exerts a more fatal influence. This pro- 
 ceeds from the efl'ect produced on the imagination by mod- 
 els of the beautiful. The sentiment of the beautiful is of 
 itself eminently pure and true ; it is moral, and one of the 
 noblest branches of the sensibility of the soul. In natural 
 affections there is a hidden harmony, which accords with 
 what constitutes the beautiful in nature ; and these effects 
 mutually assist each other, giving the love of the beautiful 
 its true direction. But the presence of beauty kindles a 
 fire in the mind, of which the imagination is the focus ; 
 this excitement increases, when the image of the beautiful 
 is reproduced in perceptible objects, borrowing the vivid- 
 ness of their tints ; for it then seems like the sentiment 
 itself; it even surpasses it in ardor; and the sentiment 
 becomes cold in comparison. Soon this emotion becomes a 
 want, and is necessary to direct and keep up the affections. 
 It will then be^-equisite, that the objects offered to our most 
 serious affections be elegant, that the scenes where our be- 
 nevolence is implored be picturesque in their effect, and that 
 the relations of life take a poetic aspect ; and even grief 
 must be graceful to excite our sympathy. But can those 
 with whom we live habitually, interest us by this magic 
 charm ? Common intercourse gives rise to a thousand dis- 
 cords ; proximity makes the harmony of the whole disap- 
 pear ; familiarity disenchants ; the picture which is too near 
 our eye has no effect. 
 
52 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Youth in its flower, and beauty adorned with all the gifts 
 of nature and borne upon a triumphal car, attract towards 
 them a train of these false affections, and we think we love 
 what pleases us. Talent is also beauty as well as power; 
 it therefore has its admirers and flatterers, who think they 
 are the friends of its possessor. We mistake our impas- 
 sioned tastes for affections. There are some parents who 
 prefer the deformed child, but not all. Is not our attach- 
 ment to a friend put to the proof when we discover him to 
 be ridiculous? Poverty, clothed in rags. Suffering, in all its 
 painful expressions, and the sight of human misery seen 
 face to face, will dissipate that speculative sensibility, which 
 seeks in scenes of misfortune a subject for the pencil of 
 the artist. 
 
 Experience teaches us, that the charms of music, when too 
 frequently enjoyed, throw the mind into a vague and idle rev- 
 erie, and the soul into a soft languor. The same may be 
 said in respect to the habit of too frequent contemplation 
 of all the productions of art. We are in like danger in 
 respect to the emotions which the beauties of nature cause, 
 if we suffer these emotions to be confounded with the mor- 
 al indolence of the soul. A man, who composes or dreams 
 in idyls, who wanders enamoured upon the borders of a 
 solitary brook, may return to his family with a cold heart, 
 or in a peevish humor. 
 
 If we examine these different kinds of false sensibility, 
 we shall find, that they have one peculiarity in common ; 
 they all conceal a secret selfishness, under apparent disin- 
 terestedness. To take to ourselves the charm of affection, 
 without submitting to its conditions, some of which are 
 hard, is like gathering the flower, without having contribu- 
 ted to enrich the soil where the plant grows ; it is like 
 taking pleasure without purchasing it by any sacrifice, or 
 rendering it profitable to others. It is a kind of mental 
 sensuality, not so gross as bodily, but yet selfish, and there- 
 fore more liable to deceive us. But the wise man is careful 
 
FALSE SENSIBILITY. 53 
 
 not to blame all kinds of exaltation. Far from undervalu- 
 ing a legitimate enthusiasm, it is, on the contrary, from his 
 very appreciation of it, that he more rigidly preserves it 
 from profanation. He knows that this generous principle 
 is the soul of all noble actions, and of all great thoughts ; 
 but he also knows, that a just and enlightened inspiration 
 can be the fruit only of reflection and experience ; that it 
 is cultivated by truth, and is faithful to nature. Now false 
 exaltation shares all the caprices of the faculty from which 
 it emanates ; it is changeable because novelty is an illusion 
 which often heightens, and fills the place of all other illu- 
 sions of the imagination ; the cause of its fluctuations ex- 
 ists in itself; it has its intoxication, its fits, and its delirium ; 
 it also has its anomalies, its repose, and its faintings ; and 
 when it abandons to himself the imprudent being who has 
 given himself up to it, he is motionless and lifeless, seeing 
 nothing around him but vacancy and the horror of dark- 
 ness. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 
 
 They alone truly know what they desire, who desire 
 excellence ; and it is because a pure Love of Excellence is 
 so rare, that we so often see, at the foundation of human 
 will, so little simplicity of purpose. When men are ex- 
 hausting themselves in acquiring that external good, which 
 generally offers itself in a material and sensible form, they 
 fancy that they are pursuing something determinate and 
 positive; and with what a disdainful smile do men, thus 
 preoccupied, look upon all ambition, which tends to the 
 acquisition of riches purely moral ! Themselves alone, as 
 5* 
 
54 SELE^-EDUCATION'. 
 
 they think, are in possession of real riches ;■ alone exempt 
 from illusions : they do not give themselves up, they say, to 
 vague and idle speculations; vi^hat they mean to obtain is 
 present, manifest to all eyes, definite ; they alone attach 
 themselves to what is real. 
 
 We do not mean to dispute, however, that fortune, power, 
 or pleasure, may become distinct, clear, and positive, as 
 objects of life ; but we think it may be doubted, whether 
 the sworn votaries of these, have generally any clear and 
 precise idea of what constitutes their value. A peculiar 
 and intrinsic value does not exist in power and fortune. 
 They are only useful as instruments ; they are however 
 important as instruments, and universally applicable ; and 
 are therefore worthy of much pains to obtain them, although 
 their valuation is the more difficult to calculate. But they 
 are often pursued, as if they were something in themselves. 
 With the ambitious, as well as with the avaricious, the 
 means become the end, and the object is acquired to be 
 possessed, rather than to be employed. But whether power 
 is sought as the means of riches, or for the purpose of 
 ambition, pleasure is the last term, the definite end to 
 which every thing tends. And what is this pleasure ? 
 What is its nature? When will it commence? How long 
 will it endure ? Will it be agitation or repose ? the pleas- 
 ure of sense or of vanity? And, suppose we have a capaci- 
 ty of receiving it, will it remain with us ? Do not the 
 pleasures of sense and vanity often oppose each other. 
 Do not men often degrade to enrich themselves, and impov- 
 erish themselves to satisfy their pride? And if they can 
 define the intermediate end, can they define the definite 
 end, to which these realities, of which they are so confi- 
 dent, are to serve as an introduction? What then are these 
 realities of which they boast? They shine upon the eye ; 
 they can, perhaps, be weighed against each other ; but we 
 cannot estimate their value, for it is a relative one. Men 
 speak of interest as the grand motive of action, as if noth- 
 
RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 5^ 
 
 ing was so easily determined as interest ; but considering 
 the various elements, of which it is composed, what calcu- 
 lation is so difficult ? Even were moral principle absent 
 it is doubtful whether interest could become the chief 
 motive. It is often sacrificed to opinion ; often to habit ; 
 sometimes to cowardice ; sometimes to pride ; and even to 
 a carelessness which is not less frequent than extravao-ant. 
 Besides, the generality of men preserve some moral in- 
 tentions. There is a necessity of being just ; and the in- 
 tention to be just is preserved and cultivated by education 
 and social intercourse, and often procures pleasures that are 
 obtained at little cost ; and experience constantly increases 
 the power of these pleasures as motives of action. Most 
 men, however, attempt to associate their moral intentions 
 with personal ambition, and would make them go on 
 together, independent of one another, these two classes of 
 motives sharing their daily conduct. Thus men endeavour 
 to reap the fruits of two principles of action at once ; to 
 obtain the honors of virtue while satisfying their passions ; 
 gaining security from the former, in which to enjoy the 
 latter without restraint. For they are ashamed to confess 
 to themselves their weakness ; they are not vile nor corrupt, 
 and desire to be honest, upright, and estimable in their own 
 eyes. But why not aspire to something more? Do they 
 fear the fatigue which the labor of improving would cause ; 
 and retreat from the contemplation of sacrifices? There 
 are men who think that every thing can be reconciled, who 
 expect to obtain repose of conscience while gratifying 
 themselves, and who even dare to consider this compromise 
 as a kind of wisdom. Now this is the very thing which 
 causes confusion, and renders motives obscure and doubtful ; 
 for, by having two springs of action at once, we really have 
 no definite motive ; when secretly yielding to one, we per- 
 suade ourselves that we remain faithful to the other; when 
 yielding to personal feeling, we think we are generous, or 
 at least dignified, endeavouring to seduce conscience, or to 
 
56 SELF-EDUCATION, 
 
 disguise what we desire, that we may obtain it without re- 
 morse. Hence arises, in the common circumstances of life, 
 agitation and inquietude ; and, when it is necessary to make 
 great resolutions, embarrassment : the discord resulting from 
 so many different l^desires, not permitting us to collect our 
 ideas and rally our strength. Hence proceeds also a want 
 of all generous self-abandonment ; indecision and embar- 
 rassment in social intercourse ; want of clearness in thought ; 
 and a mode of expression, which is imperfect, insincere, 
 and does not penetrate the soul. The conversation and 
 actions of him, v/ho does not clearly define what he means 
 and thinks, are full of ambiguity. He continually dissem- 
 bles, and even deceives, without expressly intending it, and 
 without expecting any advantage from it; but because he 
 deceives himself first, and perhaps seeks in the illusions, 
 which he makes others believe, a means of confirming what 
 he would like to think real. He is wanting in sincerity in 
 his conversation, because, in his practice, there is no recti- 
 tude of intention. 
 
 This especially happens to those who act with reference 
 to opinion ; for they do not really intend the thing they do, 
 but mean to do that which complies with common prejudices, 
 whatever it may be in itself; yet they wish to appear to act 
 from their own reflective and independent motive ; and thus 
 falsehood is generated. The vain necessarily belie themselves. 
 They deceive themselves and others in regard to their own 
 actions ; for they cannot recognise their ruling principle 
 without contradicting themselves ; they would blush to ac- 
 knowledge it, and be humbled to have it made known. 
 
 There are some wicked men, who are more open and frank 
 in their intentions than those who are half virtuous. To be 
 effeminate and timid in virtue, compromises the character, 
 and makes it insincere. Some people have some rectitude 
 of will in single instances, but have no plan, no general 
 design, which takes in the whole life. Their existence 
 comprises praiseworthy actions, labor, and zeal, — some 
 
RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 57 
 
 pleasures, and repose ; but it has no connexion, and answers 
 to no destiny ; for they have no vocation. Nothing they do is 
 blamable ; but neither is any thing premeditated. In given 
 cases they have very good sentiments, but they reflect little 
 upon the possibility of acting them out in their lives. In 
 every successive situation they go no further than that sit- 
 uation. We must confess, that this is the secret history of 
 most of us : we are born, we grow up, we go, and come, 
 and die, without doing much good or much evil ; but withs- 
 out being able at our last hour to explain why we were 
 placed here below ; our life passes away like a drama, 
 whose scenes are unconnected and tend to no catastrophe. 
 Now from such habits something vague and ambiguous 
 comes upon the character of the will ; especially felt in its 
 most important determinations. It is easy to have simplicif 
 ty of intention in little things ; but it is in great things that 
 it is especially necessary ; for when the intention is not de- 
 fined, difficulty and obstacles are fatal. 
 
 It is natural and just to desire that virtue should be coRr 
 stantly rewarded upon earth. Yet if it were so, perhaps true 
 virtue would be still rarer than it is. There would be a new 
 kind of ambition, which would consist in practising exceir 
 lence externally, as a means of success, and it would find 
 ardent proselytes. Most men, without exactly making a 
 profound and systematic calculation,^ would nevertheless 
 suffer their motives to be influenced ; and this could not 
 happen without affecting the principle of the most praise- 
 worthy resolutions. Good actions themselves would be 
 founded upon mixed and complex intentions ; and without 
 being hypocrites entirely, we should still be no longer sin- 
 cere with ourselves. This is nearly what now happens in 
 the world, in consequence of the consideration which can- 
 not be refused to merit ; and as this consideration and es- 
 teem become more profitable, men will aspire still more to 
 obtain them. In the train of the crafty, who seek to ensnare 
 public esteem with this design, follows a crowds second-rat^ 
 
58 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 as to morality, who, without wishing to usurp favor, put 
 themselves in such a situation, that favor may not be refused 
 them ; and who, while acting well, could not say whether 
 they were doing so for their own esteem, or for the opinion 
 of others ; from the desire of satisfying duty, or from the 
 fear of being undervalued. They seek perhaps to persuade 
 themselves, that the first of these two motives prevails, and 
 their intentions therefore become still more corrupted. It 
 is better to avow openly, that we do right for the sake of 
 succeeding in the world. For even when acting rightly, 
 we lose the merit and pleasure of it, from not preserving 
 right dispositions of the heart. This is why we often dis- 
 cover in ourselves secret inclinations, of whose existence 
 we were hardly aware, and which mingle with our resolu- 
 tions and corrupt their principle. To their hiding-places 
 within us, the Love of Excellence has not penetrated, and 
 carried its vivifying light. 
 
 Then let the Love of Excellence resume the rank which 
 naturally belongs to it ; let it reign unlimitedly ; let it take 
 undivided possession of the soul : let it become our deep, 
 sincere, and exclusive passion ; then clouds will be dispers- 
 ed, doubts will be cleared away, discords will cease, every 
 thing will be simplified ; and man, understanding himself, 
 will know how to act. It is the Love of Excellence which 
 assigns to every thing its true and fixed value ; it is this 
 which establishes subordination and harmony among mo- 
 tives ; this alone gives a plan and general design to life ; 
 it connects together all events, and all circumstances, even 
 the least actions, enabling man to go on to the end with 
 constancy, and to approach it, with the ease and freedom 
 of one who walks in broad day-light through a known coun- 
 try. Advancing in a wide and straight path, he will meet 
 at every step those divisions of by-ways, which cause hesi-- 
 tation about the direction to be pursued ; but as he is guided 
 by a law which has foreseen every thing ; he has only the 
 ^are of employing the means of execution. There is 
 
RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 59 
 
 nothing more constantly animated than a life which flows on 
 under such an influence ; for an incessantly renewing in- 
 terest gives value to every thing; nothing is lost; man goes 
 on step by step, and always looks onward ; the motion is 
 therefore ascending, and carries him every day into a freer 
 atmosphere ; and satisfaction and security increase as he 
 advances. For our souls find content only in what puts us 
 on good terms with ourselves ; we repose on certainty alone ; 
 there is no peace for him, who doubts of and about himself. 
 As no after-thought comes to agitate and disturb resolution, 
 to paralyse energy and belie evident desires, the whole 
 heart is borne along, unconditionally and unreservedly, 
 towards the noble object to which it has consecrated itself 
 with absolute devotedness. Every thing is consistent in 
 motives, decided in ideas, frank in expression, and conse- 
 quently easy, rapid, and opportune in execution. 
 
 What an abundance of life seems to circulate and diff'use 
 itself in the conduct of those who have accomplished the 
 consecration of themselves to excellence ! How full are 
 their days ! How finished are their actions ! How well 
 designed is the form, how clearly marked out is the destina- 
 tion, of all their productions ! How faithful is their character 
 to itself, consistent in the most diverse circumstances ! What 
 ease they have in difficult things ! What elasticity of soul 
 in the presence of sacrifices ! The consideration which 
 they did not desire, or, at least, only aspired to deserve, nat- 
 urally comes to meet them ; for it is necessarily attached 
 to consistent, complete, and decided characters. Besides, 
 n the language of virtue, there are certain accents of truth, 
 certain distinctive tones, which naturally drop from the up- 
 right, who alone can find them, whether they seek them or 
 not, and precisely because they have used no art in their 
 language. 
 
 Veracity is a part of justice ; for as truth is the only true 
 guide of activity, we ought to give it to our fellow-creatures. 
 We owe it to them for another reason ; it is a blessing, 
 
60 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 which belongs to all in common, and in which each one is 
 particularly called to make others participate, because, by 
 communication, so far from weakening the part which has 
 fallen to his own lot, he strengthens it in a thousand ways. 
 But such a duty can only be understood by a man, who has 
 begun to be sincere with himself; the well-intentioned 
 will, naturally without effort or reflection, be true in social 
 intercourse. For the love of truth and the Love Excellence 
 are the same love under different forms, and in different 
 applications. Inspired therefore by Love of Excellence, 
 we render public worship to truth, because we render in- 
 ward homage to it ; we respect it in the relations of society, 
 not only bcause of the benefits which flow from it, and the 
 rights which claim it, but because we venerate it in itself. 
 It is easy to find subtle sophisms to persuade ourselves, that 
 such and such truths are not useful to men ; but there is 
 not one, by the help of which we can dispute, that truth is, 
 in itself, a sacred thing. 
 
 Frankness when observed as a duty, is always constrain- 
 ed and uneasy, and therefore imperfect ; but the love of 
 goodness and truth naturally disposes one to openness, be- 
 cause it leaves no interest in disguising any thing. 
 
 Good intentions are a kind of probity towards one's self; 
 imparting to our relations with others that sustained integ- 
 rity, which, inspiring perfect security, commands from the 
 most frivolous a respectful confidence. 
 
 Men of complicated and double intentions believe them- 
 selves sincere, when they make promises; and think 
 they are not wanting in faith, though they forget what they 
 have promised. Do they really know what engagement 
 they intended to form ? Men, whom the Love of Excel- 
 lence animates, have no need of pledging themselves ; their 
 character is a pledge, their intention is as valuable as a 
 promise, and they will be faithful to it, because they are 
 upright, enlightened, and entire. Let the crafty boast of' 
 their success in a career, the plan of which they have con- 
 
RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 61 
 
 certed with finished art, and in which they have sported the 
 most learned observations upon the means of conquering opin- 
 ion and surprising confidence. It may be, that they attain 
 fortune and honors, and leave far behind them the modest 
 and the peaceable, who confine themselves to the exact ful- 
 filment of their duties. Yet, when we have long and atten- 
 tively observed the world, we discover, that, if not the most 
 brilliant, at least the most certain, stable, easy, and the only 
 desirable success, attends men whose intentions are pure, 
 upright, and constant. By degrees these men are discover- 
 ed and made known, and make immutable and advanta- 
 geous connexions with society ; for they are guarded by a 
 peaceful but deep-founded esteem, which increases and is 
 confirmed every day. Naturally occupying their place, it 
 becomes so much their own, that people hardly dream of 
 taking it from them. But if the cunning man fails, (and 
 how many times he will fail !) how will he be consoled and 
 indemnified ? The man of good intentions may fail without 
 feeling regret, for his intentions still remain to him ; but 
 reverse destroys every thing for the crafty, and at the same 
 time brings him to confusion and shame. The honest man 
 seeks his duty, and he has fulfilled it ; what can he lose ? 
 He acquires, perhaps, one merit more. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 
 
 The more energetic a power is, the more fatal its devia- 
 tions may be, when it is turned from its true end. The 
 aberrations of a virtuous zeal have done as much injury to 
 society, as the conspiracies of the malevolent. Rectitude 
 of intention prevents many errors, and perhaps the greater 
 6 
 
62 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 number ; yet it cannot prevent them all, for it cannot en- 
 tirely make up for the deficiency of knowledge, and it has 
 no influence over prejudices previously formed, and faith- 
 fully preserved : in this case, indeed, it may render errors 
 more tenacious, and practically more dangerous, precisely 
 because the testimony it renders to itself, gives us more se- 
 curity, and makes us more obstinate. 
 
 There are seven principal errors, which seem to concur 
 in leading astray, in different directions, the most sincere 
 Love of Excellence. 
 
 1, Men may form exaggerated ideas with regard to vir- 
 tue, as when they too much forget the conditions in which 
 human nature is placed. Not that the love of virtue in 
 itself can be excessive; for it is founded upon truth itself; 
 and there can be no excess in the conviction which evi- 
 dence gives. Excellence, and the necessity of aiming for 
 it, cannot be exaggerated, but the possibility of entirely and 
 rapidly attaining it may. The hopes also, which spring from 
 the ardor of a zeal to which every thing seems easy, may 
 be excessive ; and things praiseworthy in themselves, but 
 not obligatory, may be transformed into absolute and impe- 
 rious duties. These two exaggerations are quite analogous ; 
 for it is not doubtful, that perfection would be a duty, if it 
 were possible ; and that men are culpable in neglecting 
 what is simply prudent, when it can be easily accomplished. 
 
 From this first error flow two fatal consequences ; one of 
 which directly concerns him who commits it, and the other 
 applies to the relations he bears to his fellow-men. The 
 pure, doubtless, may be ensnared, by this error ; but how 
 desolate it makes them ! how many sufferings it prepares 
 for them ! It deprives them of the just satisfaction, which, 
 as a recompense of their eflibrts, was to support them in new 
 exertions. It saddens and makes them unjust towards 
 themselves ; it converts the most innocent circumstances 
 into a cause of inquietude and fear, and poisons their sweet- 
 est meditations. Souls that are affected by this moral dis- 
 
HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 63 
 
 ease, refine excessively upon the motives of their actions, 
 and end by creating i nTag iii di y faults, through the fear of 
 committing' td*^ ones. They are discouraged and even 
 withered by self-reproach, and by their want of power to re- 
 alize all they impose upon themselves. Some suffer them- 
 selves to be devoured by such remorse for mere negligences, 
 as should be reserved for crime, and from which crime often 
 succeeds in freeing itself. 
 
 It is very common to see this exaggeration affecting men's 
 judgment of others ; for it costs nothing to subject others 
 to severe sentences. Perhaps, without knowing it, they se- 
 cretly yield to an inclination to undervalue merit and to 
 be severe on characters the most eminent in virtue, in or- 
 der to be relieved from the importunity of their example, or 
 to be revenged for the tacit censure pronounced on them- 
 selves. They imitate in morals, those critics of literature 
 and the arts, who are inexorable towards masterpieces, in 
 comparing them with the ideal, and who raise the slightest 
 rules into inviolable laws. This severity of judgment inev- 
 itably cools benevolence, inclines men to forsake their fel- 
 iow-creatures, and leads, in private relations, to a want of 
 indulgence. They think they have only a holy indignation 
 against evil, while they expose themselves to the access of 
 envy and other bitter dispositions. At least, they look up- 
 on all the human race with a gloomy and troubled eye; 
 dishonoring and debasing it in their thoughts ; becoming 
 disgusted with social intercourse; and justifying a misan- 
 thropic disposition, by the dark views they take of general 
 corruption, and of the disorders and the excesses they sup- 
 pose prevalent in society. It is sometimes those who are 
 least true to virtue in their own practice, who hold this 
 disdainful language, deploring the contagion of vice, as if 
 there were no virtue upon earth. We must confess, that 
 moralists, also, have often exaggerated the coloring of the 
 picture ; they have only sought pretexts for condemnation, 
 and they have not studied the redeeming traits of men, 
 
64 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 and often they speak of the world without knowing it. If 
 they lived in its bosom, and observed it with calmness and 
 impartiality, they would be more just; they would acknowl- 
 edge that men are generally less wicked and perverse than 
 they appear ; that goodness of heart predominates ; that it 
 commonly prevails, when nothing comes to oppose its influ- 
 ence, and it can take its natural course ; that this world, 
 which is so much traduced, contains eminent virtues, al- 
 though unremarked ; for men are generally silent about good, 
 but never about evil. It would especially be seen, that lev- 
 ity, impatience, negligence, and want of reflection, cause a 
 great number of those faults, whose effects are so fatal ; and 
 we must judge, in a moral point of view, not from effects, 
 but intentions. It is true we should ever keep our eyes on 
 the sublime summits of perfection, nor cease to aspire after 
 it with all our desires, especially if we would make daily 
 progress. But let us take care not to lose sight of all the 
 obstacles which separate us from that remote end, and ever 
 keep in mind the narrow bounds of our faculties. Let us 
 especially apply these considerations to our fellow-creatures, 
 and gather up, with respect and joy, the scattered, imper- 
 fect, yet precious fruits, which virtue has produced upon 
 earth. Let us not diminish the homage due to great men, 
 by cruelly putting their deficiencies in strong relief. To 
 do them homage, will sustain ourselves ; and he who con- 
 siders what it must have cost them to give immortal exam- 
 ples, will find sufficient to admire, notwithstanding a few 
 blemishes. 
 
 How many times the excessive severity of a false zeal has 
 discouraged and repulsed the timid from the ways of excel- 
 lence, when a little indulgence would have strengthened 
 them by keeping up their hopes of success. How many 
 times the slothful have made this severity • the pretext for 
 refusing every attempt at improvement ! How many times 
 has its morose and peevish expressions led men to misun- 
 derstand virtue, by taking from it its attractions ! 
 
HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 65 
 
 2. Men may deceive themselves about the rank and sub- 
 ordination of the virtues, as well as about their relative im- 
 portance. By granting an arbitrary preeminence, or a too 
 exclusive importance, to some moral rules, we enfeeble or 
 perhaps destroy those, which should concur with, modify, 
 restrain, and sometimes even govern others. One man, 
 exalting himself for public duties, will think he may neglect 
 private virtues ; another, preoccupied with domestic affec- 
 tions, will dispense with what he owes to sbciety. One 
 will imagine he is an honest man, because he is faithful to 
 all the engagements of probity, although he fails in those 
 which govern the more delicate affections ; another, jealous 
 of maintaining the dignity of his character, will be wanting 
 in indulgence towards his fellow-men. One, in his blind 
 zeal for a good cause, may pervert the testimony of truth 
 itself; another, absorbed with the exercises of worship, will 
 forget the claims of his fellow-creatures. It may happen 
 that works of pure supererogation, though praiseworthy, 
 will prevail over rigorous obligations ; for the first act more 
 upon the imagination, and have a more indefinite form. 
 Thus, in doing a generous action, men sometimes forget 
 what justice requires. Duties, in the exercise of which 
 worldly honor is interested, are apt to predominate over 
 those which are so unfortunate as to be obscure. How 
 many people are capable of heroic sacrifices, who neglect 
 purity of character ! They think themselves exempt from 
 the observance of little things, as if it were a vulgar subjec- 
 tion. Each of us has his favorite virtue, and it is the 
 seduction of this virtue, that he must fear, as his peculiar 
 clanger. What is this privileged virtue 1 Is it not that 
 which harmonizes with our temperament and with the nat- 
 ural impulses of our character ; or that, the practice of 
 which is at once easiest and most agreeable ? We are 
 often deluded by thinking ourselves influenced by the purest 
 views, when in reality we only yield to our habitual incli- 
 nations. One man praises goodness of heart, because he is 
 6* 
 
66 SELF-«DUCATION. 
 
 weak ; another celebrates courage, because he is impetuous. 
 Our favorite virtue may perhaps be that, which has most 
 relation with the habits of our profession ; it may be that in 
 which we perceive most personal advantage. How we 
 admire in others those virtues, by which we profit ! Thus 
 those who have power, cannot sufficiently exalt submission, 
 as the avaricious do not cease to extol economy to their ser- 
 vants. 
 
 In certain virtues, there are also required, in particular 
 circumstances, extraordinary efforts; and thus the will 
 must concentrate all its energy upon a single point. If such 
 an effort should be prolonged or repeated too frequently, 
 the will would at last find itself wanting in other respects. 
 There are some moral austerities, which, thus carried to 
 excess, become a sort of mutilation ; and as we shut our 
 eyes so as to understand better, the soul is deprived of a 
 portion of its faculties, that it may unfold the rest more 
 entirely. Thus there is an apparent heroism, which can only 
 be purchased by this mutilation ; when those, who are heroes 
 in the world, appear small to those with whom they are 
 familiar, the latter are not alv»?ays deceived. Let us not 
 pretend to extraordinary things, nor aim at being heroes 
 every day, and on every occasion. Let us not engage our- 
 selves gratuitously in trials, which demand such high reso- 
 lutions ! It is enough when they come of themselves. Let' 
 us place our resolutions upon a broad basis ! Let us act 
 in such a manner that all our faculties may harmoniously 
 concur in the great work. 
 
 3. But the most fatal of all errors, is to suppose that the 
 end consecrates the means. Blindly preoccupied with an 
 end which is praiseworthy in itself, men often perceive 
 nothing else, and every thing becomes admissible for its 
 attainment. This mistake takes a thousand forms, accord- 
 ing to the nature of the predominating idea, which thus 
 takes captive all the moral faculties ; but whatever form it 
 adopts, its consequences are the same; the idol may be 
 
HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 67 
 
 different, but the sacrifice is similar ; nature, the interests 
 and rights of humanity, will be given up to it without pity. 
 When this atrocious morality is once instituted, all the 
 passions flock in crowds to take refuge under its unexpect- 
 ed protection ; ambition, envy, and hatred, are indulged 
 under this safeguard, and, usurping the honors which be- 
 long to zeal for excellence, they become a thousand times 
 more fatal in consequence of this sacrilege. Left to them- 
 selves, and obliged to appear in their own form, they would 
 at least have been opposed and condemned ; internal repro- 
 bation and a just shame would have moderated their in- 
 fluence, or prepared their remedy. But the kind of excess 
 which is subservient to our cause is justified and gloried in ; 
 men are confirmed in it by the authority of the sacred duty 
 to which they pretend to devote themselves unreservedly ; 
 and thus do evil conscientiously. They may then be cruel, 
 while uttering virtuous words, and even while thinking they 
 have the purest intentions, and may glory in their inflexi- 
 bility. Such a fanaticism is much more inexorable than 
 avarice, ambition, or fury; the latter can leave some access 
 open to pity, and might yield to a more powerful interest ; 
 in a word, the victim might obtain favor. But what favor 
 can be expected from him, who regards it a duty to sacri- 
 fice compassion itself, and to harden his heart; — from him 
 who knows nothing superior, and nothing equal, to the con- 
 siderations he obeys, and who sees in them an imperious 
 and absolute law ? This kind of fanaticism will not always 
 be ardent and impetuous, as we should be tempted to be- 
 lieve ; it will often wear an appearance of calmness and 
 equanimity ; a desperate appearance, because it denotes its 
 immutability. It is enough if the exclusive idea become 
 fixed and habitual. He who is given up to such an error, 
 remains sincere and perhaps gentle in the midst of violence. 
 He smiles almost while he strikes. What an error, great 
 God ! is that, which, rendering virtue an accomplice of 
 crime, makes it odious upon earth ! 
 
68 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 4. Sometimes, on the contrary, men may take the means 
 for the end : this mistake is much more common. Concen- 
 trating all their respect upon the instrument, they forget its 
 destination, and continue to cling to it with the same force, 
 when it no longer serves the same purpose. They suppose 
 it has an absolute value, when it has only a relative merit. 
 There are some very useful practices in certain places, at 
 certain times, in certain circumstances, which lose their 
 utility and may even be disadvantageous in a different state 
 of things. Some practices are useful to certain persons, 
 and indifferent and hurtful to others ; like the remedies and 
 dietetic prescriptions which the art of medicine recom- 
 mends. This error resembles the very common prejudice, 
 which aims at making a universal panacea of certain prep- 
 arations, and a regimen for all temperaments and all ages. 
 This is the error of men of low and limited minds, who, 
 not penetrating into the meaning of the moral law, can 
 perceive only the preparatory means of execution. 
 
 5. Men may also take the sign for the thing signified, and 
 give the former all the importance which they ought to grant 
 to the latter. Morality has not only direct expressions, but 
 also infinitely various symbols, which borrow its dignity and 
 recall its sacred image. Then happens what so often hap- 
 pens in religion ; v/orship insensibly degenerates into idola- 
 try. The mistake is easy and often innocent. But when 
 the sign is separated from the thing, the thing is forgotten, 
 and the sign alone remains, with the idea of duty still ad- 
 hering to it. Through association, the notion of excellence 
 is arbitrarily transferred to things which are only connect- 
 ed with it accidentally ; and artificial duties are created, 
 to which men attach absolute importance, and impose upon 
 others. It is not unexampled to put these factitious duties 
 in the first rank, as if they received a peculiar recommen- 
 dation from our instituting them ourselves. Sometimes 
 these factitious duties are derived from a tacit and recipro- 
 cal convention of society, presiding over manners, and com- 
 
HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 69 
 
 posing as many codes as there can be states of society. 
 This morality of pure human creation is in extreme danger 
 of involving all the errors, which man falls into in his works. 
 It may sanction and prescribe things, which are cul- 
 pable in themselves. And even when it exalts into virtue 
 things simply useless, it is productive of serious disadvan- 
 tage ; for this factitious morality is, in practice, often met 
 with in combination with real ; and as it cannot harmonize 
 with it, there will be a sad struggle between them, in which 
 real morality will not always triumph. Moreover, as we are 
 only gifted with a measure of strength, by which to obtain 
 excellence, and as the measure is very small, we should not 
 run the risk of half exhausting it to satisfy arbitrary laws ; 
 like those imprudent men, who, enjoying a moderate for- 
 tune, spend their all in trifles, and find themselves after- 
 wards deprived of necessaries. Conscience does not give 
 warning of this error, for it rests in having accomplished 
 the task imposed of external exercises, and thus the virtues 
 are left uncultivated, and decorum takes the place of duties. 
 6. Men are easily induced also to convert into an abso- 
 lute and universal rule, the suggestion which was only in- 
 tended to apply to certain cases, and which was to be fol- 
 lowed only under certain essential conditions, and within 
 certain determinate limits. This arises from the natural 
 propensity, which inclines the human mind to generalize 
 unreservedly, and assimulate without precaution ; and this 
 danger is increased if the rule is presented in an abstract 
 and concise form, which singularly strengthens this error 
 of the reason. We might make a very extraordinary col- 
 lection of abstract maxims, which, though praiseworthy in 
 themselves, when conceived under certain restrictions, 
 have nevertheless served to ravage the world, because 
 thrown into society, and given up to the passions : there is 
 no crime, which has not found in some one of them a pre- 
 text, or a means of apology. Those simple formulas, which, 
 speculatively considered, are not dangerous, and which 
 
70 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 beam with all the brightness that the moral idea they ex- 
 press possesses, have a magic power to excite and transmit 
 enthusiasm with astonishing rapidity. Like lightning, 
 which furrows the cloud, they dazzle us; and, thinking we 
 comprehend beforehand every application, we make mis- 
 takes. Many people have certain axioms of this kind, 
 which they have composed for themselves ; it might be said, 
 that they employ them as a kind of moral talisman, which 
 is to be sufficient for them in every thing, and to the power 
 of which, every thing must yield, even evidence itself. 
 
 7. When we are animated by the Love of Excellence, 
 we are not satisfied to pursue it ourselves ; we wish excel- 
 lence to be extended in its influence, and its worship ac- 
 knowledged. We feel an ardent and noble desire, that 
 other men should share a treasure of infinite value ; for we 
 cherish excellence as the common inheritance of the human 
 race. But in this generosity, we may make mistakes ; in 
 our impatience we may mistake the extent of our rights ; 
 instead of limiting ourselves to the use of means, which are 
 proper to the cause of excellence, that is, to knowledge 
 which enlightens, and sentiment which persuades, we may 
 be led to employ those which also serve the cause of the 
 passions ; we may become importunate, perhaps oppressive, 
 perhaps persecuting ; we may torment others, as if we had 
 some other office than that of exhibiting virtue to make it 
 loved, or were invested with authority to obtain submission 
 to its decrees. When controversies are entered into, in 
 regard to the application of moral truths, this kind of error 
 may become still more fatal ; for we may spend upon con-~ 
 troversial points all the earnestness which should belong 
 to first principles ; and may forget, that they can be sepa- 
 rated from one another. Thus a passage is opened for the 
 subtle passions of vanity and pride, which mingle with and 
 corrupt zeal itself. Hence will spring the animosity of 
 quarrels, prejudice, and injustice ; and a wall of separation 
 will be raised between men, who were niade to esteem one 
 
HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 71 
 
 another, while the enemies of virtue rejoice at the desperate 
 contest.* 
 
 The Love of Excellence may also err in application, in 
 the same manner as every doctrine, how wise and certain 
 soever it may be, in itself, is subject to error, when it comes 
 into practice ; that is, because we mistake the particular 
 points, which serve as a basis for the application. This is 
 a kind of error, which may occur in every state of circum- 
 stances, and against which there is no general precaution 
 to be used, unless it be to take care to observe narrowly in 
 the first place, and afterwards to examine scrupulously what 
 we think we have observed ; and to distrust ourselves. 
 
 Does Love of Excellence deceive us in all this? No. It 
 is we who deceive ourselves, by perverting, confounding, 
 or transposing the notions and rules which flow from it. 
 The feeling is still pure and lawful, although the judgment 
 may err, and the feeling, turned in a wrong direction, may 
 be directed against the end that it has proposed to itself. 
 But it might be said, that when the Love of Excellence errs, 
 it is because it is as yet imperfect ; for it errs for want of 
 knowing its end clearly, and for want of completely enter- 
 ing into the spirit of the holy inspirations which should 
 guide it. When the Love of Excellence is profound, true, 
 entire, and perfectly sincere, it becomes a light, or at least 
 it favors and invokes light. In morality we are rarely inno- 
 cent of our errors. 
 
 ^ Sometimes men confound, or affect to confound, tolerance with indif- 
 ference in matters of opinion or belief But these notions are essential- 
 ly distinct. Indifference consists in looking upon opinions as equally 
 doubtful, at least as equally good or innocent in themselves. Tolerance 
 consists in abstaining from condemning, as guilty of evil intention, those 
 who profess opinions, which we consider false or pernicious. Therefore 
 we can have the most ardent zeal for truth, and the most entire toler- 
 ance for persons. We can detest error, and cherish him who deceives 
 himself : in which case we shall have more means of undeceiving him. 
 
SECTION 11. 
 
 FRUITS OF SELF-GOVERNMENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 POWER OVER INCLINATION. 
 
 There is a kind of self-government, which the world 
 praises because it is accommodated by it. Thus in social 
 intercourse, we acquire the habit of regulating our man- 
 ners ; avoiding to show in our external actions the vivacity 
 of our first emotions, or to give ourselves up to effeminate 
 and low habits. But by thus regulating our bearing and 
 language, we only govern our organs, and the secret pas- 
 sions often acquire more energy from being shut up in the 
 depth of the heart. This self-government, also, may be the 
 strength of vanity and falsehood, and not the energy of vir- 
 tue. The deceitful excel in the art of repressing external 
 expressions of passion, that they may in reality indulge 
 them more freely. 
 
 But the true power of self-government is that which man 
 exercises over his own will. It is the principle of the 
 strong-minded ; and although it is only the instrument of 
 virtue, it is eminently moral. For man is amoral being inas- 
 much as he is a cause, morality lying in his mode of action 
 as a cause. 
 
 The scientific arts, by which the external activity of man 
 is exercised, are so many levers of the power which governs 
 and rules material nature, and subjects it to our wants and 
 desires. The art, according to which we exercise internal 
 activity, is the lever of the power which governs and rules 
 our inclinations, and subjects them to the interests of our 
 happiness, that is, to the laws of excellence. This is the 
 greatest of all arts : it is wisdom. 
 
POWER OVER INCLINATION. 
 
 73 
 
 In order to conceive the power by which man governs his 
 inclinations, we will in the first place consider his sensa- 
 tions and simplest imaginings, for the laws of these modifi- 
 cations of his mind are most easily understood. 
 
 1. It is not in our power to create any sensation of which 
 our organs are not susceptible ; but there are a great num- 
 ber of sensations, from which we cannot escape, and a great 
 many which we can excite or suppress at pleasure ; as by 
 opening or shutting our eyes. We cannot conceive of a 
 simple sensation that we have not felt, or which we have 
 forgotten ; while on the other hand, sometimes we are una- 
 ble to banish an image which besets us, or to break up an 
 association of ideas, which is strongly cemented by habit. 
 Yet it generally depends upon ourselves, whether the image 
 grow fainter and disappear ; i. e. whether we avoid occa- 
 sions of recalling it, or seek to reproduce the signs which 
 may renew it. It is also in our power to group images in 
 a thousand new and different ways ; for our power over 
 images is much greater than that over sensations, because 
 the instruments which the mind uses to create the first, are 
 much more numerous, and the combinations they can form 
 are infinite. 
 
 2. When sensations or images are present with us, and 
 cannot be avoided, their relative and even absolute inten- 
 sity is increased or enfeebled by our desire to observe them 
 or not. The impressions they make are therefore modified. 
 This influence is more extensively exercised over those 
 images which are more particularly the consequence of our 
 own activity ; and this explains how the direct and multi- 
 plied efforts we make to struggle against certain inclina- 
 tions, sometimes contribute to render their action upon us 
 more powerful and importunate, rendering our triumph 
 more difficult : it is because we redouble our attention to 
 the image, while wishing to banish it. 
 
 3. Finally, although sensations and images may be pres- 
 ent with us, and their intensity be very great, independently 
 
 7 
 
74 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 of the circumstance of our attention or inattention, we 
 can prevent them from invading that part of our nature, 
 where the springs of Will are in play. This part of our 
 nature is the region of cool deliberation. It is where our 
 intellectual and moral self dwells; it is where we retire, 
 when we take the cup which contains a bitter potion, or 
 when we leave our limbs in the hands of the surgeon. 
 
 Hence we perceive, that the soul unfolds three powers 
 over purely sensual inclinations : a physical power of put- 
 ting ourselves in the way of them or not ; a mental power 
 of attending or not attending to them ; and a moral power 
 of assent or of absolute rejection. For the attraction which 
 draws us towards agreeable sensations, and the repugnance 
 which repels those that are painful, are so inseparable from 
 received impressions, that we cannot free ourselves from 
 either. The soul also unfolds analogous powers over the 
 affections, a still more energetic part of our nature. 
 
 Self-government, then, consists of three principal branch- 
 es ; the art of foresight and economy in regard to the aver- 
 sions which excite or repel our inclinations ; a positive in- 
 fluence over the intensity of those inclinations ; and finally 
 an open struggle to master them. 
 
 The first might be compared to the administrative de- 
 partment in political government ; the second, to the offices 
 which the magistrate exercises ; and the third, to the em- 
 ployment of public force by a well constituted community. 
 
 1. The affections are strengthened either by the actual 
 presence of objects, or by the remembrances which preserve 
 their images, or by the manner in which these objects are 
 considered : for it is often sufficient to change the view we 
 take of objects, in order to change entirely the sentiments 
 they call forth : the same man, for example, is offered under 
 two different aspects to his friends and enemies, and it 
 often happens that these aspects are equally just, although 
 each is incomplete. This observation leads to prudence 
 and precaution; by the help of which we may go back to 
 
POWER OVER INCLINATION. 70 
 
 the origin of the impressions we receive, and excite, pre- 
 serve, or slacken the movements of an affection : and as 
 different affections, according to their relations to each oth- 
 er, or according to their different tendencies, may recipro- 
 cally aid, or may balance one another, a prudent wisdom 
 uses the means employed to govern each of them, to react 
 indirectly upon the others. Wisdom will also prevent ex- 
 aggeration, by taking care that objects do not prepossess 
 us in too exclusive a manner ; and give new aliment to the 
 affections, when they are inclined to fail, by concentrating 
 attention, and preventing or dissipating the false prejudi- 
 ces which arise from the arbitrary transformations, by which 
 the imagination perverts objects. It restores things to their 
 simple reality, and rectifies the imperfect judgments which 
 have been passed upon them, by exhibiting them in every 
 point of view. It especially strives to stop, in their begin- 
 ning, all the false associations of ideas, which might coun- 
 tenance bad passions, and to strengthen those associations 
 which are reasonable, and conducive to praiseworthy senti- 
 ments. This is rather a principle of conduct, or an exer- 
 cise of foresight, than the practice of virtue ; but if it be 
 not virtue itself, it is a kind of common wisdom, employed 
 in the service of virtue, and like a tutelary guardian, is 
 awake to all circumstances, whether expected or not, meas- 
 uring their influence, seeking the means to modify it, and 
 thus avoiding the dangers of which the moral sentiment 
 gives the signal ; or, at least, preparing the aid which the 
 moral sentiment recommends. 
 
 2. The affections suppose a still more active cooperation 
 of the soul than simple individual sensation ; hence arises a 
 very highly important phenomenon, although it is not always 
 clearly observed ; it is this : that attention to the object 
 gives new impetuosity to an affection, while, by refusing our 
 consent, we gradually lessen its energy. We very plainly 
 observe this in anger, for instance. We cannot help feeling 
 anger to a certain degree ; but when at this point, we can 
 
76 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 remain simple spectators of our own agitation, as if it were 
 another's, without cooperating in it at all by our consent; 
 and then we shall see ourselves grow calm. At other times, 
 on the contrary, a passion does not result from exaggerated 
 strength, but from weakness and moral prostration. Then 
 by calling back the energy of the soul, and applying it to 
 sentiments capable of balancing the received impression, 
 we succeed in preventing its influence. This is what we 
 observe in ourselves, when in the presence of danger.* 
 Thus the instinctive affections, although in their origin in- 
 dependent of the will, through its concurrence obtain gradu- 
 ally a new degree of vehemence, or, if not seconded, grow 
 cool. We may even succeed in creating a species of artifi- 
 cial affections ; but they possess little force or duration, if 
 they be not engrafted upon the first. By artificial affections 
 we do not mean the reflective affections, which belong to 
 moral sentiments. Artificial affections have no root in our 
 nature, and are only the production of an excited and heat- 
 ed imagination. Reflective affections, on the contrary, 
 have their source in the inmost soul ; we do not create 
 them, we only favor their birth and progress by a peaceful 
 and constant meditation. We arbitrarily give forms and 
 coloring to the objects of the first ; in the objects of the 
 second we discover inherent properties, which are shrouded 
 with a veil, that levity and inattention do not penetrate. 
 
 Purely instinctive inclinations have one thing in common 
 with these artificial affections which are produced by the 
 play of the imagination : both are favored by the effect 
 of surprise, and are irritated by the opposition arising from 
 material obstacles. Generally, also, they are most violent 
 in their commencement, decreasing in the lapse of time, 
 and ending in satiety. It is quite different with the senti- 
 
 * All strictly psychological details are avoided in this work ; in which 
 moral philosophy is made to rest upon experience : therefore phenomena 
 so strictly united as those of the will and the intellect are not analysed. 
 In the same manner, agriculture is abstracted from natural science. 
 
 i 
 
POWER OVER INCLINATION. 77 
 
 ments that result from reflection, and are cherished by the 
 Love of Excellence ; feeble in their origin, they become 
 strong in proportion as they are prolonged : they are also 
 more vivid as they are better enjoyed, receiving their ener- 
 gy from themselves, and not from the contrast of circum- 
 stances. They are fully under the power of internal activi- 
 ty ; from this alone they spring, and by this they triumph. 
 Thus in the struggle of the soul against the inclinations to 
 which it is subjected by its passive condition, it still has 
 this advantage ; that it can oppose sentiments to them, 
 which are at its own disposal, and the principle of which 
 is found in itself; and it may raise these sentiments to the 
 highest degree of vigor ; so that while the former decline, 
 the latter will be constantly strengthened. 
 
 We have said that instinctive passions are irritated by 
 obstacles which proceed from material objects, or by causes 
 simply contrary. They are calmed, on the contrary, by 
 those which the moral law, clearly manifested, opposes to 
 them ; and even when they are not reduced to absolute 
 silence, their language becomes more timid and modest. 
 There is a peculiar power in moral law over the tempests 
 of the heart, and the disorderly tumult of the senses. The 
 spirit of order and peace, of which it is the messenger, 
 seems to insinuate itself into the agitated and troubled soul, 
 and puts all its elements in their proper place. So the ap- 
 proach of popular fury is delayed by the mere appearance of 
 a grave and venerable man, even before he has spoken con- 
 ciliatory words. A painful wound, which, when it is occa- 
 sioned by a simple accident, or by the hand of an enemy, 
 excites a decided emotion of irritation, seems tempered 
 when the pain is imposed by duty. Simple necessity (that 
 physical necessity, which seems to be a decree of fate) 
 sometimes humbles us, because it leaves no hope of any 
 usful resistance ; and sometimes irritates us, also, in pro- 
 portion as there is no hope ; sometimes, even when we 
 submit to it, the submission is bitter and sullen, like that 
 7* 
 
78 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 we yield to tyranny. But moral law subdues without hum- 
 bling, because it raises our soul instead of discouraging it, 
 and the submission it obtains is delightful to ourselves, be- 
 cause it is voluntary. True self-government moderates our 
 very inclinations ; for, as we have remarked, this govern- 
 ment is not force merely, nor is it arbitrary ; it is stamped 
 with real authority, the authority of reason and virtue, of 
 which, in commanding ourselves, we become the ministers. 
 He who seeks to govern himself from the mere motive of sat- 
 isfying his pride, or some other material interest, will suc- 
 ceed when this motive is stronger than his inclinations ; but 
 he will not possess the secret of that active and hidden power 
 which penetrates into the source of the inclination itself 
 and modifies the original impulse. He is like a capricious 
 despot loading a slave with chains ; and not like the magis- 
 trate who is respected by those he governs. He does not 
 command, he does violence to himself; he produces a shock, 
 but does not exercise a power. 
 
 We complain perpetually of the tyranny of the passions. 
 We need only complain of ourselves, for, by neglecting the 
 power which belongs to us, we become accomplices of their 
 violence, and thus make heavier the yoke, under which we 
 pretend to groan, and which we ourselves may lighten. 
 
 3. Prudence and care rarely succeed in preventing, or 
 in turning aside more than one wrong inclination ; but 
 there is no heart, how pure and honest soever it may be, 
 which is not beset at certain moments on all sides with 
 extreme importunity, or surprised unexpectedly by a more 
 or less violent attack. Then art is not sufficient ; we must 
 have courage, vigor, boldness, and constancy. Here we 
 must display the third power. This is the time for open 
 combat and victory. Then, whatever the assault upon our 
 will may be, it will not shake the ramparts ; the enemy can- 
 not penetrate into the sanctuary where we dwell, unless 
 we consent to give him access. We are free so long as we 
 do not capitulate ; consequently we are all powerful ; for 
 
POWER OVER INCLINATION. 79 
 
 our determinations spring from ourselves alone, and our 
 actions will submit to our own voice and no other. Incli- 
 nations merely solicit us, and we are innocent of them so 
 long as we do not favor them ; when they redouble their 
 intreaties, our merit may be increased ; when they seem to 
 threaten most to bring us to shame and servitude, we learn 
 all the extent of our power, and all the grandeur of our 
 nature. The struggle would doubtless be unequal, if the 
 will presented itself alone, unarmed, and resisting for the 
 vain pleasure of showing its independence ; or if its allies 
 were other inclinations of the same nature, inconstant, or 
 weak ; but it receives the aid of a superior and moral pow- 
 er. We oppose the Love of Excellence to solicitation, and 
 duty to desire. It is when we are clothed with this virtu- 
 ous dignity, that resistance take its most imposing charac- 
 ter. This trial will doubtless be difficult, and long ; but 
 what is the recompense? It is one which explains all the 
 destiny of man ; for it comprises the secret of his morality 
 and happiness. 
 
 The exercise of each of these three branches of self-gov- 
 ernment depends in part upon circumstances, and partly 
 upon the individual character and dispositions, which may 
 render either one of them more necessary or more easy. 
 But it is useful to combine them as much as possible. 
 When united, they form a complete system of internal gov- 
 ernment : and our nature is so weak, the enemies of our 
 happiness are so numerous and terrible, that we are not 
 allowed to neglect any aid. The grand art of securing 
 our triumph in those extraordinary circumstances which 
 require all our courage, depends, in the greatest measure, 
 upon the care we take to enter the field of battle, properly 
 prepared, and in possession of all our arms. 
 
 Self-government, after all, however, is only a means of ex- 
 ecution, which must be subjected to the Love of Excel- 
 lence, to which it is destined to minister. So in political 
 governments, public power, under its three principal forms, 
 
80. SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 is Still but an organ of the laws, employed to secure their 
 triumph. And we should constantly consider this great 
 moral power in this its most essential relation. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LIMITS AND MODERATION. 
 
 Man is a finite being, who tends towards infinity. He is 
 in a narrow sphere, and continually aspires to enlarge it. 
 In this tendency there is something just and laudable, but 
 it may go astray. All that is right in it, should be resolved 
 into means of perfection ; and all that is wrong, repressed by 
 moderation. It is for the Love of Excellence to remove 
 those limitations which are obstacles ; and, for self-govern- 
 ment to preserve those which are a protection. By the 
 former, we satisfy the essential desires of our nature, and 
 answer to the future; and by the latter, we conform to 
 the present conditions of our being. 
 
 The limitations which we are called on to remove are 
 those, which our ignorance, efi'eminacy, and vicious inclina- 
 tions have placed around us ; but we are called upon to re- 
 spect those which the general laws of nature or of society 
 have established. The first are, however, those which we 
 dare not pass ; and the second we try to break through. We 
 stop before obstacles of our own raising ; and attempt to do 
 violence to destiny, instead of trusting in the guardian 
 boundaries, which nature has placed around our fragile ex- 
 istence. 
 
 All order in the physical, in the intellectual, and in the 
 moral world, results from proper limitations justly respected. 
 The mechanical lever acts only as long as it meets with 
 resistance in the fulcrum. No material force is kept up any 
 
LIMITS AND MODERATION. 
 
 81 
 
 longer than there is a moderator ; and it becomes more 
 energetic in proportion as it is better restrained.* Even 
 the harmony of celestial movements is owing to the recipro- 
 cal attractions, which, presenting opposing obstacles to their 
 course, retain each body in its orbit. So in society the power 
 of industry arises from respect to property ; individual wealth 
 from economy ; and social as well as physical order is con- 
 sequent upon the balance of action and resistance. Polit- 
 ical power is founded upon respect for laws, and preserved 
 by the very obstacles, which the securities, given to indi- 
 vidual and collective rights, oppose to private ambition and 
 to the wrong use of power. So the rays of the sun, strik- 
 ing upon objects, reveal them by being reflected from their 
 surfaces, and we only know matter by its resistance. Per- 
 ceptions become distinct, and consequently objects of com- 
 parison, by the boundaries which separate them from one 
 another ; forms are determined by the lines which termi- 
 nate them ; and quantities by the degrees to which they are 
 limited. All harmony is the result of relations exactly esti- 
 mated, and relations are estimated only so far as they can 
 be measured, and measure is the application of reciprocal 
 limits. In a word, every thing is vague, uncertain, and 
 confused, until limitations have been placed and acknowl- 
 edged. 
 
 It is also necessary that the will of man fix some starting 
 point, and that it stop seasonably, in order to grasp the end. 
 Privation guards pleasure, and abstinence protects virtue. 
 Every rampart is a boundary as well as defence. The soul 
 is strengthened by the habit of respect, and the action of 
 free and intelligent beings agrees with the general harmony, 
 because we fix for ourselves limitations on the model of 
 those, with which we come in contact. Moderation is in 
 itself a power, peaceable, regular, constant, and invincible ; 
 
 * The celebrated Joseph Montgolfier was accustomed to trace back the 
 principle of all grand discoveries in mechanism, to the art of imprison- 
 ing forces. 
 
82 . SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 a power destined to restrain the energy and activity of the 
 soul within the confines, which answer, on one side, to the 
 reach of our facuUies, and, on the other, to the objects 
 which are assigned them ; a power which checks us that 
 we may be capable of acting better, and which represses 
 our aberrations, that we may more successfully go on in the 
 right direction. We here meet with one of those dispensa- 
 tions of Providence, which we cannot sufficiently admire : 
 this moderation, which is the secret of virtue, is also the 
 secret of happiness. Sobriety is the first condition even of 
 sensual pleasures. " Use without abusing " is a rule, which 
 comprises all the counsels of prudence. In the external 
 world there is only a given provision of materials for pleas- 
 ure ; in the internal world, only a certain capacity to re- 
 ceive it ; our desires and fears embrace an indefinite sphere, 
 because they mount on the wings of the imagination, which 
 creates for itself new regions beyond the compass of reali- 
 ties, and renders present enjoyment more keen and exqui- 
 site when the spur of desire is still felt ; while, if the shadow 
 of fear appears, we become more strongly attached to what 
 we possess. Reality must be mingled with expectation, and 
 the present live upon the future. Voluntary temperance 
 unites with sensual enjoyments a delicate sentiment, which, 
 arising from the consciousness of our own liberty, height- 
 ens its value. We relish pleasure in proportion as we gov- 
 ern it, instead of being governed by it. Hence arise those 
 joys, so innocent, pure, varied, and inexhaustible, which 
 are the privilege of those in mediocrity. Privation continu- 
 ally enhances their enjoyments, because it prevents satiety ; 
 every object is of more worth, because of use ; every thing 
 is fruitful, and nothing burthensome. How remarkable, 
 that the limitations of property should render the enjoyment 
 of it almost infinite ! * The opulent please and refresh 
 
 * The extraordinary man, who, at the commencement of this age, 
 was for a time the most powerful upon earth, said one day to the author 
 of this work, that he could not conceive of the enjoyment of property, 
 
LIMITS AND MODERATION. 83 
 
 themselves, by seeking in poetry the representation of a 
 happiness, which flies from them and takes refuge in the 
 cottage. Obscurity also has its charms; relieving the 
 burning anxieties of self-love, and giving a kind of inde- 
 pendence. In obscurity, as well as in mediocrity, there is 
 repose and secret satisfaction ; for, being freed from vain 
 desires, harmony between our situation and the narrow 
 proportions of our terrestrial existence is restored. 
 
 Inclinations are not bad of themselves. They become 
 vicious only by the aberrations and excesses, which lead 
 them from their legitimate objects, or destroy the proportion 
 which should subsist between them. Morality should be 
 understood only to repress natural inclinations. The power 
 of man over his inclinations is given to regulate, not to 
 destroy them. They are useful, and it is by morality that 
 they are to be preserved so ; for it is morality which pre- 
 scribes to them their just limits ; but the government of 
 them becomes more difficult in this view, for these limits 
 are not easy to estimate or to preserve. We sometimes 
 succeed better in stifling, than in checking, the impetuosity 
 of emotion ; and we can remain inactive more easily, than 
 we can restrain ourselves while in action. 
 
 Struck with the consideration, that the inclinations lead 
 us astray, and become corrupted by not attaining, or by 
 going beyond, their proper objects, Confucius and Aristotle 
 have made virtue consist in a just medium. If we were to 
 take this definition in its literal sense, the two philosophers 
 would seem to take the eff'ect for the cause. But they, 
 perhaps, meant to designate the cause by the eff'eci, and 
 then their definition should be rendered in other terms ; 
 making virtue consist in self-government, of which modera- 
 tion is the fruit, and consequently the characteristic sign. 
 
 and he explained it by saying that he possessd every thing. It is 
 necessary to say, however, that he added, he enjoyed having every thing 
 to give. 
 
84 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Passionate men delude themselves, and glory in their 
 aberrations, imputing them to a supposed power ; as if there 
 were any reflection in the emotion which leads them astray. 
 What is a power passing into us without arising from reflec- 
 tion, or belonojinff to ourselves? What is its merit? In 
 the opinion of passionate men, moderation is cowardice, 
 indecision, or indolence. Such is the constant language of 
 political parties. According to them, one has no opinion of 
 his own, unless he runs into extremes. Partisans have not 
 sarcasms enough to heap upon the wise and just citizens, 
 who are strangers to every sentiment but that of the love of 
 the public good ; they are indignant at that calm reason, 
 which, by its silence and its attitude alone, pronounces 
 censure upon them. Whenever political moderation is 
 imputed to crime, or ridiculed, we may be sure that the 
 state is the subject of faction, or the prey of party spirit. 
 Passions are contagious : to be led astray, it is enough to 
 yield to a received impulse, that is, it is enough to obey ; 
 but in order to resist, we must keep free, and consequently 
 be our own masters. 
 
 A gross mistake can alone confound the insensibility of 
 selfishness with the moderation of virtue ; selfishness resists, 
 indeed, but resists generous emotions only ; moderation 
 resists the exaltations of personal feeling ; selfishness is 
 inactive, moderation calm ; selfishness bears no fruit, 
 moderation prevents the excesses which would destroy us. 
 
 Agitation and violence may proceed from extreme sensi- 
 bility ; but they are always a sign of moral weakness. 
 W^eak characters, given up without defence to events, and 
 to other men, are moved, but do not move themselves ; they 
 have impetuosity, but no aim ; and thus become the sport of 
 continual change. Every thing goes by chance, and con- 
 sequently all is confusion and disorder within them. Their 
 impulses are contradictory in their succession, because they 
 have no regulator. Their rashness is blind, and their dis- 
 couragement is absolute, because they trust in artificial power, 
 
LIMITS AND MODERATION. 85 
 
 and think they possess what they only borrow ; and they 
 are left without resources when it abandons them. 
 
 In consequence of an analogous mistake, we sometimes 
 take indecision for impartiality, because hesitation and 
 doubt prevent us from choosing between two contrary deter- 
 minations. But true impartiality, which is the result of 
 moderation, does not consist in not determining, but in reg- 
 ulating our determinations by the real merit of things ; not 
 in immobility, but in choice ; not in negativeness, but in 
 just proportion. It is firm, because convinced. There is 
 no more solid union than that which is founded upon har- 
 mony of relations, and the exact agreement of reciprocal 
 conditions. Impartiality does not judge between error and 
 truth, and good and evil; but between the contrary exag- 
 gerations, which corrupt truth and excellence by a mixture 
 of evil and error. 
 
 Indecision of mind may doubtless sometimes arise from 
 conscious and self-confessed ignorance ; but there is on the 
 other hand, nothing more positive than presumptuous igno- 
 rance. The indecision which is most difficult to cure, and 
 which is really a mental disease, proceeds from narrowness 
 of intellectual vision, united to a certain subtlety in the 
 manner of perceiving ; there being just enough penetration 
 to see by turns all sides of a subject without enough power 
 to embrace and sum up the whole at once. When an unde- 
 cided mind ceases to doubt, it becomes positive ; thus skep- 
 ticism is resolved into a blind credulity, and credulity into 
 skepticism ; and we see these two dispositions sometimes 
 unite and qualify each other. 
 
 Indecision of will arises from indifference ; it is the con- 
 sequence of a lethargic weakness, which takes all power 
 from motives. In certain cases, it is also the sad conse- 
 quence of a blind self-love ; for sometimes the law of moral- 
 ity and the love of virtue can alone turn the balance between 
 contrary inclinations ; between the advantages we may 
 hope from a courageous resolution, and the sacrifices it 
 8 
 
yb SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 demands. The elevated,, however, sometimes, show an 
 indecision about little things, which astonishes the vulgar, 
 and makes them smile. It is because the latter do not 
 understand indifference to interests which are so important 
 to the frivolous. Weak minds, on the contrary, hesitate 
 about weighty and serious things ; because they are too 
 heavy for them to lift. 
 
 Exaggeration in ideas is a consequence of precipitation 
 of mind ; it is for reflection to circumscribe. Now, precipi- 
 tation, like impatience, is a sign of weakness. 
 
 Exaggeration in feeling is the consequence of a bewilder- 
 ment which masters us ; we can only examine what we 
 govern. We often designedly exaggerate our ideas, because 
 we feel the feebleness of our conviction ; and of our feelings, 
 because we feel the weakness of our will. 
 
 However painful self-restraint may be, our self-love often 
 receives more willingly the limits we put upon ourselves, 
 than those which are given us. The first are our choice 
 and our work. Thus we take a secret pride in temperance. 
 We resemble those princes who like to descend incognito 
 into private life, but would not consent to be kept there 
 against their will. 
 
 The lot, which has been assigned us in society, is an 
 enclosure v/hich limits our rights, our property, our pleas- 
 ures, our pretensions, our most simple movements, perpetu- 
 ally, and on all sides; curbing the insatiable desire for 
 spontaneous activity which is natural to us. This enclosure 
 seems to become narrower for each individual, in proportion 
 as the developement of civilization, multiplying his duties 
 with his relations, increases the enormous disproportion 
 between what he perceives and what he can attain. It also 
 seems to become narrower for those who compose the 
 largest class of society. We say, it seems narrower, 
 because, although the barriers are not nearer, their pres- 
 ence is more keenly felt ; and on all sides a thousand pros- 
 pects are opened to ambition of every kind. Moreover, the 
 
LIMITS AND MODERATION. 87 
 
 sight of SO many blessings and honors lavished upon others, 
 which are not the reward of merit, not only awakens all 
 the incentives to cupidity and envy ; but more noble senti- 
 ments also arise to lead astray and torment the heart. We 
 possess within ourselves the fire of an energy which demands 
 what we are destined for ; we feel within us faculties which 
 demand a larger theatre of action ; so we envy wealth, not 
 its treasures, but the elegance which surrounds it, and the 
 independence it procures ; we envy power, not its proud 
 pleasures, but its possibility of diffusing a beneficent influ- 
 ence over the human race ; we hail the image of glory in 
 our dreams, and think we are worthy of the highest desti- 
 nies. In proportion as we mingle with the world, seduc- 
 tions of this kind become more powerful. If, from the 
 effect of some transient circumstances, the ranks of society 
 are for a moment confounded, if rapid and unexpected v/ays 
 are open to fortune and to honors, the temptation is strength- 
 ened by the examples we have before us, and by the possi- 
 bility of success. How then can we be preserved from 
 inquietude and bitterness, and peaceably restrain ourselves 
 within the humble sphere, to which we are perhaps con- 
 demned? — or be content to make only those slow and 
 progressive efforts to get beyond it, which are generally the 
 only lawful ones? For, although the desire of raising and 
 expanding ourselves is the motive of all industry, it must 
 renounce the violence which conquers while spoiling, and 
 subject itself to those regular labors, which alone are truly 
 fruitful, though they become so insensibly. 
 
 But it is not enough to be resigned to our condition ; 
 we must also be content with it, v/hatever it may be ; not 
 only for the sake of happiness, but for usefulness and for 
 virtue. We effect nothing with success, if we are ill at 
 ease ; we do nothing well, if we are wearied by restraint ; 
 there is a habit of inward joy, which is necessary to facili- 
 tate the practice of excellence. The principle of all har- 
 mony disappears, as soon as we feel ourselves out fo place. 
 
SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 This is one of the great diseases of the human heart, partic- 
 ularly at certain times and in certain countries. Nothing 
 is more difficult, perhaps, than to lay hold of that exact and 
 just medium between the apathy which renders us incapable 
 of improving our condition, while following the general 
 interest, and the disorderly impatience, which agitates and 
 destroys, while wishing to take possession and produce. 
 
 Neither is it enough to know how to be content with the 
 social situation which falls to our lot. There is a more 
 painful cause for resignation, because there are mental 
 limits which touch us still nearer ; and it is to be remarked, 
 that this trouble especially affects gifted men, for they have 
 a more vivid and enlightened perception of these limits. 
 Consumed by a thirst for truth, their reason every where 
 meets with barriers which check investigation ; and they 
 feel their own impotence. But perhaps nature would refuse 
 them the power of making truth prevail ; and perhaps cir- 
 cumstances would prevent them from making it welcome to 
 others. The noble passion of virtue burns in their souls ; 
 but sometimes their will is rebellious, and resists, or fails at 
 the seasonable moment : they conceive of excellence, yet 
 are hurried away to what they condemn. They have more 
 to bear than outward difficulties ; for they often have to bear 
 with themselves. The more elevated they are, in the pro- 
 pitious hours of sublime contemplation, the more they feel 
 the weight of their insufficiency at the moment of action, 
 and are surprised to find that they fall below themselves. 
 Should there be a moderation, then, which would suppress 
 the love of truth, and zeal for excellence ? No ; bat there 
 is a true virtue, which teaches us neither to be discouraged, 
 nor to presume upon ourselves ; there is a moderation in 
 pretensions and in hopes, which is resigned to the imperfec- 
 tions of our nature ; and this is the more difficult in propor- 
 tion as the ideal end to which we aspire, without being able 
 to attain it, is more elevated and laudable. 
 
LIMITS AND MODERATION. o9 
 
 A desire for excitement explains the greater part of 
 liuman actions, much better than the reasonings of interest. 
 This not only deceives interest, but it easily triumphs over 
 it, even when the latter is armed with all its logic. Now 
 excitement, and its charms, cannot be measured by a com- 
 pass, or estimated by geometrical calculations ; they cannot 
 even be always foreseen, because they. depend upon a thou- 
 sand circumstances, and upon the secrets of individual dis- 
 positions. How bold then are the systems of legislation 
 and morality, which suppose man always led by calculations 
 of interest ! It is an error, of which theories upon public 
 economy have often shown the effects. The love of novelty, 
 the blind passion for lotteries and gambling, and even the 
 attractions of such dangers as a military life offers, spring 
 from this desire of excitement, seeking to gratify itself in a 
 thousand ways. Hence the charms of violent passion. 
 Agitation is also a fruitful source of excitement, and as 
 disorder causes agitation, and is a continual cause of sur- 
 prise, we desire to derange the accustomed course of things. 
 As destruction is sometimes a grand and imposing spectacle, 
 the desire of excitement becomes, as a natural consequence, 
 the too frequent cause of tlie misfortunes of states and indi- 
 viduals, making lamentable corruptions in public and private 
 morality. We seldom do evil for the sake of the evil, but 
 often we do it to enjoy the sight of the agitation it produces ; 
 and this helps us to account for the indefinable inclination 
 which certain beings have for cruelty. Here may also be 
 found an explanation of the not less inconceivable phenom- 
 enon, which depravity sometimes presents, when it unites 
 cruelty with voluptuousness. 
 
 I'o moderate the love of excitement then is the chief 
 career for self-government; and it is difficult and immense. 
 We must strengthen the soul by tempering its emotions ; 
 restore it to health by calming that burning fever which 
 tliirsts for excitement ; and, by teaching the will to stop 
 seasonably, we must unfold its energies at the time of need. 
 8* 
 
90 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 We must also moderate impetuosity by exciting gentle 
 affections ; and arouse dejection by awakening noble senti- 
 ments ; and keep all the powers of the heart attentive and 
 docile to the signal they may receive from reason. But 
 how and by what right will this internal power lay upon 
 them such restraint ? We have said ; itself an organ of the 
 legislator, it has borrowed his authority, and proclaims the 
 decrees of the moral law itself Prudence might advise 
 moderation ; but it could not always give the courage neces- 
 sary to its own counsels. There is no constantly uniform 
 moderation, except that which is founded upon duty. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 
 
 Strength of character is that habitual power over the 
 will, by which we triumph over obstacles, and nourish in- 
 flexible determinations that nothing external can shake. 
 It is always implied in moderation, especially if we are 
 moderate when impelled to extremes. It is the supreme 
 act of moral liberty, and must not be confounded with dis- 
 positions and qualities that borrow some of its effects, with- 
 otit having its characteristics. It is a strictly moral power, 
 and constitutes the distinction of man. 
 
 There is a sort of natural moderation, a phlegmatism of 
 nature, the gift of temperament and humor, which protects 
 some men against emotions. There are fewer sufferings, 
 fewer causes of fear, fewer wounds for men thus constituted. 
 Existence being more material, they are less accessible to 
 pain. But this is a sort of paralysis ; it is independent of 
 will ; it draws from trial no fruit or merit ; it is the sleep of 
 the soul, not the courage of virtue. 
 
STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 91 
 
 There is also a rigidity of character which admits no for- 
 eign elements, repelling grief and danger; this is disdainful 
 pride, obstinacy, inflexible habit. Motives are nothing to 
 this kind of character, for there is no acting from reflection : 
 it may be considered a rampart against trial, rather than a 
 means of rendering trial profitable. 
 
 There is, thirdly, an indiflerence of heart, through which 
 some men are always quiet, because they are not capable 
 of being interested. They have neither feeling nor fore- 
 sight ; they are calm, because vacant, and have neither 
 combats nor triumphs. But this is apathy, and not strength 
 of character. 
 
 On the other hand, there is sometimes a warmth of tem- 
 perament, which is kindled [by the presence of dangers, 
 irritated by obstacles, taking pleasure in excitement, in- 
 stinctively generous, and especially fond of great and bril- 
 liant efforts. But this is a gift of organization, not the 
 result of will ; mere animals are not without it. It is apt 
 to fail in time of need. Trial loses its character and be- 
 comes enjoyment to this kind of temperament. 
 
 There is also an exaltation of mind, which subjects reali- 
 ties to illusions. To this state of mind, every thing seems 
 easy ; the present disappearing before the world which the 
 imagination has created. It distances trial, and veils it from 
 sight. The veil, however, must be withdrawn at last, and 
 the spectacle will be the more terrible to the beholder, who 
 is not prepared for it. Besides, this state of mind is change- 
 able in its nature, and it is followed by a dejection which 
 deprives us of our natural resources. It is not real strength. 
 The excess of the passions, also, seems to escape pain 
 and fear. We know that the most acute sufferings are sus- 
 pended by a lively and sudden emotion. The passions 
 therefore produce a sort of heroism, but it is limited by the 
 exciting object. This is another way of avoiding trial with- 
 out competing with it. The impulse by which the soul is 
 carried along, is external to itself, and cannot be governed. 
 
92 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 The soul is feeble, when the passions have thus carried 
 away all its energy. It does not always avoid the adversa- 
 ry ; for it wants discernment in the choice of means, and 
 creates new trials in the future, casting itself from one rock 
 to another. This is moral fever, not health ; violence, not 
 strength of character. 
 
 Strength of character is nothing exaggerated, affected, 
 artificial, tumultuous, or unequal ; it does not live upon 
 error, or belie nature, or stifle lawful affections. Its seat is 
 not in the imagination, nor in the organs, nor in any thing 
 external to the moral nature. It consists entirely in Self- 
 government, the principle of which is found in the sanctua- 
 ry of conscience. It does not escape grief, but feels and 
 accepts it. It does not turn from danger, but confronts and 
 measures it. Hence the virtue, which consists in a sense of 
 moral obligation, is called strength ; for this fidelity is most 
 fully displayed in the triumph gained over such enemies, 
 and reaps in this victory it most precious reward. 
 
 Of all the moral qualities, strength of character is the 
 most indispensable : it is the first of which man feels the 
 want ; for pain and fear await him on the threshold of life : 
 it is also the first which is developed in the character of 
 nations. In the very infancy of civilization, savages have 
 given prodigious examples of firmness in suffering ; and 
 the heroic age of every nation belongs to the period of its 
 early civilization. True heroism consists in acting out 
 strength of character, carried to its highest degree of ener- 
 gy. It imposes more upon the vulgar, when it manifests 
 itself in contempt of pain and death ; but it is best mani- 
 fested in that magnanimous calmness, which triumphs over 
 the vicissitudes of life, over the tyranny of power, over pop- 
 ular passions, and over opinion ; or in the religious tran- 
 quillity through which we support that secret anguish of 
 heart, which is most terrible of all. It is especially mani- 
 fested in obscure life ; where there is no support but our 
 virtue, and man, far from the theatre of glory, struggles 
 
STRENGTH OF CHARACTEPw 93 
 
 alone, without relaxation or hope of release, against unknown 
 sufferings. It is doubtless right and useful to raise monu- 
 ments to extraordinary men, who have left traces of light to 
 mark their career to after ages. Providence permitted their 
 heroism to be displayed to the world, that all might be excited 
 by their noble examples. But where will be found crowns 
 for the unknown heroes ? Yet it is they, whom we are all 
 called upon to imitate, for they live in our own sphere, in 
 the common condition ; the trials, over which they have 
 triumphed, meet us at every step ; the power they have 
 opposed to them is the only one which belongs to all men. 
 Glory to this, the true heroism, which has no witnesses of 
 its triumphs, which even wishes to remain unknown ! 
 
 Strength of character, considered as an active power, is 
 not the faculty of making and supporting energetic resolu- 
 tions without motives ; it is the faculty of carrying into res- 
 olutions an energy and constancy, proportionate to the 
 greatness and importance of the motive ; it is the power of 
 assenting and adhering to motives. It consists partly of 
 feeling and partly of conviction. It necessarily supposes a 
 liberty of thought, which examines things and judges of 
 their real value. It disdains mean, transient, and frivolous 
 interests, and needs a wide and solid foundation. It is 
 animated by a principle eminently moral. Generosity is the 
 first principle of strength, but perseverance is also necessary 
 to carry out the resolutions courageously formed : for that 
 which charms the heart, the circumstances that aid us at 
 the first moment, may change their aspect afterwards ; 
 difficulties are discovered, which we may not resist, unless 
 prepared for them ; therefore Self-government should come 
 to aid our dejected will, obliging us to go on as long as the 
 motives are unchanged, and bringing truth and duty as the 
 support of the motives from which habit has worn away the 
 charm. 
 
 It is the same with strength of character, considered as a 
 resistance. We are subject to inward vicissitudes, when our 
 
94 SELF-EDUCATTON. 
 
 ideas are confused, our feelings weighed down, and every- 
 thing appears changed, because we ourselves have changed. 
 Self-government prevents some of these revolutions, modifies 
 others, and, when it cannot arrest them, because they pro- 
 ceed from some disorder in our physical organization, binds 
 the tottering will by the chain of memory. 
 
 Courage and patience are our resources against possible 
 misfortune, and present misery. The courageous have this 
 advantage over the patient, that they can turn away from 
 the thought of evils not yet in existence, and keep up the hope 
 of escape, and thus have the image of pain transiently pres- 
 ent ; while the patient wrestle bodily with a real enemy, 
 from which they cannot disengage themselves; every in- 
 stant seeming to exhaust their strength, while at every suc- 
 cessive instant new strength is demanded, and to this strug- 
 gle there seems no limit but the tomb. 
 
 The courageous have another advantage over the patient ; 
 they generally brave a danger of their own choosing; and 
 Providence, in mercy to our weakness, seems to have cast 
 a. veil over the dangers that are inevitable ; thus a given 
 danger becomes a sort of pathway, by which to attain a 
 desired end, or to escape a greater evil ; and hence it 
 comes, that there are so many different forms of courage, 
 according to the nature of the blessing, or of the safety, 
 which we desire to purchase at this price ; and it becomes 
 confounded with the calculations of prudence, and some- 
 times may be resolved into very great fear. * Patience, on 
 the contrary, is exercised over evils that are unsought, and 
 under the iron yoke of necessity ; most frequently without 
 any selfish interest, or expectation of recompense. Men 
 seldom brave death, except in the presence of witnesses ; 
 but they ordinarily suff'er in solitude. There are many 
 
 * Valor is often an extreme fear of opinion. King William's page 
 who showed such great intrepidity during the passage from Holland to 
 England in a tempest, explains it in his own words ; — ''I feared lest 
 they should see that I was afraid," 
 
STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 95 
 
 pains of the soul which it is necessary to conceal. More- 
 over we generally act, in time of danger ; and action sup- 
 ports us ; but patience is exercised in stillness and in silence. 
 The patient, however, have their advantages ; they know 
 the evils which they endure ; they can define and measure 
 them ; they are exempt from the fear that creates a thou- 
 sand imaginary dangers, and from the vagueness and dis- 
 tance which give to real dangers exaggerated proportions. 
 There is a limit to actual suffering, while there is none 
 to the apprehension of evil. The hardest trial is that which 
 joins the experience of present evil to the prospect of an 
 impending misfortune. And as our deepest grief is in our 
 feeling for the sorrows of others, there is nothing more 
 distressing upon earth, than to see those we love, suffer, 
 and fear to lose them at the same time : at least, there is 
 but one trial more bitter ; it is to see those we love, debased 
 and corrupted. 
 
 When the author of the " Maxims " took so much pleas- 
 ure in diminishing the merit of martial courage, he perhaps 
 made a judicious analysis of the kind of courage which does 
 not have its source in strength of character; but he left 
 the merit and glory of true courage untouched. Do we 
 wish to have an infallible means of recognising the truly 
 courageous? Let us examine whether they are equally ca- 
 pable of civil courage ; whether they can confront the 
 frowns of the powerful, that they may support the cause of 
 justice and innocence : for real strength of character is one ; 
 and when it exists, it is the same in all applications, especial- 
 ly in those which answer most immediately to its principle. 
 
 The sentence by which all nations and all ages have 
 condemned fear of danger, and of all evils purely physical, 
 is a sentence unanimously and manifestly pronounced by 
 human instinct, against the theory of the book De V Esprit. 
 For on the theory of that, nothing can be more absurd, or 
 even ignominious, than to sacrifice the only true good, from 
 which all others flow, and to which, according to its logic, 
 
96 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 even honor must be referred. But it has been universally 
 and always felt, that there is for man a good, superior to 
 sensual life and earthly existence. 
 
 Moralists, and particularly the moralists of antiquity, 
 have had exaggerated ideas concerning strength of charac- 
 ter, when they have supposed, that all the means of its tri- 
 umphs are drawn from the depths of the soul ; and that the 
 will can struggle with obstacles, with no other arms than 
 its own resolution. Strength of character is something 
 more useful and elevated, and at the same time less harsh. 
 It does not leave men in darkness. We cannot conceive of 
 a great moral force, unless by the assistance of powerful 
 motives. The faculties of the soul, being protected in their 
 liberty amid the storms which assail them by Self-govern- 
 ment, each of them brings in its aid ; while reflection 
 invokes, at need, every consideration, calculated to sustain, 
 encourage, and console. Sometimes strength is attained 
 by yielding to emotions. This virtue, then, is not mute 
 and immovable, like material force or mechanical resis- 
 tance ; it is rich in thoughts and sentiments. It presents 
 itself to the combat, escorted by allies as numerous as they 
 are useful. The constancy of savages is rather a quality 
 than a virtue ; it is aided by nothing moral ; it arises partly 
 from temperament, and is in some sort muscular. But the 
 firmness or constancy of the wise man, is displayed with 
 more lustre in the decay of the physical organs : it supposes 
 no peculiarity of temperament, age, or sex; but it supposes 
 the habit of feeding upon the meditation of excellence. 
 Thus, in danger he does not, like the vulgar brave, confront 
 peril, to display his own energy, and struggle for the very 
 pleasure of the struggle ; but the images of the duty to 
 which he is devoted by a reasonable sacrifice, are present 
 to his mind ; he thinks of the benefits which society may 
 receive from his devotedness : he does better than brave 
 danger : — he enjoys the sublime pleasure of foreseeing the 
 advantages which his fellow men are to reap from what he 
 does ; this is his true laurel ; generosity is his courage. 
 
STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 97 
 
 In the pains and sufferings that afflict humanity, Self- 
 government lends a double aid to strength of character ; it 
 moderates that natural irritation, which, reacting upon 
 suffering, redoubles its intensity and plunges still deeper the 
 arrow which wounds ; and it insensibly turns the sufferer 
 from the tendency which he feels to concentrate himself in 
 the present, and fold himself up in himself It turns him 
 into the circle of virtuous affections, and to future prospects, 
 where are regions inaccessible to the arrows of present suffer- 
 ing ; and to a refuge where we do not cease to suffer, it is 
 true, but where grief no longer absorbs all the faculties of 
 the soul. A soul, that is filled with noble passions, suffers 
 less from purely physical evils in consequence. 
 
 Those who have suffered much, and reflected upon their 
 sufferings, well understand that involuntary impulse, which 
 hurries the soul to the contemplation of its grief, as if in 
 spite of itself, and condemns it to increase its own misery : 
 they know the relief procured by resisting this impulse, 
 and driving grief to the surface of existence, and refusing 
 all concurrence and cooperation in the impressions it causes. 
 But they know also how difficult is this effort ; for it must 
 be a calm as well as an energetic effort. It is secretly and 
 powerfully aided by moral influences, which call forth all 
 the activity of the soul to give repose and calmness, and to 
 paralyse and suspend that fatal involuntary cooperation, by 
 which it redoubles its sufferings in reacting upon them. 
 It is doubtless a kind of diversion ; nay, it is more, — a 
 healing influence circulated through the veins of our sensi- 
 bility. There is even a pleasure in the very bitterness of 
 suffering, as is well known to the disinterested friend, — 
 to the mother, who suffers for the good of her child. And 
 there is not any trial which admits not of a similar remedy, 
 even among the trials of those affections which are less inti- 
 mate. " Let me suffer, or else let me die, " exclaimed the holy 
 Theresa, in the purest flight of divine love ; and in those sub- 
 lime words she did not merely express the desire of a merit to 
 9 
 
98 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 be acquired; she intended also a kind of heroic pleasure, 
 which transforms pain into a sacrifice of love.* This observa- 
 tion is so true, that, even in the art of healing, it is found, 
 that the influence of the moral affections prevents the exas- 
 peration of the maladies of the body, and favors the medicine 
 which is applied to cure the patient. But in the sufferings of 
 the heart, or when danger and grief threaten and overwhelm, 
 not ourselves, but those we love ; the wise man will need a 
 loftier courage, and a more difficult patience. The heart 
 of sensibility alone knows the secret of that deepest sorrow, 
 in which the heart repels with just indignation all the aid, 
 which might distract its attention from the sorrows and 
 dangers of others. Even virtue is here in union with sym- 
 pathy, associating itself, by the most tender interest, with 
 the woes it relieves. Here, then, the functions of self-gov- 
 ernment experience a considerable change. As suffering 
 is the necessary means of generosity, strength of character 
 accepts the suffering without reserve. Unlike personal sor- 
 row, it is not dejected, nor cowardly, but full of activity ; 
 breathing only love ; redoubling our strength ; suggesting 
 to us means of relief; and inspiring the consolations which 
 may give relief. Here again it is from generosity that self- 
 government draws the aid which contributes to strength of 
 character. There is nothing which we cannot support, or 
 that does not become easy, if we feel that it is useful to 
 those we love. Love is the most certain and ready source 
 of courage. The mere spectacle of our patience is useful 
 to those who witness it ; and if our courage cannot be use- 
 ful to those around us, let us go farther : we shall find other 
 images of excellence, other duties, other hopes : we may 
 always convert our sorrows into the sacrifices of duty. The 
 
 * In observing the effects of pain on soldiers, and on men whose moral 
 existence is not much developed, we find it is free, with them, from the as- 
 sociations of recollection, and of anticipation ; from comparisons, and a thou- 
 sand distressing reflections : and it is this accompaniment, perhaps, which 
 renders its weight insupportable. 
 
STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 99 
 
 elevated will comprehend us ; and may thus bring us their 
 experience, Avhich reveals more in regard to this sublime 
 refuge, opened to human nature, than we can express in this 
 place. We can now only speak of their example, and 
 invite all to follow it. 
 
 It is only in these great revelations, in this last order of 
 moral influences, that are discovered the resources which 
 strength of character opposes to another kind of trial, the 
 most cruel of all, against which man is least defended ; — 
 we mean the mourning of the heart over the last farewell 
 of those we love. Would it be strength of character to arm 
 ourselves with insensibility against this sorrow ? Ought we 
 not to hold in horror a virtue which would be faithlessness 
 of heart? Giving up affection to escape from grief, is only 
 weakness of another kind. True strength of character, far 
 from refusing to the affections the faithfulness which belongs 
 to them, aids us, after the fatal hour of separation, to pay 
 them a more worthy tribute ; aids us still to love while we 
 suffer ; and to rise by love still higher than suffering. We 
 are capable of resisting despair, not by breaking ties, but 
 by preserving them. For pure love is power animating us 
 in our affliction and becoming heroism in the very bosom of 
 despair. But that love may still be preserved, and renew its 
 ties, and affection be something more than an empty word, 
 there must be no absolute separation but only simple 
 absence : our souls must still whisper, though in mysterious 
 language, " We meet again ; " — and must understand, too, 
 all the deep meaning of these words : in short, there must 
 be another future beyond this mortal life, another country 
 besides this earth. And without this future, what would be 
 the affections of man even upon earth ! What would he be 
 himself? Surely, the future is ours ; that other country is 
 our home ! If its image is sometimes veiled, it is not so 
 much that our reason doubts, as that our characters are 
 disarranged and disconcerted. If we want confidence, it is 
 because our soul is in dejection, and wants the energy 
 
100 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 necessary to conceive, seize, and dwell upon lofty thoughts, 
 like the terrestrial navigator, who, fearing that he may be 
 buried in the waves, cannot conceive the possibility of 
 reaching the shore. But love restores to us our confidence, 
 because it forces us to hope. Strength of character also 
 supports reasonable convictions, by preventing decay of 
 mind, as well as of heart ; disorder of ideas, as well as of 
 feelings. 
 
 True strength of character, then, as we mean to define it, 
 differs essentially, in this point of view, from the strength 
 of character cried up by the sages of antiquity, particularly 
 by the Stoics. That was only a sort of frozen impenetra- 
 bility, we might almost say savage, ferocious, barbarous. 
 It was a state contrary to nature ; could it then be a virtue, 
 worthy of the name of strength of character 1 And more ; 
 it was something almost unintelligible, an energy without a 
 motive. It is doubtless necessary that in the exercise of 
 Self-government we should oppose the assaults of sorrow, 
 sufficiently to prevent the agitation sorrow might produce 
 in our moral faculties ; but, by strength of character, which 
 keeps every thing within an equilibrium and harmony, w^ 
 find grief itself its own remedy. For amidst the images of 
 excellence we recover intercourse with those who have dis- 
 appeared from our sight; — and by preserving and reanimat- 
 ing our power of practising excellence, we resist the 
 assaults of sadness. Thus our remembrances become con- 
 secrated, and the tribute of our affections more worthy its 
 object. 
 
 To do right, — is not this serving those we love, if we 
 love truly ? To become better, is it not to approach them ? 
 Thus, the strength of character which is instituted and 
 recognised by virtue, does not mutilate man ,• it invests 
 him, on the contrary, with all the greatness of human 
 nature. It does not extinguish, but it enobles grief. It 
 does not make us forget those we mourn ; it rather leads us 
 to find them again in mysterious relations, imperfect for us 
 
STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 101 
 
 at present, but fruitful in hopes. It does not forbid our 
 tears ; it renders them worthy of those for whom they are 
 shed. 
 
 There is, however, another and far different trial of 
 strength of character, which threatens it in the very point 
 where it should find support. It sometimes happens, that 
 the government of our own faculties is partly withdrawn 
 from us, without our being able to resume it. This is 
 observed, for example, in hypochondria, and in certain 
 nervous affections, and various maladies, which, without 
 producing real alienation of mind, yet so sensibly alter the 
 play of our organs, that the soul, which employs and de- 
 pends upon them, inevitably feels an inward and peculiar 
 malady ; objects change their color and form ; vague, invol- 
 untary, unsought terrors take possession of us, leaving us 
 no power to master them. In vain we call to our aid the 
 recollections of the past and the prospects of the future ; 
 the first offer only heart-rending regrets, the last only mourn- 
 ful images. We wish to take refuge in moral meditations, 
 but the sanctuary is closed. We seek the objects of affec- 
 tion, to be reanimated by their presence, but they seem to 
 be covered with a funereal veil, and, in spite of itself, the 
 soul doubts of their affection and its own. This is a sort of 
 delirium, not entire, but more painful to him who feels it, 
 than total alienation of mind ; for he is conscious that his 
 faculties are in disorder : he sees his own difficulty, yet is 
 impotent to restore the harmony. The affliction caused by 
 this inward spectacle redoubles the horror of his situation. 
 How much is the evil increased, if it is joined with violent 
 bodily suffering, or deep mental anguish ! What a singular 
 trial of virtue ! Who has described such a state 1 Who 
 has pointed out the regimen that can bear us through it 
 unharmed? It is doubtless extraordinary, and consequently 
 little known ; it cannot be imagined by those who never 
 felt it. Ho\tever, virtue may still triumph. So long as 
 there remains to man a ray to enlighten his mind, an 
 9* 
 
103 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 element of liberty in his will, he may conjure the storm. 
 However much he suffers, though he suffer agony of soul, 
 amid the thick clouds which surround him, yet faithful 
 to Excellence, to which he was consecrated, he may still 
 assert his fidelity, disown the dark thoughts which obscure 
 his vision, and, standing on a rock, amid the lashing 
 waves, raise his eye to heaven, whence serenity will sooner 
 or later descend upon him. Abandoned by all, he has 
 but a single act of soul to exercise, simple, persevering, 
 but sublime 1 the act of blind resignation to the Supreme 
 Will. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 
 
 We sometimes take strange ideas concerning Law, which 
 are most unfortunate, when they lead us to mistake the 
 end for which it is given. Some confound Law with force ; 
 and essential and primitive Law with its expression or 
 organs. Hence arise false notions about independence and 
 obedience ; two dispositions, which we suppose contradic- 
 tory, although they are perfectly in unison, produced from 
 the same principle, which is justice, and maintained by the 
 same means. Self-government. 
 
 Far from force being Law,* their characters are diamet- 
 rically opposite : the one is all darkness, the other all light. 
 
 * This monstrous idea, whicli derives law from force, and which would 
 overturn all morality, one philosopher has, however, dared to erect into a 
 system. It is true, that Hobbes was (he partisan and apologist of absolute 
 power ; this explains all : the theory was worthy of the application. The 
 savage, also, identifies physical force with moral power; but, moie rea- 
 sonable than Hobbes, he deduces the first from the second. 
 
INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 103 
 
 The spring of one is mechanical, that of the other moral. 
 One compels our Will, the other lays obligations on it. One 
 makes itself feared, the other venerated. Law can employ 
 force, which is an instrument ; but force, being but an 
 instrument, cannot create Law, which is a principle. No 
 human law subsists by itself, or from itself. All social 
 power is the minister and depositary of an anterior authori- 
 ty, — that of the Moral Law, made express' and positive. 
 It represents society, whose rights it exercises, and whose 
 duties it fulfils. By pretending to be autocratic, it would 
 disavow and annul its title. The obligation we are under 
 to submit to social power, is not derived from the will of 
 society, but the will of society is the expression of Law, 
 which alone imposes obligation, and which rules by its 
 organ — society, because it rules society itself. 
 
 There is a Law for the intellect, as well as for the heart, 
 and these unite and aid one another in virtue. The Law 
 for the intellect, far from excluding conviction, accompanies 
 it, and is founded upon it. It is only the power of truth ; 
 and the power of truth consists in its direct manifestation, 
 through evidence ; or in its indirect manifestation through 
 deduction. Hence the expression, "the authority of evi- 
 dence and of reason." But deduction may be drawn in 
 different ways, and reason may become consequent to itself, 
 by sometimes renouncing reasoning, and submitting to^ 
 authority. 
 
 To be witnesses, ourselves, of external or internal facts 
 perceived immediately, or to compare elementary notions, 
 is to ycrccivc. To deduce general laws from these facts, 
 and complex propositions from these axioms, is to Icnoio. 
 From perceived facts to deduce other facts, which cannot 
 be directly known, is to believe ; and as probabilities are 
 often the only result of this last kind of deduction, we also 
 say, wc believe, when we mean to express our assent to prob- 
 able facts. If the link which unites to our knowledge the 
 fact which cannot be directly known, be a testimony, belief 
 
104 SELf-EDUCATlON. 
 
 becomes faith ; faith adds to belief a moral sentiment of 
 confidence, founded upon esteem or respect. 
 
 Faith, then, is a homage, rendered to the authority of 
 testimony. This homage consists in reason's giving up 
 direct demonstration. But the authority of testimony rests 
 upon what certifies the presence, veracity, and capacity of 
 the witness, and upon what gives us reason to think, that 
 the witness has been clearly anderstood ; and all this is in 
 the province of reason. Faith in our fellow-men brings 
 only a less or a greater probability. Faith in the Divinity 
 is full and entirely securCj for it is faith in an infallible tes- 
 timony ; in truth itself But, if the Deity has not granted 
 to the human race the favor of an immediate cummunica- 
 tion, the certainty of the facts which declare that He has 
 spoken, and that this language has been clearly understood, 
 remains to be established by common logic ; and, if He has 
 chosen an organ, the same reasoning must be employed in 
 order to acknowledge that organ. All intellectual Law 
 then supposes the authority of evidence. 
 
 There is a multitude of facts, which are believed through 
 the testimony of men ; and we ought to be happy in being 
 thus freed from the necessity of a multitude of verifications ; 
 but the veracity of the testimony is itself a consequence, 
 deduced from previously acknowledged truths : and the au- 
 thority of testimony dispenses with an examination, only 
 when it is itself the accurate product of another examina- 
 tion. We follow our guide with our eyes shut ; but it is 
 because we know beforehand who this guide is. 
 
 It is therefore overturning all ideas, to substitute, abso- 
 lutely, the authority of testimony for examinations, and also 
 to make both primitive facts and evidence itself proceed 
 from the authority of testimony. It is reasoning in a circle, 
 and destroying with one hand what we pretend to build 
 with the other.* What has just been said upon the Law of 
 
 * "Reason," says Saint Augustin, " receives assistance from authority, 
 which makes us know what ought to be believed ; and the first authority 
 
INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 105 
 
 the intellect, applies to that which rules the will : as the 
 first proceeds from evidence, so the second flows from duty ; 
 the first is truth, the second is good. 
 
 The judiciary of a country are ministers of public moral- 
 ty, and witnesses are the ministers of truth. The first pro- 
 claim what is good for society, and the second certify what 
 is real in facts. Authority, then, is essentially beneficent, 
 so far as it springs from Law and is faithful to the mission 
 of administering Law. 
 
 There are indeed some duties, concerning which con- 
 science is not decisive, because we do not possess the 
 necessary data for estimating them. There are, also, some 
 persons less capable than others of knowing them, and of 
 measuring their extent ; children, for example. There are, 
 besides, some general duties, which cannot be resolved 
 into determined, particular, and positive actions, only so 
 far as they take an express and special form, by individual 
 will, or by a majority, which uses language like an individ- 
 ual ; such is that duty, which calls us to serve society. 
 
 The order given by the magistrate in peace, and by the 
 general in war, is an organ necessary to render this duty 
 applicable and real in practice. 
 
 Respect for social order is in the first rank of duties. 
 Now, in society there are collective rights, which can only 
 be exercised, and collective actions, which can only be 
 performed, by a single person, or by a small number, in the 
 name of all : there are certain general and correlative oper- 
 ations, which must be executed in harmony, that order 
 may subsist, and that they may produce some fruits. Hence 
 authority is confided to a single person for the maintenance 
 of this harmony. 
 
 is that of truth, already known by evidence." In another work, he main- 
 tains another paradox. " Two guides," he says, "are offered for our in- 
 struction, authority and reason. Authority is the most simple, and is the; 
 way for ordinary men ; reason is the guide reserved for the wise maOx'' 
 
106 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 There is no right which does not suppose a duty, nor 
 duty which does not include a. right ; it is therefore a 
 strange error to suppose, that rights and duties are distinct 
 or even contrary : they differ apparently, only because 
 the same principle is considered in two different points of 
 view. 
 
 Lawful authorities can no more be opposed to one another 
 than duties. Morality which is one, is their common source. 
 But they are reciprocally limited, as duties circumscribe 
 each other. 
 
 But the individual is not only subjected to foreign author- 
 ities, he also exercises over himself a peculiar authority ; 
 and he has his own rights secured by a common authority, 
 even as he is to respect the same rights in others. Hence 
 the distinction of independence and obedience, their limi- 
 tations, and their harmony. Being parallel powers, they 
 touch without interfering with one another. Each one is 
 perverted as soon as it invades the region of the other, and . 
 each acquires more extent, in proportion as the other is 
 better defined. 
 
 Independence resists violence, and obedience submits to 
 4uty. Independence breaks away the obstacles which are 
 .opposed to the recognition of our rights ; obedience repress- 
 es within us the movements, which threaten the rights of 
 others. Independence is a kind of obedience to the Law 
 of our own reason.^ obedience is a kind of independence, 
 which triumphs over the passions. Self-government is the 
 principle of both these virtues, for it gives power both to 
 jesist tyranny, and to accomplish duty : at once prohibiting 
 iServiJity and licentiousness .; freeing from the fear of op- 
 pression; teaching us to suffer ourselves to be ruled by 
 what protects us ; calling independence to repress arbitra- 
 riness, and obedience to ser\^e justice, and both to be the 
 auxiliaries of virtue. 
 
 Yet we invert these two functions eontinually. Obedi- 
 ence is placed upoia the groui^d of independence, and 
 
INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 107 
 
 becomes servility ; independence is put upon that of obedi- 
 ence, and becomes rebellion ; one bows before force, the 
 other braves Law. This double mistake is sometimes made 
 by the same man. It is not only the fault of inferiors, but 
 often proceeds from those who command ; the latter, when 
 deceived about the nature of the power which they exer- 
 cise, mislead those who obey, whether inferiors then submijt 
 or resist. Obedience, moreover, is commonly neglected by 
 those to whom it would be most useful, and independence 
 by those who have the best right to it. 
 
 There are some men, who may be said not to know how 
 to will, and are charmed to find some one who will take the 
 trouble to will for them. Feeling as if they could not be 
 moved by a foreign impulse, they go to meet force and 
 seem attracted by it, as if it would infuse into them the 
 energy of vital warmth, which they need. They not only 
 respect force, but feel tenderly towards it, and seem almost 
 to love it; they admire it in proportion as they are weak, 
 and this admiration becomes worship ; for they have to 
 make a religion of servitude, and persuade themselves that 
 they fulfil a duty, that they may conceal their shame, and 
 enjoy a more perfect repose. They reserve all their indig- 
 nation for the oppressed ; if he oppose the shadow of a 
 resistance, they do not pardon him for thus troubling the 
 security they seek under the shelter of material power ; 
 they almost bear malice towards innocence, if it importune 
 and acuse them of their servility, and remind them of rights, 
 which they have endeavoured to forget. 
 
 But, if weakness of character be a manifest cause of ser- 
 vility, self-interest is not a less fruitful and common cause. 
 The weak range themselves under the standard of force ; 
 not that they may be exposed to its blows, but that they 
 may receive its protection. They go to it, as to the most 
 direct and simple means of obtaining, without industry or 
 merit, the accomplishment of their wishes. It is an igno- 
 minious barter, in which they exchange their rights for the 
 
108 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 objects of their ambition. Affection and veneration, the 
 two tributes which cannot be won by force, compose the 
 tributes that servility offers, as the most precious and rare. 
 And for the very reason that force is not lawful, and has no 
 titles, the servile carry to it, as the surest means of pleasing 
 it, factitious titles, which may make it lawful in its own 
 opinion. Victorious injustice never wants cowards to be 
 servile to it, courtiers to flatter it, and mean sophists to jus- 
 tify it. These are given, or rather sold, to it by self-in- 
 terest. 
 
 Among the different forms of selfishness, there is one 
 which appears, at first, not to conduce to servility of char- 
 acter ; at least, it haughtily pretends to be free from it : this 
 is vanity. It is true the vain often resist reasonable and 
 just authority ; for they are unwilling to acknowledge moral 
 and intellectual Law ; but triumphant force always finds 
 them much better for its purposes than we should be tempted 
 to believe. History testifies this constantly. The powerful 
 trafic with them, and offer them, in return for the sacrifice 
 of real rights, some part of their glory and influence ; the 
 shame of the sacrifice is concealed, and the recompense 
 fflitters ; besides, the vain indemnify themselves for the 
 humiliations they undergo, by those which they distribute 
 below themselves. There are few causes which make men 
 more dependent upon others, than the inexhaustible inter- 
 ests of vanity. Yet as all wish to appear independent, the 
 vain are reduced to take the only means left to them, which 
 are, to disavow and to violate subordination. Among nations 
 which pride governs, several have known how to enjoy lib- 
 erty ; but in those where vanity rules, not one. 
 
 The success of force often deceives the imagination, 
 through the illusion which accompanies the sight of all that 
 is extraordinary and gigantic. Men are inclined to sup- 
 pose something marvellous in its principle of action. By 
 means of this vagueness, which surrounds a wonderful thing, 
 the phantom of a mysterious authority is introduced ; false 
 
INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 109 
 
 ideas of dignity and glory gather round the gloomy image 
 of force, and lend it a counterfeit brilliancy. They are 
 dazzled and fairly subjected. They cannot presume that 
 one human creature can subdue another, without the aid 
 of some unknown moral power ; and while admiring* the 
 effect, they respect the cause. This especially happens, 
 when power, although not rightful, is supported by talent 
 and genius. Servitude appears honorable, because men 
 think, that, by serving the successful, they i)orrow some of 
 their glory and honors. But this illusion takes place only 
 v/hen the sacred notions of justice have not preserved in the 
 soul the authority, which belongs to them : it seduces only 
 those v/ho have suffered themselves to be corrupted. In 
 general, all servility is great unfaithfulness to the moral Law. 
 Servility takes from justice, what it carries as a tribute to 
 power. After being spoiled of our own rights,' we shall 
 willingly abandon those of others, or rather we commence 
 with this last sacrifice. 
 
 Of what use is free space to a man whose limbs are par- 
 alysed ? Yet such is the pretended independence of him, 
 to whom every thing is possible, except ruling himself. 
 True independence belongs only to the free soul. It is 
 self-government which confers moral emancipation ; and it 
 is by obtaining this control, that man becomes sui juris, as 
 lawyers say, and is able to conceive, undertake, and accom- 
 plish all that he is capable of, and to act with all his facul- 
 ties. Then his thoughts, opinions, sentiments, and resolu- 
 tions, are his own. He becomes creative; for man can 
 create only by the help of what he draws forth from himself: 
 he creates only through the power of the will. He is able 
 to do without the independence which fortune gives, and 
 which is reserved to so small a number of social situations. 
 He can preserve, even in chains, the freedom he has receiv- 
 ed, for he acknowledges no other master than himself, and 
 no one can make him bend. The despot, armed with all 
 his thunders, and surrounded with all his train, turns pale 
 10 
 
101 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 in his presence. Truth and equity are a secure deposit in 
 his hand. He becomes upon earth a new, a moral power, 
 and rallies around him the conscience of the good, and 
 represses tyranny by the majesty of his attitude alone. 
 Should he become the martyr of a holy cause, his example 
 will live in posterity to encourage the timid, and be one 
 day the object of emulation. 
 
 True political liberty protects all lawful independence, 
 and leaves access to no servility, but at the same time cir- 
 cumscribes independence within proper limits. It is only 
 justice secured. It therefore establishes and maintains the 
 difficult and advantageous equilibrium between indepen- 
 dence and obedience, and strengthens them reciprocally. 
 But that justice may be secured, the rights of all must be 
 determined and represented, in the action of the political 
 powers to which all are subject, and by which all are cov- 
 ered with a common shield ; order and stability being even 
 considered in the first rank of rights, and of wants, since 
 they cover the others with a general safeguard. 
 
 The flatterers of power deceive it about its true interests, 
 when they repeat the common axiom, that the principle of 
 its authority must be covered with a cloud. Power, which 
 is Unlawful or uncertain about its titles, is the only power 
 which this advice can benefit ; for by the help of obscurity, 
 force may be taken for authority. But power founded upon 
 just pretensions, will only gain by producing them ; other- 
 wise its authority might be taken for force, and it would 
 lose in conviction what it might appear to gain in extent. 
 Besides, it is only by determining the true principle of au- 
 thority, that v/e can discover its bounds ; and all authority 
 is weakened and compromised, as soon as it passes its lawful 
 limits, because it then loses its character ; putting its moral 
 rights in question ; making itself doubtful ; challenging 
 resistance ; making resistance just in a degree ; and even 
 opening access to unjust resistance, and becoming a source 
 of difficulty, by awakening discussions which are dangerous 
 
INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. Ill 
 
 because they can only be terminated by definitions and 
 distinctions which the multitude cannot comprehend. The 
 secret of always commanding successfully, is to command 
 only what we ought; and the ascendency of authority con- 
 sists in its remaining irreproachable. Thus, obedience, 
 or rightful submission, is not less necessary to public liberty 
 than individual independence : it should even be severe in 
 proportion to the extent of the latter ; for obedience is the 
 condition of individual independence, and, that the one may 
 be preserved, the other must know how to respect. 
 
 With what pretext soever pride may seek to cover its 
 resistance to lawful authority, resistance cannot be honora- 
 ble. On the contrary, obedience is honorable, because it 
 is a homage rendered to the moral Law, and also because it 
 is one of the most generous sacrifices to the moral Law that 
 it is in the power of man to make. There is much more 
 true courage in obeying when we ought, than in resisting ; 
 were it only because the former is much more difficult than 
 the latter. '' By obedience," you say, " I should renounce my 
 will and ownership of myself." But is not obedience a volun- 
 tary act ? What is it to obey, except to know how to command 
 ourselves? The vain and frivolous, who pretend to be their 
 own masters, although they are only slaves to their o.wn 
 inclinations, would confess, if they were sincere, that they 
 only resist obedience, because obedience is difficult ; that 
 is, because it expresses a sacrifice to duty. How great is 
 the heart, where right is enshrined, as in a temple, and 
 where its worship is preserved in purity ! Blind that we 
 are, to what greatness might we rise, if we would only fear 
 to debase ourselves, and should consecrate ourselves to right ! 
 Doubtless, Law must be just, that obedience may take this 
 character ; but if it were not just, would it be Law? 
 
 The weak have their kind of opposition to the laws of 
 authori;y. Law not only commands to refrain and forbear, 
 which is often difficult for the weak, but in certain cases it 
 directs us to act and to presevere ; prescribing efforts 
 
113 ' SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 at which the weak are terrified. Besides, the weak are 
 changeable and capricious ; they want the unexpected and 
 new, and fear what is fixed and determined. The effemi- 
 nate resist obedience as they would a severe regimen. Not 
 only the passionate, but the enervated, soldier refuses the 
 yoke of discipline. 
 
 But the principal cause of resistance to the laws of au- 
 thority, is always insatiable selfishness : Law curbs this, 
 because it puts reins upon it. We say we wish to be inde- 
 pendent, but in reality we want to usurp. Obedience, 
 finally, is meritorious and useful, in proportion as it is faith- 
 ful to its principle, and, consequently, only so far it is moral 
 and enlightened. If we obey Law from the same motive 
 from which we submit to force, we do not obey, we yield ; 
 and if we submit to Law from interest merely, we follow a 
 selfish inclination ; we still do not obey. In all this there 
 is not a single idea of duty. We often find in children's 
 books, apologues composed to teach them obedience, by 
 proving to them that parents and masters only command 
 them to do what is really useful. It would be better to 
 address these fables to parents and masters, rather than to 
 children ; because they would then learn what they are often 
 ignorant of, — the true use they ought to make of their 
 authority ; but they give to children a false idea of obedi- 
 ence, if we abide by the morality which results from them. 
 The child must learn to see in submission, not utility only, 
 but moral obligation. Besides, you might give him an 
 argument which would turn against your own views. 
 Indeed we must never forget that man very often does not em- 
 brace what is most useful, even after having discovered it. 
 If you wish to teach obedience, you must teach two things, 
 rectitude and self-control ; the one as Law, the other as the 
 means of fulfiling it. 
 
 Obedience, when clearly understood, is composed of 
 respect and confidence. The sentiment of respect is some- 
 thing which softens, collects, calms, and purifies the soul ; 
 
INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 113 
 
 it benefits and quickens the heart, and produces a kind of 
 religious impression. To know how to recognise and ven- 
 erate what is above us, is to approach it ; and to feel our 
 inferiority, is to prepare ourselves for becoming great. 
 Respect elevates the soul, because it developes the faculty 
 of appreciating w^hat merits its homage ; it establishes the 
 only possible intercourse between ourselves and what is 
 above us, also making us worthy of cultivating this inter- 
 course. 
 
 The sentiment of confidence gives encouragement and 
 repose. It supplies us with the strength we fail in, and 
 preserves and nourishes what we possess. It is noble, 
 because there is always something noble in what is gener- 
 ous, and because confidence takes us from ourselves and 
 gives us to others. The generous self-abandonment which 
 accompanies it, disposes the heart to openness, and thus 
 renders it more accessible to the affections. 
 
 Love makes obedience easy and delightful; and obedi- 
 ence, rightly understood, prepares the way for love. Love 
 gives to childhood its docility ; gratitude continues its 
 influence by giving to confidence its noblest securities. 
 
 Obedience is then a great and general means of progress 
 for the human race. It serves to sum up and personify the 
 ideas of excellence for the use of those, who might not be 
 capable of finding them out, in all the generality of their 
 principles, in the whole extent of their consequences ; and 
 it clothes those ideas in a familiar language. Is it not with 
 this design that God has so disposed things upon earth, that 
 the most common condition of man is that of obeying, and 
 that he has called the most ignorant and numerous class, 
 and the weakest beings, more especially, to obedience ; so 
 that civil subordination becomes a kind of ladder, destined 
 to raise us progressively to the knowledge of our duties, 
 while at the same time, it is, as it were, a succession of 
 supports, designed to assist us in our eflTorts? Thus we 
 10* 
 
114 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 may remark, that great numbers are disciplined by the 
 practice of obedience. 
 
 We also see some men, who are improved by the exercise 
 of authority ; and it should always be so. We can well 
 conceive how he who is called to the honor of serving as 
 an organ of the Law of excellence, should be penetrated 
 entirely with its spirit, while he is its depositary ; and how 
 deeply he should meditate upon it, that he may serve it 
 faithfully. Yet experience shows us, that the exercise of 
 authority does not often do good to those to v/hom it is 
 entrusted ; sometim-es it even corrupts them. Less occu- 
 pied with the deposit they have received, than with the 
 privilege they enjoy ; turning their eyes, not towards the 
 source from which their mission comes, but towards the 
 theatre for its accomplishment, they use authority as a kind 
 of right Vv'hich naturally belongs to them ; they accept the 
 obedience of others as a personal tribute, vanity usurping 
 and corrupting the power in their own hands ; thus while 
 thinking to exalt, they debase themselves ; and resign their 
 true dignity ; for pretending to command others, they lose 
 power over themselves. 
 
 Happy is he, who can understand how to be free while 
 obeying, and to serve while commanding ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 
 
 God has destined man to be the prime agent on earth, to 
 reign by means of the arts, and, as it were, to complete His 
 work, by subduing, regulating, and cooperating with the 
 
RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 115 
 
 powers of nature, by favoring the developement of its vari- 
 ous organizations, and by transforming, combining, and ap- 
 propriating its productions to a multitude of uses. He has 
 inspired this superior agent, therefore, with an unbounded 
 desire for motion ; exciting him to both internal and exter- 
 nal activity ; the one consisting in the exertion of the will 
 and the operations of the mind ; and the other in the play of 
 the organs and the exercise of the body. From this well 
 known desire, properly satisfied, may spring abundant 
 external fruits, and the most delightful internal state. If, 
 on the contrary, this fundamental, imperious desire is not 
 satisfied, or satisfies itself blindly, we may fear all kinds of 
 destruction and disorder without and within ; all kinds of 
 trouble, suffering, and error. The rightly directed exercise 
 of activity is also the essential condition of the develope- 
 ment of the faculties of the mind and heart; it is necessary, 
 that it should mark their progress, prepare their applica- 
 tions, and preserve habitual harmony among them. It is 
 to the health of the soul, what motion is to the health of 
 the body. 
 
 It belongs to a good and wise civil government to prepare 
 the means in the external world, for individual activity to 
 take its regular course, and to divide the labor among indi- 
 viduals. The wisdom of such a government will consist, 
 especially, in leaving all paths free ; in removing obstacles 
 and extending impartial protection to all men. It belongs 
 to a good and wise moral government, i. e. to Self-control, 
 to regulate the activity of each individual, by pointing out 
 the most useful career, by keeping him in it, and ordering 
 the employment of all his faculties, in a manner the most 
 likely to make him pass through this career profitably and 
 v/ith honor. Society often errs in contributing to the devel- 
 opement of activity among its members, while, at the same 
 time, it excludes them from most of the ways in which they 
 could hope to exercise it ; but we often err on our part 
 also, in not taking advantage of the ways which are open 
 to us. 
 
116 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Sometimes we feel, without understanding, this want of 
 our nature, and suffer we know not why, seeking happi- 
 ness every where, except in activity, which can alone give 
 it. We thus become troublesome to ourselves ; objects lose 
 their value and interest; and because we are useless, every 
 thing becomes indifferent to us. Being ourselves good for 
 nothing, nothing seems to us good and profitable. This 
 moral disease especially threatens conditions which are for- 
 tunate, or reputed such ; and sometimes poisons all the 
 enjoyments of fortune. For being supported by vanity in 
 those false ideas which make happiness depend upon 
 exemption from fatigue, they refuse that regular activity 
 which might relieve them. It is true they continually seek 
 change, and call for new sensations in a thousand ways ; 
 but as they remain passive, the wants which devour them 
 are left unsatisfied, still acting as stimulants of the secret 
 inquietude which torments them, and which, not being 
 able to take a right course, is deceived and perverted, and 
 takes strange and capricious forms ; perhaps is converted 
 into a morose and gloomy misanthropy ; perhaps plunges 
 them into the abysses of voluptuousness ; perhaps suggests the 
 insatiable desires of vanity, until moral strength is exhaust- 
 ed, and at length consumed ; or through the effect of the 
 internal contradiction, which they nourish within them, 
 existence is lost in a sleep of apathy. 
 
 It is not opulence itself that involves this disease ; it is 
 the leisure which is often the consequence of opulence. 
 It is easy to create for ourselves in the midst of riches, a 
 great and noble sphere of activity, and in mediocrity to 
 remain idle. In all ranks, we meet parasites, who cannot 
 mark out for themselves any career, who seem bound by no 
 ties, and who move on, as it were, by chance. If such 
 ^persons have neither expansion of ideas nor fire of soul, 
 they may enjoy a kind of negative happiness; but wo to 
 them, however little they now realize their misfortune, if 
 they always remain like strangers in the midst of the great 
 human family ! 
 
RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 117 
 
 The same principle of moral disease, which produces a 
 kind of marasmus in some, may cause a burning fever in 
 others ; and we often perceive this towards the period 
 between childhood and youth. In youth, especially, the 
 desire for action is felt most deeply because all the faculties 
 are impatient to come into exercise : but it is then, also, 
 that inexperience and want of reflection expose us to mis- 
 understand the secret wishes which agitate us, and that, 
 eager to diffuse ourselves without, we may neglect to study 
 what is going on in the depths of our heart. Besides, labor, 
 which is the true vocation of activity, is a uniform and 
 serious thing ; and the impatience peculiar to th^^ age, does 
 not allow us to recognise in it that animated movement 
 which our nature demands. 
 
 Sometimes we witness a singular contradiction ; men 
 who are ^urged on by the desire of activity, are kept in 
 idleness by effeminancy ; the imagination keeps up a vague 
 inquietude, but the will has not sufficient spring to embrace 
 a sphere of positive operations ; and they neither enjoy 
 action nor tepose. Sometimes, on the other hand, when 
 understanding and perceiving their need of activity, they 
 err by seeking a course for it, which is, in fact, impractica- 
 ble, and do not let it take that which is possible. Some- 
 times they undertake several irreconcilable courses at 
 once ; at other times, they prematurely abandon that in 
 which they are engaged, and change unnecessarily, forget- 
 ting the great advantage there always is in going on, were 
 it only to profit by experience. And sometimes they rush 
 on their career, without taking time to make the necessary 
 provision ; they begin to advance in it without having well, 
 considered its end, and successive periods ; or they go 
 on without plan or reflection. Then they experience 
 reverses, and are weary, discouraged, and perhaps irritated. 
 Thus they bring disorder and inquietude around them, and 
 are discontented with themselves. They find they have 
 already passed over a portion of life in vain ; they are 
 
118 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 astonished and afflicted at the errors they have committed ; 
 they think them remediless ; bitterness takes possession of 
 the heart ; life is discolored ; and they perhaps recur to the 
 most dangerous emotions to divert or reanimate themselves, 
 and prefer suffering to ennui. Most of the human passions 
 are only the overflowing of an activity which has mistaken 
 its true course. In this sense, and in this only, " The 
 wicked man is a strong child ; '^ * or in other words, wick- 
 edness is a power unable to regulate, because it is ignorant 
 of itself 
 
 But self-control prevents or restrains these various 
 aberrations. First, it prepares for the study of self; we 
 must be self-collected, before we can observe ourselves ; 
 we must learn to measure our strength, before rushing upon 
 the arena; we must employ all the authority we can obtain 
 over ourselves, in order to oblige our heart to reform its 
 desires, and our understanding its judgment. And self- 
 control also leads us to repress those foolish inclinations 
 which seek the impossible ; to accommodate ourselves to 
 the sometimes severe and hard exigences of reality; — to 
 conquer the difficulties, which can be overcome, how hard 
 soever they may be ; to stop before those which are insur- 
 mountable ; and to rise up courageously after falling into 
 mistakes. It regulates the action and measure of all our 
 faculties, and prevents them from being wasted. Beside 
 choice and unity of purpose, two special conditions are 
 necessary to prevent activity from being destructive, and 
 to make it fruitful. These are perseverance and method, 
 which, when united, compose conduct ; but which, even 
 separate, are rarely well observed, and whose union is rarer 
 still. A good internal government, that is, self-control, 
 contributes very much to fulfil these conditions. 
 
 Most of our designs are rather the result of chance and 
 circumstances, than of our own calculations ; even those 
 
 /"=— — " — — — ■ ' — — — 
 
 * Hobbes. 
 
RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITT. 119 
 
 which exert the most important influence over our destiny^ 
 are often not dwelt upon with much maturity and reflection. 
 We cannot resist any occasion which solicits us. We do 
 not choose, but merely accept our course. He alone 
 chooses, who commands ; but we can only command our- 
 selves, not events ; and for want of knowing how to decide- 
 as to what circumstances depend upon ourselves, and what 
 absolutely resist us, we struggle against the inevitable, and 
 neglect the possible. We neither know how to create a 
 condition conformable to our character, nor to conform our 
 character to inevitable conditions, among which we must,, 
 especially, include those arising from social institutions and 
 conventional arrangements. Hence proceed so many false 
 and incomplete situations in the world, and the uneasiness 
 which is the consequence of them ; and hence constraint, 
 uncertainty, confusion, and suffering, in the exercise of 
 activity. 
 
 Our purposes, when thus determined by chance, are 
 unconnected, and are not parts of the same plan ; they have 
 no relation with any thing. Life is no longer formed of a. 
 single tissue, but is composed of inlaid work, joined, and 
 not woven together. Unity of purpose economizes the 
 faculties, redoubles their energy by concentrating them, 
 and makes them conspire together to lend each other mu- 
 tual aid. But there can be this unity only where there is 
 Law which assigns and preserves to each thing it rank : 
 in society this is administered by public authority ; in the 
 arts, by genius ; by reason in the sciences, and in the con- 
 duct of life, by self-control ; but by self-control only so far, 
 as it is the minister of virtue. 
 
 Perseverance facilitates, brings to perfection, and con- 
 solidates the execution of the plan conceived, and preserves 
 its results when it is accomplished. By continuing to go 
 on in the same way, at every step we take, light increases, 
 obstacles are removed, habits are contracted, experience 
 is acquired, the use of means becomes more familiar, the 
 
120 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 relation of details to the whole is more clearly defined, 
 security is obtained, and operations are more closely con- 
 nected. Every beginning is an experiment ; but every 
 experiment inevitably involves some error, and some loss of 
 strength. If we make many attempts, between which 
 there is little analogy, we shall be much fatigued, and 
 become incapable of producing any thing. And every time 
 we resume an interrupted performance, it is beginning 
 again; and every suspension is a loss of time and material, 
 and produces some imperfection and some want of harmony 
 in the whole. 
 
 The world is full of people who have conceived and 
 undertaken great and noble things. Perhaps there is not 
 one who has not formed some brilliant plans in early life, 
 and hoped to realize them. All these buds of promise, 
 however, are, as it were, borne away and dissipated by the 
 winds, before their maturity. We see nothing but baffled 
 or unconnected and incomplete performances. What was 
 wanting? To a great number, doubtless, either knowledge, 
 talents, the means of execution, or favorable circumstances. 
 To a great number, however, nothing was wanting, per- 
 haps, but perseverance to execute the plan, and carry it on 
 to its end. The Athens of Italy is ornamented with a 
 crowd of temples, v/hich rival each other in beauty of 
 architecture ; but not one is finished. The Tuscans in 
 this are a representation of what we all do every day. 
 
 Inspiration makes men of talents, and experience men of 
 skill : the first conceive, the second execute. These obser- 
 vations do not merely apply to the works of art, and the 
 management of affairs ; they apply also to the general plan 
 of our conduct, in which our morality and happiness are 
 involved. Here the applications seem less evident ; and 
 we are especially slow in convincing ourselves of the radi- 
 cal defect of our plan, or rather of the absence of ail uni- 
 form plan. But we may take example from material opera- 
 tions, in which the advantages of perseverance are more 
 
I 
 
 RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 121 
 
 evident, and are acknowledged, even by those who cannot 
 submit to the observance of it. It is deplorable, that those 
 beings most often are wanting in perseverance, whom nature 
 has endowed with eminent powers and treated with especial 
 favor ; it might be said, that perseverance is a compensa- 
 tion granted to mediocrity. Distinguished minds always 
 have sentiments superior to their station, and views more 
 extensive than the sphere in which they are placed. They 
 contain mysterious things within them, for which they can- 
 not account, and which, being developed, modify their 
 dispositions. They are therefore exposed to be diverted 
 from, and to mistake, the course which is suitable for them, 
 and to be dissatisfied with what they have begun. They 
 seem to struggle with destiny. Moreover, as they cannot 
 guide themselves by common experience ; as they penetrate 
 into unexplored regions ; as they rise higher than others, 
 and find no more beaten roads; they sometimes get en- 
 tangled in the midst of precipices, and are forced to retrace 
 their steps. But change of plan is generally the conse- 
 quence of weakness of character. The weak are restless, 
 impatient, and seek change ; they cannot adhere to the 
 motives which suggested their determinations ; they aban- 
 don them at the first trial ; they yield to all impressions, 
 and especially to those which are new, because they are 
 most vivid ; they have no perseverance, because they have 
 no self-derived impulse. In weak characters also, the 
 imagination is less curbed and exerts more influence, and 
 therefore it makes conduct changeable ; it continually 
 balances the being, who has become its sport, between 
 contrary exaggerations. Uniformity of action is, in several 
 respects, a difficult, painful, and fatiguing thing ; it requires 
 two kinds of effort, which are almost opposite in their na- 
 ture ; it requires us to know how to sustain, and how to 
 control ourselves at the same time : besides, it is without 
 attractions, or rather, in proportion as it is prolonged, it 
 takes their charm from natural things ; and novelty has 
 11 
 
122 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 such brilliant allurements ! How can we be astonished, 
 then, that so many people leave their work half executed, 
 and that we hardly ever find any thing really accomplished ? 
 Those alone persevere and finish, who have learned to be 
 masters of themselves. 
 
 Method, in the administration of minute things, is what 
 perseverance is, in the fixedness of the principal idea. 
 Man, being unable to obtain any thing from nothing, and 
 having the power only to collect ; his creations are mere 
 combinations, which are more learned in proportion as they 
 are complex and composed of various elements. Order then 
 is the first merit of his works. As it alone constitutes their 
 beauty, so alone it warrants their solidity and usefulness ; 
 for it determines the relations of parts to each other, and 
 the relations of the whole to the end. Order draws the 
 general plan; estimates advantages; decides conditions; 
 foresees difficulties ; and marks favorable occasions. Method 
 establishes the preliminaries, and prepares the materials of 
 the edifice. The elements, upon which we are to work^ 
 are ofi*ered to us, scattered, and in heterogeneous medleys ; 
 method draws them out, compares, classes, and puts them 
 at our disposal, furnishing us with means of judging, at a 
 glance, of the relative fitness of each, and of the place it 
 should occupy in the structure. Method creates means of 
 execution, adjusts the parts, and regulates the course of 
 successive operations, so that each may profit by those 
 which precede, and prepare for those which are to follow. 
 It does not suffer an instant of time, a single effort, or any 
 portion of matter to be lost ; it prevents lassitude and dis- 
 gust, because, at every step, it allows us to measure our 
 progress ; it keeps up strength, and gives encouragement, 
 by the secret influences of the harmony which breathes from 
 it. Method judges of the advantages, the use, and the 
 seasonableness of what has been executed ; it furnishes 
 means of preservation, and puts them within reach ; it 
 alone can render wealth profitable, and prevent that con- 
 
TEMPER. 123 
 
 fusion, through which nothing is properly used. It sim- 
 plifies what is complicated, and diffuses universal light. 
 It serves as an aid to memory, as inspiration to imagination, 
 atid as light to the judgment. It calms and gives energy 
 to the will, and produces facility and security in action. 
 Even to see order reign around us, enables us to do every 
 thing better, and feel a certain degree of inward serenity. 
 The order which] is diffused without, penetrates us by a 
 secret sympathy, and puts us involuntarily in unison with 
 itself And method supposes beforehand the power of 
 governing at once both our minds and the movements of 
 our souls. It is a privilege of internal liberty. It is an ex- 
 pression of Law ; that is, of enlightened authority. It is 
 the very genius of reason, ruling all the faculties of our 
 being. 
 
 J' Abandon things to themselves, and, moved by heteroge- 
 neous impulses, their confused jumbling will produce what 
 we call chance. This will happen to our ideas, sentiments, 
 and resolutions, if we do not first know how to govern 
 them, and to bring them under the power of reason, which 
 ought to be their regulator, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TEMPER. 
 
 There is within us an influence, which does not proceed 
 from ourselves, and yet does not come from without ; of 
 which the origin, progress, and character are equally unde- 
 termined. It is a kind of moral Proteus, a truly hidden 
 power, which so governs our intellect, that we think we 
 really see things such as it suggests them to us, and which 
 so governs our will, that we think we wish for what it 
 
124 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 prescribes to us. There is nothing logical or argumentative 
 in it ; we know not whence it comes, or at what it aims. 
 Every thing about it seems spontaneous and capricious. 
 It is not one of our faculties, and yet it is identified and 
 incorporated with them, modifying them at pleasure, and 
 concealing them from our own observation. It moulds our 
 minds and characters ; sometimes giving them so singular 
 and unexpected an aspect, that we can hardly recognise 
 them ourselves. Sometimes smiling and serene, it delights 
 to adorn objects, and exhibit them in their most agreeable 
 aspects, making every thing seem easy to us, flattering our 
 hopes, quieting our vexations, disposing us to calmness, to 
 forgetfulness of self, and seeming to bring both our inward 
 life and all that surrounds us into harmony. Sometimes 
 sad, restless, and even savage, it throws a pall over nature,, 
 peoples the future with dark phantoms, agitates us without 
 cause, pursues us with vain terrors, makes us torment our- 
 selves, seems to rob us of our dearest affections, to corrupt, 
 to poison every thing, even our thoughts, condemning our 
 hearts to a kind of exile, and urging us to diffuse abroad 
 our internal troubles. Thus it disconcerts the preconcep- 
 tions of philosophy and morality ; sometimes seeming to- 
 render their aid useless, so natural and light does it make 
 the task which is imposed upon us ; and sometimes seeming^ 
 to render us unable to follow their counsels, so thick is the ^ 
 cloud with which it invests us. We see it lavish its favors 
 upon the most ordinary beings, and overwhelm with its 
 tyranny the most distinguished ; to sport with the same 
 man, and put him in contradiction to himself, by making 
 him feel by turns its tyranny or favors, not only at different 
 periods of his life, but at different hours of the day. 
 
 We are accustomed to call this power temper. Perhaps 
 it has not occupied the attention of moralists sufficiently. 
 There is something vague and confused in it, which escapes 
 observation. But it would be rendering a great service to 
 most men to mark it out for th^J^j and teach them to know 
 
TEMPER. 125 
 
 it ; for, like all impostors, it loses the greater part of its 
 means of success, as soon as it is unmasked. 
 
 Let those rejoice, whom this hidden power has treated as 
 favorites : let them accept its assistance, and profit by it, 
 using their strength better, for the great object of life, — 
 progress towards perfection. They would be guilty, if they 
 did no better than others, since it costs them less to do 
 well. But let them have two reflections constantly present 
 to their minds ; let them not forget, that the portion of ex- 
 cellence, when it is only the effect of a happy temper, is a 
 blessjng rather than a merit, and that they must therefore 
 take care not to glory in it, nor reckon it among their titles 
 to esteem ; and let them not forget how inconstant and 
 changeable this disposition is, and let them expect to need 
 greater courage, when it shall cease, or change into a con- 
 trary mood. 
 
 To those whom it has chosen for its victims, it offers 
 most abundant cause for the exercise of self-control, which 
 is more difficult in this case, as they must seize a fleeting 
 shadow, and can hardly distinguish the features of the 
 enemy they are to oppose, and as a great effort of reflection 
 is requisite to be sure of its presence. It is also the more 
 difficult, because this enemy presses upon them on all sides, 
 seizes them, as it were, bodily, and seeks to take possession 
 of the arms that must be employed against him. 
 
 The external education, which the customs of the world 
 give, teaches men. to subdue the effects of temper, in their 
 daily social intercourse, as a means of succeeding and 
 pleasing in society. For the latter object an enlightened 
 and cultivated reason, fidelity to the affections, generous 
 and delicate conduct, are not enough ; perhaps indeed they 
 are of much less importance than charming manners, facili- 
 ty of intercourse, condescension and grace. But, thus 
 debarred from outward expressions, the temper may only 
 make greater ravages than where it is unshackled. And 
 we frequently see people, who wear in society a serene 
 11* 
 
126 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 brow, and are gay and obliging, make those who impose 
 less restraint upon them, pay dearly for the momentary 
 sacrifice, vexing their own families with their temper, even 
 obliging their friends to endure its effects, and their most 
 intimate friends too ; because they feel more safe in intima- 
 cy, and are more at ease. Yet the closer the ties are which 
 unite us to others, the worse it is to deprive them of the 
 enjoyment they may expect from us, — the worse it is to 
 grieve them and make them suffer : for we may thereby put 
 them in danger of mistaking our true sentiments, check the 
 overflowings of confidence, destroy their self-surrendering^ 
 trust, and interrupt the interchange of consolations and 
 advice. Under this external restraint is produced and 
 nourished susceptibility, which makes us imagine we are 
 constantly injured by those among whom we live, as if we 
 enjoyed a kind of satisfaction and complacency in thinking 
 others guilty ; thus, after having made us commit real faults, 
 suggesting new ones to justify the first ; so that, by a 
 series of sad reactions, what was at first only an involuntary 
 impulse, terminates in injustice, and sometimes embitters 
 the most sacred and precious relations of life. 
 
 Let us pity those, however, whom this j^hidden disease 
 torments, and let us not condemn them with too much 
 severity ; for it is upon themselves its blows chiefly fall. An 
 undefined uneasiness besets them ; a strange poison circu- 
 lates in their veins ; they suspect, accuse, and punish 
 themselves without cause ; for temper, in order to oppress 
 them, may even take the form of remorse. They fly from 
 themselves as from a troublesome guest, and find themselves 
 again in the midst of the distractions which they go out of 
 themselves to seek. To them nature seems to have dried 
 up the sources of the innocent pleasures, which are poured 
 out upon others. 
 
 What we call temper appears to be a general, and more 
 or less habitual disposition of the imagination, which, 
 without being attached to any precise object, diffuses over 
 
TEMPER. 127 
 
 all the same hue, and afterwards, from the intimate relation 
 of our ideas with our feelings, extends, if not into the depths 
 of the heart, at least upon its surface, and is confounded 
 with our inclinations. Sometimes this disposition is a nat- 
 ural effect of physical temperament, or of the momentary 
 state of the organs. In this case, if it have a sorrowful 
 character, morality has no remedies to carry to the principle 
 of the evil. We cannot help suffering ; we are merely 
 permitted to suffer with patience : we cannot help being 
 solicited by impulses fatal to our character and happiness ; 
 we are allowed merely to disavow them and refuse ourselves 
 to them. We must establish a wall of separation between 
 these blind influences, and our own will ; and take refuge 
 in our conscience, as in an asylum which they cannot reach. 
 As vigilant sentinels, we must be constantly on our guard 
 against any subtle dangers which may surprise us. At the 
 moment of a crisis, and when a kind of fatal delusion 
 transforms the realities of things to our eyes; when a veil 
 seems to cover the images of the true and the good, which 
 charmed us in happier moments, we must oppose the testi- 
 mony of our remembrances ; and let the storm pass away, 
 in hope of the return of a more serene horizon. Then we 
 shall acknowledge, how advantageous it is for man to have 
 formed for himself, beforehand, fixed and rational maxims, 
 that regulate his sentiments and settle his opinions, so that 
 he is never unprovided and defenceless in those deserts, 
 which he must sometimes traverse to complete the journey 
 of life. Thus the prudent man will provide himself, during 
 the brightness of the day, with the knowledge and disposi- 
 tions by which he is to be guided in the midst of darkness ; 
 and congratulate himself on having established his self-eul- 
 ture upon solid foundations. 
 
 But if the state of the temper depends partly upon physi- 
 cal causes, it equally depends upon moral causes ; and if we 
 cannot directly check its effects, we can indirectly prevent 
 them, by acting upon principle. 
 
128 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 A peevish temper is the natural consequence of the satie- 
 ty and disgust which accompany excess of pleasure ; of the 
 lassitude which succeeds to the violence of passion ; and 
 of the mistakes which punish presumptuous ambition. It 
 arises from the contrast between our pretensions and our 
 -situation, between our means and our desires. It arises 
 not only from our discontent with our fate, but from every 
 species of uneasiness : it is the sad consequence of a want 
 of self-satisfaction ; of the remembrance of irreparable 
 errors, and of our feeling the necessity of covering and 
 concealing shameful weaknesses. A black vapor seems to 
 arise from every moral distemper, and obscure the soul's 
 horizon. Even the aberrations of virtue may produce a 
 similar effect, through the abuse of solitude and the excess 
 of austerity. 
 
 Hence temperance derives new motives to avoid all exag- 
 geration, as well as new motives to moderate our wishes to 
 the measure of our condition. Hence also arises a new argu- 
 ment for accepting the pleasures offered to virtue, for en- 
 joying peace and serenity, for not breaking the alliance of 
 duty and happiness, and for accepting the doctrines, which, 
 according to the instructions of morality, heighten the value 
 of true and pure pleasures, and save us from exaggerations, 
 which might render us too severe towards ourselves. If 
 we wish to try a remedy, which, when we are beset by the 
 vapors of a sad and gloomy temper, never will be ineffica- 
 cious, let us seek to give to others consolation, happiness, 
 or even mere pleasure. This remedy is infallible. If we 
 are in a solitary situation, in which we can find no aid by 
 being useful to others, the care of mere animals, relieving 
 their sufferings, providing for their wants, and procuring 
 them comfort, has been known to clear away these vapors. 
 Weak characters are most exposed to be surprised and 
 governed by temper. Every thing wounds them, and they 
 do not know how to resist. They cannot will what they 
 desire. They contradict, belie, and torment themselves. 
 
ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 129 
 
 They live in chaos. They are not firm enough to remain 
 bound to their resolutions and principles. They are dis- 
 contented with things, because they are unable to master 
 them : and with themselves, because they continually dis-^ 
 appoint their own expectations. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Among the numerous errors, which arise from the asso- 
 ciation of ideas, one of the most common leads men to 
 overrate the value of the instrument, and confound the 
 means with the end. The very important consequences of 
 this mistake to morality, we have, more than once, had 
 occasion to remark ; and among its consequences we may 
 uow observe, that it has served to give credit to false and 
 dangerous ideas of the merit of self-control. Men forget 
 that this merit is essentially relative ; they suppose, that we 
 cannot sufficiently triumph over ourselves ; that virtue con- 
 sists in victory rather than in the end for which it is gained ; 
 that it is good morality to sacrifice one's self as a victim, 
 without considering upon what altar the sacrifice is made. 
 And has not the same cause led us to transfer the ideas of 
 glory to public opinion, which is only its organ? 
 
 It is true that by preserving the direction of all the pow- 
 ers, keeping each one in its proper rank, and by presiding 
 over the whole economy of our internal being, we fulfil 
 one of our chief duties, and at the same time present 
 the noble and majestic spectacle, of the accomplishment 
 of a mission received from God. For, in so doing, we sup- 
 port the dignity of our nature, and preserve one of the 
 noblest works of the Creator, to the end for which it was. 
 
130 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 destined. This is one of those duties, which admit of no 
 interruption. But although man ought always to have 
 command of himself, it does not follow, that he ought con- 
 tinually to restrain himself; or that every exercise of self- 
 government thereby becomes worthy of praise. Law is not 
 always in action, nor is it an insatiable principle. There is 
 sometimes more real strength in the attitude of repose; and 
 often more wisdom of government in moderating the sacri- 
 fices that are required of us. The exercise of this internal 
 power, like that of external power in society, changes its 
 nature, ceasing to deserve esteem, when it ceases to be use- 
 ful. Tributes are not an obligation, when they cannot be 
 made use of. This fundamental mistake seems to us to have 
 led the Stoics of antiquity astray : it has reappeared more 
 than once in modern sects ; and it every day practically 
 deludes excellent people. In reading the writings of the 
 Stoics, we meet continually with what logicians call a 
 petitio 'principii ; upon every occasion they recommend 
 strength of soul ; but when we press them with questions 
 upon the definition of the sovereign good, upon the purpose 
 of the efforts they demand of us, and of the constraint they 
 impose upon us, still it is to strength of soul that they refer 
 us, as if we fought for the pleasure of fighting, and that 
 we ourselves might be witnesses of this tournament. The 
 same observations might be made about the virtues of Sparta 
 and Rome, which are so much recommended to our admira- 
 tion. They are a serious, laborious, and sometimes cruel gym- 
 nastic struggle, but often without any real object. In several 
 of these pretended heroes, we seek in vain for successors to 
 Hercules and Theseus, the avengers of the oppressed, and 
 'destroyers of monsters ; we find only rivals of Milo, display- 
 ing their vigor in Olympic games. The same might be 
 said, in some respects, of certain anchorites, if the motives 
 of their austerity were not out of the sphere of human mo- 
 rality. But, in the eyes of the world and of superficial men, 
 ^hese indolent exercises of an internal power, and these. 
 
ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 131 
 
 aimless sacrifices, appear wonderful, and are estimated, not 
 from their real merit, but from the surprise they excite ; 
 being praised, not as things good in themselves, but as 
 extraordinary things ; and they are praised the more readily, 
 because there is nothing in them offensive to others, and 
 all that is extraordinary in them is purchased entirely at 
 the expense of their authors. We here recognise the preju- 
 dice, which makes men confound Law with force, and 
 gives force the power of deluding the imagination of men ; 
 for, in the internal government of the soul, we evidently 
 mistake what is merely the blind action of a force, for the 
 rational employment of the authority over himself, which 
 has been imparted to man. 
 
 If we wish to perceive, by a manifest proof, that the 
 merit of sacrifices, of courage, and even of patience, is 
 necessarily relative, we must observe whether the wicked 
 themselves are not capable of braving danger and support- 
 ing pain without trembling ; and whether all the passions 
 have not their appropriate sacrifices. What should we say 
 of a man, who mutilated one of his limbs, and sacrificed hi» 
 life, for the sole purpose of exercising the power he has over 
 himself; or of him, who should throw his patrimony into the 
 sea, to enjoy his own disinterestedness ? 
 
 No ; — man is not destined thus to become his own sport ; 
 to fill in his own presence the deplorable office, which the 
 gladiators filled before the Roman people, by diverting 
 himself with a useless and bloody struggle. There are 
 certain privations, which, without having an actual and 
 immediate advantage, may serve as a preparatory exercise, 
 to teach us to endure, with less suflfering, those which will 
 one day come unexpectedly ; and, it is a foresight of prudence, 
 as well as the counsel of virtue, to keep up, by this kind of 
 exercise, the moral energy, which will sooner or later ex- 
 perience so many rough trials. But here ends the real 
 merit of voluntary sacrifice, and, as soon as it passes these 
 limits, becoming useless, it may, at the same time, become 
 
132 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 fatal. Indeed there are exertions which exhaust, as well as 
 some which strengthen. We have not such an abundance 
 of moral energy as to be permitted to lavish it unnecessarily. 
 That which we spend in surperfluous efforts, we shall want 
 for really profitable actions. Aftei getting fatigued during 
 peace, we shall find ourselves unable to fight in the presence 
 of the enemy. Do we not see men, who have carried aus- 
 terity to the last excess, more incapable of restraining them- 
 selves on difficult occasions, and more implacable in anger 
 and revenge, than others ? And if their lips touch by 
 chance the cup of pleasure, do they not grow intoxicated 
 with a single draught? 
 
 Far from following the ways of virtue, it is wandering 
 from them inevitably, to get out of nature's path ; for it is 
 baffling the designs of Providence. Nature calls for no 
 fruitless efforts, and to no destruction which does not con- 
 duce to a reproduction. Good actions, like fine thoughts, 
 must come forth, as it were, spontaneously : they are pro- 
 duced less easily under habits of constraint. In a prolong- 
 ed torture, virtue loses something of that simplicity, confi- 
 dence, and serenity, which render the practice of excel- 
 lence easy and delightful. It seems to belie its promises, 
 and become an enemy to itself Thus a mind constantly 
 occupied with interrogating, analysing, and regulating 
 itself, ends by losing ease and fruitfulness. 
 
 The soul must be free, that it may take its moral flight, 
 and that virtue may be what it ought to be, great, active, 
 and generous. There is a naturalness in the productions 
 of the soul, as in those of the intellect, which preserves 
 their freshness, life, and grace, and which is lost in the too 
 prolonged watching and criticizing of one's self True 
 virtue is spontaneous and ingenuous. When desiring to be 
 made up of artificial merits, we corrupt the gifts of Provi- 
 dence, which it would have been better to improve. 
 
 The power, which is given to man over himself, is, in 
 reality, a real protection, like all lawful authority. It ought 
 
ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 133 
 
 then to be benevolent, and mild, and sometimes even indul- 
 gent. Certainly, the moral man must not be his own idol ; 
 but it is not requisite that he should therefore be his own 
 enemy ; and he is not allowed to be his own tyrant. All 
 caprice, vexation, and violence towards himself are forbid- 
 den. They would be truly unjust ; for he receives his own 
 happiness as a deposit ; he is charged to preserve it with 
 care ; he answers for it to his Creator ; and a blind and 
 aimless austerity not only baffles this beneficent intention 
 by depriving its victim of a portion of happiness, but intro- 
 duces into man's internal communion with himself some- 
 thing inexpressibly sad, unquiet, and gloomy. It becomes 
 a troublesome and vexatious guest within his bosom. He 
 regards himself with a fearful, ferocious eye, threatening 
 and fearing himself perpetually ; flying from and pursuing 
 himself without relaxation. 
 
 It is especially in the exercise of self-control, that we are 
 more particularly exposed to let the inward satisfaction of 
 having done well be corrupted by a secret mixture of vanity. 
 In the use of this power, as of every other, there is some 
 thing which flatters and seduces us. We boast of having 
 been able to execute a difficult thing ; we enjoy being 
 strong; we are secretly exalted with our own triumph, and 
 think we delight in the accomplishment of duty. And we 
 give ourselves up securely to these dangerous pleasures. 
 The Stoics were not exempt, perhaps, from this secret pride ; 
 it appears more than once in their language, and in the 
 heroism which they affected. But when we observe closely 
 these martyrs of excellence, we find they are mere wrestlers, 
 who contend for the meed of opinion. Proud of the victory 
 which they obtain every day, they can ill help feeling 
 contempt for those who have not the same courage. They 
 cease to be indulgent, and thus lightly esteem the efforts 
 attempted, and the obstacles met with, by those who have 
 not performed such difficult things. 
 
 12 
 
134 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 When we impose endless sacrifices upon ourselves at 
 pleasure, we are easily inclined not to feel the value of 
 those which other men make, and of which, perhaps, we 
 are the occasion. Accustomed to abuse the power we have 
 over ourselves, we become imperious and exacting towards 
 others. At length we become less accessible to the emo- 
 tions of pity, habituated as we are to have no pity upon our- 
 selves. 
 
 Deprived of inward repose, we involuntarily disturb those 
 around us. In this state of restraint to which we condemn 
 ourselves, we cannot feel that self-forgetfulness which con- 
 stitutes the charm of social intercourse. The sweet rela- 
 tions of friendship and domestic life are all affected by the 
 internal uneasiness we feel. The heart isolates and shuts 
 itself up involuntarily. Besides, the excess of austerity 
 rarely fails to render us unmerciful. Bat of all the abuses 
 of self-government, let us especially guard against this, 
 which may so lead us astray as to make us sacrifice innocent 
 affections. Such a sacrifice would be odious to virtue and 
 injurious to it; for it would deprive it of one of its most 
 powerful auxiliaries. There are guilty as well as useless 
 sacrifices ; and such are those which would war against the 
 faculties of our mind and heart. These gifts have been put 
 in our keeping, and their cultivation and perfection are 
 also among our first duties. But we do not at first perceive, 
 and experience alone discovers to us, that every wrong use 
 of pov/er over self, even when it seems to be only made up 
 of indifferent sacrifices, may, by being prolonged, indirectly 
 dry up the source of our faculties, weakening our sensibili- 
 ties, and even our reason. It may also, on other occasions, 
 destroy the natural equilibrium of our moral and intellectual 
 powers. These excesses have often excited the imagination 
 to the most impetuous flights, and favored all its illusions 
 and wanderings. They have roused ardent passions, the 
 transports of which an exalted imagination increases. It 
 might be said, that the powers placed in man by nature, 
 
ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 135 
 
 not being able to follow their course, when thus tyrannical- 
 ly opposed, seek to come to light in some unexpected 
 way, with a violence equal to the constraint which they 
 have undergone ; and yet, by means of this very self-impos- 
 ed austerity, men are more easily deluded about the errors 
 which they suffer to lead them astray : they cannot believe 
 that they would endure such a servitude, when, in another 
 respect, they exercise such tyranny over themselves. They 
 resemble those despots, who, while oppressing others at the 
 instigation of their caprices, secretly obey some favorite. 
 
 But of all the disadvantages to which the abuse of Self- 
 government gives rise, that is the most deplorable, which 
 causes doubts about virtue itself, and inspires aversion to 
 it, making it misunderstood. It is comparatively, a slight 
 thing to deprive ourselves of the enjoyment of the peace, 
 which should reward the practice of excellence ; for in this, 
 we only suffer a personal injury : but to bring discredit in 
 the world, on that holy cause, against which are already 
 •raised so many prejudices and obstacles; to drive back from 
 the paths of improvement so many weak beings, who are 
 already terrified at the contemplation of the sacrifices 
 strictly necessary ; to offer virtue to man, with a savage and 
 gloomy countenance ; to expose it to be confounded with 
 sterility of heart or harshness of will ; to conceal from view 
 the rewards it promises ; to separate it from happiness ; 
 these are almost crimes, — for they are an immense injury 
 to the human race. 
 
 Let us then cease to extol the singularities of that false 
 heroism, which brings forth prodigies fruitless in real ex- 
 cellence. Let us rather leave them, buried in the obscurity 
 of the solitude in which they so justly delight. They are 
 not the instructions which men want. Let us show them 
 examples, which they can follow and love to imitate. 
 
SECTION III. 
 
 THE HARMONY BETWEEN THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE 
 AND SELF-GOVERNMENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONSISTENT CHARACTERS. 
 
 The Love of Excellence and Self-government are each, 
 separately, a principle of harmony. The former produces 
 harmony in the sentiments, the latter in the actions ; one 
 gives unity to motives, the other brings the faculties under 
 a controlling guidance. But a new harmony results from 
 the union of these two great powers, without which the Love 
 of Excellence is but a vain speculation, and Self-control a 
 blind force ; and without which the same disorder would 
 arise within us, which is manifested in society, when the 
 laws have no ministers to bring about their execution, or 
 when the agents of power are not subjected to the direction^ 
 of Law. When in alliance, the Love of Excellence be-» 
 comes practical action, and Self-control is animated with a 
 holy inspiration; a result resembling the union of theory 
 and practice in the arts. Unfortunately a great number of 
 men have not sufficient strength to do justice to their mo-> 
 tives, or not enough motives for their strength. Thus in-* 
 tentions remain fruitless, and strength is wasted ; the latter 
 being often converted into poison, and good intentions, by 
 going astray, committing the more ravages, because they 
 are good. 
 
 Consistent characters are those, in which harmony 
 reigns. Perhaps those of this rank are more frequent than 
 we think, especially in the middling and obscure Qonditions, 
 
CONSISTENT CHARACTERS. 137 
 
 Irregularities strike the eye more than what is in order. 
 The superficial observer only remarks eminences ; but by 
 the side of each projection, there are cavities, and it is often 
 by our inequalities that we are distinguished. 
 
 But we may not apply to morality the false ideas, which 
 we imbibe concerning the value of worldly things. Accus- 
 tomed to estimate objects by their rarity and their extraor- 
 dinariness, and by the exertions they have cost, rather than 
 by their real merit, we sometimes pass a like judgment upon 
 characters. Yet a consistent character, although accom- 
 panying ordinary faculties, is much nearer perfection, than 
 an inconsistent one, united with the most brilliant qualities. 
 This proposition may shock our prejudices, but it is 
 approved by true philosophy. It should however be well 
 understood, that we refer to the natural limits of faculties, 
 not to mediocrity which is the result of our own neglect. 
 Besides, do we not sometimes mistake, and give the name 
 of mediocrity to what is only modest ? The beauty of the 
 moral edifice not only consists in the grandeur of the di- 
 mensions, but also, and especially, in the wisdom of the 
 proportions. In a consistent character, every thing conspires 
 at once to the same end; all the qualities aid and sustain 
 each other ; no one baffles the desire and destination of 
 nature. It is like a piece of mechanism, whose machinery 
 is exactly adjusted, in which no movement is lost, and the 
 friction is imperceptible. Persons of this character attain 
 happiness most easily. They will enjoy without celebrating, 
 and even without defining their enjoyment, just as we breathe 
 a free, sweet, and pure air. They alone are secure. With 
 them every thing is in its place, and each action answers to 
 its end. And what is happiness, but this secret sense of a 
 general and constant internal harmony? We say, internal ; 
 for, if all within harmonizes, we shall be at peace with what 
 is without ; since nothing external can affect us immedi- 
 ately, and outward things act upon us only through the 
 influence we grant them. Consistent characters are those, 
 12* 
 
138 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 which in social intercourse are easy, sure, and gentle : we 
 do not clash with them, and they are never wanting, nor 
 contradictory to themselves ; their stability excites confi- 
 dence ; their frankness induces self-surrendering openness ; 
 we feel at ease Math them ; we are not offended with their 
 superiority ; doubtless we admire them less, but we also 
 hardly dream of feeling envious of them ; and they seem 
 almost to disarm malignity, by^the peaceful influence of their 
 presence. 
 
 When the paths of progress seem arduous, it is because 
 we seek them in a different direction from that marked out 
 by Providence. If we knew how to be consistent, many 
 things which appear difficult would become easy, and many 
 things which seem bitter would be sweet. Consistent char- 
 acters are to morality what great minds are to science. We 
 often see men who aspire to success in study, yet blindly 
 prejudiced against all general views. They aspire to be- 
 come entirely pefAiliar men, in order to borrow the denomi- 
 nation, which they themselves sometimes give to the kind 
 of merit they are ambitious to acquire. This direction of 
 the mind may have had its advantages in the infancy of 
 human knowledge and industry ; it was necessary, then, 
 to divide, in order to begin well. Hence, the use of corpora- 
 tions and wardenships in trades ; and peculiar minds greatly 
 resemble the ingenious vv^orkmen, formed by the manage- 
 ment of the wardenships. But, in proportion as the human 
 mind advances, the reciprocal relations of different kinds 
 of knowledge are brought to light; the assistance which 
 the arts lend to one another is discovered, and henceforth 
 skill consists in following them out in their various relations 
 to each other. All great discoveries are placed at the points 
 of coincidence between different series of ideas or observa- 
 tions. Great minds always seize upon analogies ; they 
 discover similitude in diversity. Genius dwells in the focus 
 where all rays meet. Peculiar men always become small, 
 if any circumstance displaces them, even if it is to elevate 
 
CONSISTENT CHARACTERS. 139 
 
 them. Look, for example, at geometricians, when they are 
 brought to judge of moral science ; and at mere lawyers, 
 discoursing of administration and politics. But this, which 
 we observe in regard to the progress of the intellect, is much 
 more applicable to moral progress ; in the latter, men are 
 not divided and subdivided into professions and casts ; their 
 vocation is common ; it is complete for each one : the wide 
 paths, which are suitable for the intellect in the highest 
 periods of its developement, are also those into which the 
 soul ought to enter at the commencement of its moral exist- 
 ence. In this, virtue fulfils the functions which genius does 
 in science ; it should take possession of those qualities of 
 the character which are central, because those exert a gen- 
 eral influence over all the habits. 
 
 Oddity and singularity are signs of an incomplete charac- 
 ter, the elements of which are not in harmony either with 
 themselves, or with the conditions in which the individual 
 finds himself placed. Originality can very well be united 
 with a consistent character, since it consists in drawing 
 from ourselves the motives of our conduct and the elements 
 of our opinions; but it degenerates into oddity, if we do not 
 sustain this character, that is, if, in pretending to govern 
 ourselves, we are governed, not by reason, but by caprice. 
 Our characteristics are generally our faults. And this 
 happens because we do not know how to convert our char- 
 acteristics into virtues, as we ought to do. We let them 
 follow the course which they have received from the natural 
 disposition, without submitting them to a rational cultiva- 
 tion, or assigning them their rules and limits ; boasting of 
 the excellence of the quality in itself, and easily excusing 
 its going astray. The qualities, of which we should be 
 proud, are those which we owe less to nature than to our 
 own efforts. 
 
 Great passions always take something from our most 
 estimable qualities; which they exaggerate and corrupt, in 
 order to use ; and we become more violent and inflexible by 
 
140 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 this means, as well as more vain. It is for want of knowing 
 how to govern ourselves, how to direct the cultivation of our 
 faculties to that common end, which is assigned them by 
 the highest law, that we neglect to preserve that just equi- 
 librium between the different qualities, which would retain 
 each in its sphere ; and that every thing is abandoned to 
 itself Thus, some are exalted and wasted, and others 
 remain in a lethargic state ; and we find ourselves filled 
 with rebel powers, when we come to take the management 
 of our minds into our own hands. Many men seem false, 
 because they deceive us and disappoint our expectations ; 
 and yet they are only inconsistent and unfaithful to them- 
 selves ; they are, as it were, divided in halves ; half given 
 up to self-interest, and half to self-sacrifice, and they obey 
 each by turns. 
 
 Men's characters are rendered inconsistent by an internal 
 a.nd hidden limit, which arrests the energy of the will and 
 the course of the sentiments ; so that they cannot finish 
 what they have undertaken, nor hold to what they have prom- 
 ised. If we observe narrowly, we shall find that this limit 
 is generally an obstacle secretly raised by self-love. How 
 can this limit be made to disappear? Must we not give 
 unity to the character, and then establish a general principle 
 of conduct, and obtain power to be faithful to it 1 Now this is 
 exactly what is given by the union of the Love of Excellence 
 with Self-government. A sincere and profound attachment 
 to virtue banishes all discord from life. Virtue has of itself 
 a character of generality and constancy : the better it is felt 
 and understood, the more evident is this character. It 
 forms an entire and unbroken system, which embraces all 
 the affections of the soul and all the resolutions of life. It 
 admits of no distinction or division in the application of its 
 fundamental truths. Morality is one in its spirit, although 
 varied in its application : all duties are brethren, although 
 they are arranged in different ranks. A partial and restricted 
 virtue is not founded upon true principles. The farther we 
 
GREATNESS OF SOUL. 141 
 
 go back to the origin of the notions of excellence, the more 
 clearly we shall perceive the close consanguinity which 
 exists between them ; the better we shall know how to gov- 
 ern ourselves ; and the more we shall experience the aid, 
 which duties lend each other. A life inspired by the Love 
 of Excellence and regulated by reason, is like a beautiful 
 poem, in which every thing conspires to the principal unity^ 
 and in which the details, harmonizing with each other, are 
 distributed in a just gradation. It resembles a grand geo- 
 metrical demonstration, in which the corollaries flow from 
 one another, and are all derived from the same fundamental 
 theorem. In such characters all discords disappear, be- 
 cause chance does not influence the principle of action. 
 
 Three principal harmonies result from a just agreement 
 between the moral powers. Love of Excellence, and Self- 
 government : greatness of soul, dignity of character, and 
 internal peace. The first is brought out in actions ; the 
 second also appears externally ; but the last reigns in the 
 depth of our hearts. Let us try to find how they each result 
 from this two-fold principle. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GREATNESS OF SOUL. 
 
 There is something so admirable in greatness of soul, 
 that it cannot be contemplated without deep emotion. It 
 excites an ardent emulation within us ; it reveals to us some- 
 thing about the faculties of our nature, which we had not 
 perhaps suspected, but which we recognise to be a gift of 
 the human race. We feel a just pride in belonging to that 
 common country, where noble characters are produced ; and, 
 in the joy of this discovery, we almost feel confident that 
 
142 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 we are capable of imitating them. Greatness of soul unites 
 in itself the two noblest traits which belong to the character 
 of man ; it borrows from Love of Excellence all that is gen- 
 erous, and from Self-government all that is energetic. It 
 points out the end to which our nature arrives ; shows us 
 the whole extent of our liberty ; and teaches us of what we 
 are capable. 
 
 We can define this noble phenomenon, which dilFuses sd 
 pure a light over the earth, only so far as we have clearly 
 considered, and determined upon, the two moral powers 
 whose effects we are here considering, the two-fold influence 
 of which, greatness of soul unites in itself, in a very high 
 degree and in perfect harmony. 
 
 Certain passions, by developing extraordinary powers in 
 the soul, may render us capable of executing great things f 
 but in the results, which follow, how gigantic sover they 
 may be, we shall never find the impress of greatness of souL 
 We shall always discover something narrow in the outlines, 
 exaggerated in the execution, or servile in the impulse : 
 there will be a secret mixture of personal interest, and a cer- 
 tain extravagance. They are a kind of unnatural and htiel 
 crisis. Yet we may remark, that great things can only be 
 produced by those passions which are cherished by some 
 erring affection, or moral power, Never could sensuality 
 left to itself, or selfishness in its naked sterility, even, ii^ 
 their most violent excesses, succeed in imitating any thing 
 great. 
 
 Powerful effects are not enough to characterize great 
 actions ; for a machine can produce great effects. Great 
 actions are those which produce their effects by the energy 
 ef generous sentiments. 
 
 We may habitually cherish noble sentiments and lofty 
 thoughts, and yet not attain greatness of soul. It not only 
 demands, that such sentiments be put in action, but that 
 i'here be some boldness, and a certain degree of courage, in 
 the action which gives them impulse. It supposes an ia-^ 
 
GREATNESS OF SOUL. 14S 
 
 siffht into the future ; it must have a free field ; it needs 
 space ; it desires danger. What immediately touches us 
 is too confined ; the present is too transient ; and what is 
 evident and positive leaves too little merit to the determina- 
 tions of the will. 
 
 In magnanimity you will always find the impulse and 
 self-surrender of confidence ; it is faith in others ; it is 
 especially faith'in virtue. We would defy a skeptic to give 
 himself up to an impulse of magnanimity, if his skepticism 
 extended to morality. 
 
 Greatness of soul supposes a certain elevation in tho 
 mind, and the habit of frequent and easy intercourse with 
 general views, which are alone extensive. Habits of analy- 
 sis, if they are too exclusive and too prolonged, subtlety of 
 mind, refinement and delicacy of perception, may destroy 
 the noblest sentiments by taking from them the prospects 
 by which they need to be supported. A very ordinary 
 mind often betrays a generous heart; but, in order to aspire 
 to what it majestic, we must first conceive of majesty. 
 
 Greatness of soul is not satisfied with an individual and 
 very exclusive sentiment, in which it finds no support, and 
 meets too many limits. And this is doubtless the reason 
 why those men who possess it are generally less accessible 
 to the passion of love ; while the passion of glory attracts 
 them powerfully and would even become a stumbling-block^ 
 if greatness of soul did not remain true to its principle. 
 They find in glory a magnificent concert, echoing the secret 
 sentiments with which they are inspired, perpetuating the ex- 
 pression of them, and extending them on all sides. This 
 love of glory is a happy and useful instinct of great soul's. By 
 aspiring to great and brilliant actions, they naturally come 
 before our eyes, to enlighten and allure us by their example, 
 to instruct our age and posterity. Glory then to those, whom 
 magnanimity inspires ! let it surround them like a luminous 
 halo, that they may console and spread joy through the 
 world by their examples ! Let them come forth as the 
 
144 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 acknowledged flower of mankind, adorned with the richest 
 coloring ! Let them be considered as the ornaments of soci- 
 ety ! Let them appear like so many beacons, destined to 
 awaken in all hearts the virtuous affections, and to give 
 encouragement by inspiring high and lawful hopes ! 
 
 Greatness of soul is promoted by respect, admiration, and 
 a holy and pure enthusiasm ; for it looks upward, towards 
 what is essentially excellent. It is the peculiarity of great 
 souls to delight in the homage paid to noble actions. Far 
 from being accessible to envy, they feel a secret and deep 
 joy in seeing what is honorable honored. They promote, 
 and call on others for the homage, which is its due, and are, 
 as it were, absorbed with the triumphs of virtue. He who 
 does not feel the sentiment of respect, has no idea of truly 
 elevated things ; and he who is incapable of admiring what 
 is great, is incapable of producing it. True enthusiam is a 
 mixture of admiration and love, directed to what is good 
 and beautiful : it is an active, all-conquering sentiment. 
 In the arts it personifies : in morality it does more, it real- 
 izes. There are some minds, so blinded by vanity, as to 
 pretend to find a proof of their superiority in their inability to 
 admire. There are some men, who affect to disapprove of 
 an enthusiasm they know nothing of; thus transforming 
 their impotence into wisdom. Narrow souls give themselves 
 credit for enthusiasm when they are merely astonished ; and 
 ardent imaginations think they have enthusiasm, when they 
 are affected by external brilliancy. Let us beware of a 
 critical spirit, and beware also of an immoderate thirst for 
 success. The former will destroy, and the latter will mis- 
 lead the generating principle of magnanimity. 
 
 The great in soul always have an eminently natural char- 
 acter ; they appear to perform great actions with facility, at 
 least their efforts are unrestrained and easy ; and, that 
 which is extraordinary to ordinary minds, is common and 
 familiar to them. This is because the principles and germs 
 of magnanimity are in our nature. They are stifled there. 
 
GREATNESS OF SOUL. 145 
 
 only when we paralyse them ourselves ; they burst forth 
 when the bonds of personal interest are loosened. Besides, 
 every thing is true in the views magnanimity inspires, as 
 well as in the affections which promote it. It appreciates 
 the intrinsic value of things ; it is filled and penetrated with 
 the love of what is good. The consciousness which it 
 possesses gives it a just security, and an ease and calmness 
 which impart something firm, free, and finished to the action 
 performed. 
 
 In order that greatness of soul may be exercised, it is 
 doubtless necessary that circumstances offer it worthy occa- 
 sions ; and these occasions are rare. An opportunity for 
 its display is a privilege mostly reserved to the superior con- 
 ditions in society, which fortune or power have surrounded 
 with their favors : this privilege, however, is too little felt. 
 But there are other scenes, which, though concealed from 
 spectators, are not less fit for the exercise of this great 
 power. The presence of the spectator does not create, it 
 only makes manifest, what is great. Yet there are many 
 people, who cannot learn what is great but by the mouths 
 of others, and seem unable to understand it directly! 
 
 But, if magnanimity can only be manifested at times, still 
 it must be an habitual and constant disposition of the soul. 
 It cannot come by a stroke of will, and at the needful mo- 
 ment only. It must preexist, impatient to act, although it 
 may not understand itself clearly. In the presence of occa- 
 sion or example, it comes forth spontaneously, free, and full 
 of joy, like genius suddenly revealed in the presence of a 
 masterpiece. It is in virtue what genius is in the arts. 
 
 It is so true that a free and entire self-forgetfulness is one 
 of the essential and characteristic traits of greatness of soul, 
 that the vulgar are generally inclined to suppose it exists, 
 wherever this self-forgetfulness is shown in a brilliant man- 
 ner. This is the reason why it is especially recognised in 
 pardon granted to an enemy, in indifference to injuries, and 
 in disdain for the favors of fortune. Also, the two simplest 
 13 
 
146 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 forms of selfishness, covetousness and vanity, are more in- 
 compatible with it than any thing in the world. Self, when 
 it rules and brings every thing into subserviency to it, and 
 even is conscious of its own exclusive pretensions, is some- 
 thing so mean, so puerile ! Self-forgetfulness, however, is 
 only one of the conditions; and how perfect soever it 
 may be, is not enough to constitute greatness of soul. An 
 absolute indifference to one's self, moreover, would not be 
 elevated, even if it were possible. Self-forgetfulness must 
 be a real sacrifice, though it may be accompanied with joy ; 
 it must be made for worthy objects ; in a word, self-love 
 must be absorbed in and conquered by a purer love. 
 
 The great in soul have an intimate communion with each 
 other, and a language peculiar to themselves. This lan- 
 guage is sometimes hard to be understood by the vulgar ; 
 and there are men, who are not called vulgar, who do not 
 really understand it, and yet think that they have a right 
 to dispute its sense and value. 
 
 The great in soul sometimes neglect little things. It is 
 quite necessary that they should let the spirit of criticism 
 and envy have this consolation. 
 
 There is a sublimity in character as well as in the produc- 
 tions of the mind. It results from the two great principles, 
 which constitute greatness of soul, elevated to the last de- 
 gree. It consists in entire immolation to the voice of Excel- 
 lence, when the voice of Excellence requires absolute immo- 
 lation. This, which makes common souls tremble with 
 horror and affright, is embraced with so pure and true a joy 
 by the great, that it seems as if it were to them a reward, 
 rather than a sacrifice. It is less for them a burthen to be 
 borne, than a crown to be seized. But it does not always 
 consist in giving one's life ; there are some men, who give 
 their lives with levity. In some circumstances there is 
 more greatness of soul in awaiting d-eath, than there would 
 be in going to meet it ; there is sometimes more greatness 
 in consenting to live, and especially in being resigned to 
 
GREATNESS OF SOUL. 147 
 
 survive, than in braving or suffering death. There is a 
 sacrifice, which comprises every moment, and the whole of 
 existence, which implies the renouncement of all our habits 
 and inclinations, the sacrifice of our fortune, our plan of 
 life, and dearest affections ; this is voluntary exile. Also, 
 there are occasions, upon which we are called to brave 
 opinion, the prejudices of our country, and of our age. The 
 martyr of truth and virtue has more than once been touched 
 by apparent ignominy ; he has had to endure the judgment, 
 pronounced by vice and absurdity, and applauded by the 
 vulgar. Let worldly heroes be silent and bow before such 
 heroism as this. The former receive the applause of the 
 world, and its glory ; but the latter only its injustice, and 
 the suffrage of conscience. 
 
 The sublime in mental productions is always relative ; it 
 requires a concurrence of favorable circumstances, the 
 preparation which prevents surprise, and the art which col- 
 lects and concentrates the whole mind in a single and 
 rapid stroke. But the sublime in character is absolute, inde- 
 pendent, and permanent ; it draws every thing from with- 
 in ; it has no need of the aid of art ; it is not weakened by 
 multiplying itself, and loses nothing by being explained. 
 
 The great in soul are not great because they are sepa- 
 rated from the generality of men ; and if all should attain 
 to this eminent dignity, it would lose none of its value. 
 What elevates the soul to greatness, is loftiness of purpose, 
 and the generosity of the effort necessary to attain the end 
 in view. 
 
148 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DIGNITY OP CHARACTER. 
 
 Man, a creature of God, bears upon his brow, and still 
 more in the depth of his heart, the stamp of his origin. A 
 candidate for a future existence, he carries within him the 
 sign of this high calling ; and, a citizen of the universe, he 
 exercises in it a sort of magistracy and even priesthood. 
 There is a bond of communication between the material 
 and moral world ; and becoming acquainted with the first 
 through science, and governing it by industry, he enters 
 into the second by means of religion, virtue, and free will. 
 
 What is dignity of character, but this very dignity of our 
 natures, understood, cherished, and called forth in our 
 lives ? In what does it consist, but in sustaining, by our 
 sentiments and actions, the rank which Providence has 
 assigned us? The great in soul should keep guard over 
 this common dignity of mankind. It is a certain sign of a 
 degraded and depraved character, to feel a secret desire to 
 lower this dignity ; indications of which we sometimes 
 perceive, among those who perhaps are at the same time 
 vain, but certainly are very blind in their vanity. 
 
 But this original nobleness is maintained and justified by 
 all that we know of moral progress. And it is by becom- 
 ing better, that we find out its titles. And, also, in its turn, 
 the sense of this dignity helps us to become better. This, 
 for example, is manifested in the influence which certain 
 public solemnities, dramatic representations, and the sight 
 of rewards decreed to real merit, exert over those who share 
 in and are witnesses of them. The emotions which such 
 spectacles cause, by awakening in all hearts a deep sense 
 of the primitive nobleness of human nature, inspire in each 
 a secret desire to prove it in himself^ and seem, also, to 
 
DIGNITY OP CHARACTER. 149 
 
 raake him confident that he shall not fail. Under this happy 
 influence, the excellent appears natural, easy, and simple. 
 
 We continue, therefore, to observe the results, which 
 spring from harmony between those two great powers, 
 which lead man in moral progress. It is through Self-con- 
 trol, united to the Love of Excellence, that we obtain great- 
 ness of soul without pride, and modesty without meanness. 
 Dignity of character in man is the token of his initiation 
 into wisdom, and the seal of his consecration to excellence. 
 
 Dignity of character is the natural attitude of virtue. — 
 There is nothing noble and distinguished, even in the eyes 
 of the world, which does not suppose some degree of disin- 
 terestedness, as an essential condition. No bargain what- 
 ever, no equal exchange between contractors, will ever 
 receive this appellation : while forgetfulness of our own 
 interests is ever a noble thing, and all we do for the advan- 
 tage of others has dignity. There is meanness in all sordid 
 motives, and what was good in itself, ceases to be honor- 
 able, as soon as it is sought with a mercenary design. 
 There may be some dignity in making good our rights, but 
 it is only when we meet some obstacle or danger in defend- 
 ing them ; or, when we claim them less on account of a 
 personal feeling, than in the name of justice ; thus including 
 the rights of all in the same cause. 
 
 There is a natural dignity in purity of sentiments and 
 actions, as there is always something mean in what is 
 inspired by the allurement of sensual and present pleasure. 
 Innocence enhances what it adorns. Its dignity is the most 
 lawful of all dignity ; for it preserves untouched the deposit 
 confided to the free-will of man : modesty also is a respect 
 for one's self, which commands the respect of others. 
 
 There is a natural dignity in what is true. Hence sin- 
 cerity and frankness are honorable. Dissimulation and 
 falsehood may be profitable ; they may be combined with 
 skill ; but they are always base. This is not only because 
 all artifice is a sign of weakness, it is also because artifice 
 
 13 
 
150 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 relinquishes one of the titles, which constitute the excellence 
 of our nature. Besides, we are seldom false but from a 
 calculation of selfishness. 
 
 There is a natural dignity in every thing which expresses 
 the accomplishment of a duty. The dignity, which sur- 
 rounds the office of a magistrate and of a father, is not only 
 derived from the authority which is confided to them, but also 
 from the importance of the duties imposed upon them, and 
 which we suppose fulfilled ; besides, this authority, in one 
 respect, is really a great duty. Every profession, also, is 
 honorable, because of the obligations it imposes upon those 
 who hold it. 
 
 All abandonment of Self-control degrades us; drunken- 
 ness, for example, — which is the last degree of it. Analyse 
 what renders a thing ignoble, and you will always discover 
 a principle of shameful and extreme negligence. The 
 familiarity which takes from dignity of character and man- 
 ners, is not that which wears the condescension of kindness, 
 and the simplicity of modesty, in our intercourse with infe- 
 riors : it is that which supposes a want of circumspection 
 and self-vigilance. 
 
 Dignity of character involves a certain degree of severity 
 in the habits of life, of reserve in relations, of sobriety in 
 language, of collectedness, gravity, and seriousness in man- 
 ners. All these things show, that we know how to govern 
 ourselves, and that we are animated with the love of the good 
 and true. This is the attitude of a man, who' lives in the 
 presence of those lofty destinies, which Providence has 
 assigned as beyond the confines of earth and the present life. 
 
 Old age owes a portion of its dignity to the authority 
 which experience gives ; and misfortune, to the protection 
 with which Providence sourrounds it, by recommending it 
 to the generous. But old age and misfortune have still 
 another kind of dignity, which the former receives from the 
 proximity of a great future, where are resolved the moral 
 destinies of man; and the latter, from trial, which explains 
 
DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 151 
 
 and prepares us for that future. Besides, in the aged man 
 we see one who has long struggled ; and in the man touched 
 by adversity, one who is at the moment struggling. Both 
 are consecrated by the exertion of strength of soul. 
 
 A character loses it dignity as soon as it finds itself de- 
 ceiving expectation, contradicting and belying itself Fail- 
 ure is always ridiculous. 
 
 Agitation and inquietude injure dignity of character, 
 because they are a sign of weakness. We sometimes think 
 we shall acquire dignity by showing ourselves powerful and 
 strong ; but we are mistaken ; we must first, and at the 
 same time, be good. In true dignity of character there is 
 not only something imposing, but something also which 
 inspires confidence. The beholder feels, that in the habit- 
 ual decisions of such a character, nothing is the fruit of per- 
 sonal interest, and consequently nothing can become hostile 
 to him. In the merely strong man, he might fear an op- 
 pressor, but in the strong and good man, he may hope for a 
 protector. He sees the light of justice and truth shine in 
 such a character, and it serves as a guide to him ; he finds 
 the maxims established by reason, peTsonified, and therefore 
 follows them without repugnance, for it is not the individual 
 he follows, but the light of wisdom. The good man, in 
 whose soul virtue is deeply rooted, and who is consistent, 
 exercises a natural, imperceptible, and mild magistracy, 
 upon the earth. We respect him without his commanding 
 it, and obey him unconsciously. In his presence animosi- 
 ties are softened, ambitious desires are calmed or shamed, 
 the wicked turn pale, the weak are encouraged, and the 
 frivolous are first astonished and then begin to reflect. The 
 power he exercises over others is the more real, because he 
 does not seek to exercise it. He does not intrude on us ; 
 but we go to him. We speak of him little, but we involun- 
 tarily draw near to him ; we lean upon him ; we consult 
 him in silence ; we feel ourselves better for contemplating 
 and honoring him ; we seek his esteem, and become more 
 
152 SELF-EDtCATION. 
 
 estimable that we may obtain it. This dignity is the work 
 of him who is clothed with it, and belongs to him exclu- 
 sively. But we often seek to obtain the like advantages at 
 less expense ; we are eager to seize, in external circum- 
 stances, all that may bring us the means of an apparent 
 elevation. We find, however, in that natural and confused 
 instinct which leads us to exalt and aggrandize ourselves, 
 that there is no indication of that sacred vocation, which 
 calls us to perfection : splendor stands for dignity, extrava- 
 gance for power, a shadow or a reflection for reality. Per- 
 sonal interest, disguised in different ways, corrupts the 
 source of legitimate dignity. It attempts to invoke true 
 merit, but only for the purpose of placing merit in its train, 
 and of enjoying the homage which is its due. Thus arise 
 pride, vanity, and self-love, as so many different ways of 
 turning either the homage of other men, or our own appro- 
 bation, to the profit of personal interest. 
 
 Pride glories in what it possesses, and in every thing 
 which has the character of power. It cares little for the 
 moral character of this power, or the nature of its effects, 
 provided it be a force. It even dares to glory in Excel- 
 lence, but it is only as a serviceable influence ; for it is in 
 itself that it delights, and chooses to delight, exclusively. 
 It is calm and meditative, because it lives on, and is suffi- 
 cient for, its own contemplation. It is fearless and frank, 
 because it thinks itself supported upon true zeal and just 
 foundations; it has faith in itself, because it is imperious, 
 intolerant, and exclusive. It is nothing else than confident, 
 domineering personal feeling, satisfied with the conviction 
 it has of its own superiority. — Vanity, on the other hand, 
 seeks to find in the consideration of other men, what it does 
 not succeed in finding in itself; it wants attention, and 
 desires admiration, or rather it desires astonishment; for 
 it does not care that this admiration should be cherished by 
 esteem ; it is satisfied with having spectators, and with 
 captivating them. It is taken up with appearing, not with 
 
DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 
 
 153 
 
 being ; it even delights in singularity, for singularity aston- 
 ishes and makes a show ; it displays itself outwardly ; it 
 wishes to be seen ; it will even draw advantage from its 
 faults, errors, and excesses, if it can surround them with any 
 brilliancy ; it fears censure less than it fears to be forgotten. 
 By endeavouring to persuade others of its merits, it con- 
 cludes by persuading itself of them. Vanity is personal feel- 
 ing, seeking an external mirror, in which it may contemplate 
 its idol ; but with the hope of finding it of more vast dimen- 
 sions, and brilliant with more intense refulgence. 
 
 Self-love, (taking this term in the restricted sense which 
 we gave it some time since,) is more subtle, more delicate, 
 more refined in it purpose, more ingenious in its means, 
 and less ingenuous in its expressions and acknowledgments. 
 It is not satisfied with being seen, it wishes to be favorably 
 judged ; it aspires to success more than to renown ; it fears 
 disapprobation, but ridicule still more. It had rather please 
 than shine. It wishes for consideration, esteem, and even 
 good will. It even seeks its nourishment in the friendly 
 intercourse of friendship, and penetrates into the most 
 secret and intimate relations. It winds through and pene- 
 trates the soul, and even torments it in its relations with 
 itself; it reproaches it for imperfections, which ^re rather 
 limits of nature than real faults ; it is more afflicted by the 
 absence of qualities than of virtues ; it especially suffers for 
 the want of talent and skill. This is exacting, susceptible, 
 and restless personal feeling. 
 
 We see men who are full of pride, who seem exempt from 
 vanity : they have such a consciousness of what they are, 
 that they hardly care for the opinion we have of them ; and 
 they have so much disdain for other men, that this opinion 
 has little value in their eyes. We see some men free from 
 pride and vanity, and yet governed by self-love. Less rep- 
 rehensible than if they were proud and vain, they are, 
 however, more unfortunate. They are insensible to the 
 advantages of fortune and honors ; but they are affected by 
 
154 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 the least thing which touches upon their character in the 
 world's opinion. They are alarmed at every thing, and are 
 always ready to admit interpretations which are unfavorable 
 to themselves. They are in a continual state of observa- 
 tion and defence, rather than tormented by the desires of 
 conqnest. Self-love is like an insect, which may attach 
 itself to the most beautiful plants, and wither them. When 
 discontented with ourselves, it contributes to our discon- 
 tent much more than we suspect ; for self-love has a won- 
 derful art of being disguised in virtue. It might be said that 
 pride gives to itself a sort of dignity, that vanity borrows it, 
 and that self-love steals it ; but all three are wanting in true 
 dignity, because they seek it where it cannot be found. 
 
 There is grandeur, and an imposing grandeur, in the 
 numerous and public testimonies, which society renders to 
 merit, virtue, and talent. It is a noble thing to see homage 
 sincerely rendered to the excellent upon earth ; it honors 
 humanity, and improves it, in that it awakens in all hearts 
 the purest of sympathies, and through this sympathy gives 
 a new impulse to generous sentiments. Next to religious 
 solemnities, it is the most magnificent festival which can be, 
 celebrated upon the earth ; and most nations have assciated 
 the hon<*rs rendered to the memory of great men, with 
 religious solemnities. There is certainly elevation and 
 nobleness in the ambition which aspires to gain such lau- 
 jels, and we cannot disparage an order of motives, which 
 produces such great things. Who would wish to deprive 
 society of the illustrious, or to disenchant human nature 
 of the love of glory ? But this great testimony is only acquir- 
 ed by him who deserves it, and not by him upon whom 
 it may have fallen by chance or mistake : it is not the per- 
 son who is praised, but the attribute which he is supposed to 
 possess. It is only acquired by the man, who is inspir- 
 ed with worthy motives ; it is not the external action merely, 
 that is applauded, but its principle. The acclamation of 
 the crowd is but a vain noise and senseless tumult, if there 
 
DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 155 
 
 be not approbation in it, or if it be not just in itself. Let 
 us therefore clearly understand the pure love of glory, with 
 the conditions it supposes. It has a language which explains 
 and a sign which represents it. It is an authentic, solemn, 
 brilliant, and perpetual confirmation of internal approbation ; 
 such as might have been deserved, however, in silence. 
 Let us seek true celebrity by means of what is worthy of 
 being celebrated. Let us feel indifferent whether we receive 
 this tribute of praises. Perhaps then we shall strive for it 
 less ardently, and become still more worthy of it. Let the 
 love of glory, in the scale of moral progress, be the presen- 
 timent of a rank much superior to glory. Let it be a light 
 to reveal to us, and to make us esteem, what is worthy of 
 homage. Let it be a noble instinct, which may lead us to 
 seek especially the approbation of our own conscience. 
 
 There is a lawful sense of character, which consists in 
 making the character of man and the dignity of our nature 
 respected in ourselves : as members of society, it is more 
 than each one's right, it is a duty, not to suffer it to 
 be outraged in our persons. We perceive how much this 
 differs from arrogance ; for there is nothing personal in 
 it, nothing which centres upon the individual. There is 
 also a just loftiness of virtue, which resists injustice and 
 calumny, which rests upon the inward consciousness of 
 pure intentions, and feels its superiority over the power by 
 which it is oppressed ; which triumphs in the midst of trial, 
 and takes pleasure in its obscurity. This consists in being 
 able to come forth fearlessly and without disguise, and looks 
 disdainfully upon gross interest ; it is the companion of 
 truth and liberty, and procures the satisfaction of feeling 
 that we have been able to govern ourselves ; it is becoming 
 and necessary to virtue, in the presence of the vain pomps 
 which follow in the train of arrogance and frivolity ; but 
 it is a modest, serene, indulgent, and gentle sentiment. 
 
 Modesty adorns virtue, as bashfulness ornaments beauty ; 
 it harmonizes with a just sense of character, as moderation 
 
156 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 harmonizes with justice. It heightens dignity of character, 
 as simplicity enhances greatness. It adds to merit the same 
 charms which candor adds to goodness of heart. What is 
 modesty ? Is it not a sense of excellence so deep and true, 
 that the observance of duty appears a natural thing ? Is it 
 not so sincere a desire for what is excellent, that what is 
 wanting is much more perceptible, than what is already 
 obtained ? Is it not so pure a love for what is good, that 
 it even forgets the reward reserved for merit in the appro- 
 bation of others ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 INWARD PEACE. 
 
 '* Nature," says the disciple of Aristotle, '^abhors a 
 vacuum." We may well say so of the human heart. Most 
 men, in a blind desire of agitation, form only a negative 
 idea of the peace of the heart. They fear it as a state of 
 privation, and, under pretext of avoiding ennui, seek 
 trouble. Would they but once try to experience peace, how 
 much more just would be the idea conceived of it. They 
 would perceive that it is not silence, but harmony ; not 
 inaction, but equilibrium ; not sleep, but serenity ; not 
 annihilation, but health of soul. It is a calmness full of 
 life, tempering all suffering, redoubling the value of all 
 enjoyments, and reanimating all our strength. 
 
 The tranquillity of soul of the sages of antiquity, answers 
 but imperfectly to what we intend by inward peace. Tran- 
 quillity of soul consists essentially in the absence of disquiet 
 and trouble. Inward peace supposes something more ; it 
 supposes the presence of a restoring principle. Inward 
 peace is a harmony of the two great moral powers; tran- 
 
INWARD PEACE. 157 
 
 quillity of soul is the fruit of Self-government alone. The 
 latter, therefore, fulfilling one of the conditions, which are 
 united in inward peace, prepares for its commencement, 
 being a state of security ; but inward peace is a state of 
 satisfaction. The Love of Excellence diffuses into it all 
 its sweetness. The tranquil soul is a vase, that is destined 
 to contain perfumes ; but it is little to possess the vase, if it 
 is empty. The heart where inward peace reigns is filled 
 with the Love of Excellence, and the more full it is, the 
 more profound is the peace enjoyed. 
 
 Is there not something dry and unfruitful in the tranquil- 
 lity of soul of the ancient philosophers? It seems to have 
 rested on a fiction, contradicted by observation and experi- 
 ence, and which the moral nature itself rejects. Seneca 
 and Epictetus sometimes sadden, and even terrify us, by the 
 images they give us of this false repose, and sometimes they 
 make us revolt from it, by demanding of us the sacrifice of 
 the sweetest and most sacred aflfections. But inward peace 
 takes love into its bosom, and becomes a sanctuary for it : 
 it therefore admits all just and honorable feelings. Inward 
 peace results from the faithful accomplishment of the voca- 
 tion, which has been traced out for us by nature ; it cannot, 
 therefore, require us to contradict the purposes of nature. 
 This peace is not a total exemption from suffering, for 
 there are many legitimate sufierings and solicitudes of 
 the heart ; it harmonizes with suffering and solicitude ; 
 for nothing, which is lawful and true, takes away from the 
 state of the soul, which is itself a sort of concert formed by 
 justice and truth. There is suffering therefore, but it is 
 borne with firmness, and accepted with resignation. Some- 
 times indeed the peace becomes more exquisite ; for suffer- 
 ing has secret but real relations with the accomplishment of 
 our destiny. Nothing, which belongs to the genuine order 
 of Providence, can disagree with internal order; tears may 
 flow, but they are not weakness ; they are a tribute to na- 
 ture, and they solace us, because they are so. There is in 
 14 
 
158 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 this peace something healing, which secretly and insensibly 
 soothes the wounds of the soul and even the sufferings of the 
 body. The wise man, in this happy state of mind, is moved 
 without agitation, and rests without ennui. He enjoys what 
 falls to his lot, and supports the privations imposed upon him. 
 His sight is obscured by no cloud, he is fatigued by no 
 murmuring, alarmed by no phantoms ; nothing agitates the 
 depths of his heart. He does easily what is prescribed to 
 him ; nothing surprises him, or finds him off his guard, for 
 he walks in the way traced out for him by nature. He 
 enjoys fully the favor of the Creator, recognising a blessing 
 in the trials which are laid upon him, and finding in all 
 things sources of satisfaction, as far as they are necessary 
 to his condition, because he sees himself in the place which 
 was assigned him in the designs of the Supreme Disposer. 
 
 In such a state of mind, all the faculties have a free and 
 more vigorous spring. Inward peace is, to the faculties of 
 man, like the dewy morning to the plants of the earth. 
 Light is diffused in the intellect, ideas are distinguished 
 from each other, and are easily classed. We interrogate 
 and answer ourselves without constraint; we penetrate 
 easily into the depths of the soul ; v/e render an account of 
 what we think and feel ; we know better what we wish ; 
 our will is more decided and frank. How easy then does 
 virtue appear to us ! how delightful its contemplations • 
 what recompense is anticipated in its practice ; how pleased 
 we feel with ourselves and others ! Our intercourse with 
 others partakes of the serenity which reigns within ; good 
 will becomes natural ; we claim less, we forgive more ; for 
 we have less need of others, and are less vulnerable. Be- 
 sides, the calmness within ourselves is spread over those 
 around us, as it were, unconsciously. The peaceful man 
 interposes, as a sort of mediator, in the midst of hatred and 
 animosities. If, as a beneficent messenger, he appears 
 in the midst of a discontented, disquieted, agitated crowd, 
 even his presence brings confidence and hope, producing 
 
INWARD PEACE. 159 
 
 effects similar to the chords of the melodies which soothe 
 the storms of passion. So, after the tempest, the mysterious 
 bow appears, which is drawn upon the heavens, but rests 
 upon the earth. Inward peace is the expression of moral 
 order ; as beauty in an edifice proves the regularity of its 
 proportions. It is the emanation of virtue itself, and there- 
 fore, when beaming on the brow of the good, it becomes a 
 sort of eloquent language, which penetrates to the depths of 
 the heart. Do we not owe to it, in an especial manner, the 
 pleasure we take in the contemplation of nature ; and, on 
 the other hand, is it not because the contemplation of nature 
 disposes us to recover inward peace, that it does us so much 
 good ? The image of peace, constantly reproduced in those 
 varied scenes, those graceful pictures, becomes living and 
 sensible; answering to us, and applauding us, if we are in 
 harmony with ourselves, or bringing us back to this harmony 
 if we have been unfaithful to it. As nature only smiles upon 
 the good, or those who are sincere in their return to excel- 
 lence, she only receives innocence or repentance. The 
 beauties of nature are the mirror of a virtuous soul. 
 
 Inward peace is a pledge of the constancy and persever- 
 ance of resolutions and sentiments ; it is a conservative and 
 tutelary principle. It is only when we are in agitation that 
 we are changeable. The more we taste this peace, the 
 more we are attached to it. Unlike the pleasures of sense 
 and selfishness, it grows by enjoyment. It is an animated, 
 living pleasure, which, far from throwing us into stupor, 
 awakens all the moral energies within us. Under its influ- 
 ence, the soul, feeling itself unshackled, raises itself from 
 the miseries which weigh it down, free, confident, and dig- 
 nified ; gazing with joy upon the prospect of great things, 
 and aspiring to undertake them. 
 
 If we ask men, whose examples excite our most just 
 admiration, they will tell us, that it was in moments of 
 peaceful self-collectedness, that they conceived those vast 
 designs and generous resolutions, by which they have done 
 honor to the human race. 
 
160 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Peace of soul beams ingenuously from the brow of those 
 favorites of virtue, who, entirely faithful to the law of excel- 
 lence, have preserved untouched the deposit of moral virgin- 
 ity. It rests, majestically serene, upon the brow of old age, 
 when it is crowned by the remembrance of the good actions 
 which have filled up the course of a long life. In the former 
 it is a calmness, which includes a fruitful activity ; in the 
 latter it is a merited repose, but a repose full of vigor. It 
 confers upon the first a sweet, pure dignity ; it restores to 
 the second a new youth. Perfect peace is one of the attri- 
 butes with which we love to clothe those superior intelli- 
 gences, those angelic natures, which seem to us to form an 
 intermediate link between the Divinity and man, and which 
 occupy the highest summits of moral nature. 
 
 Whatever shocks our sight in external nature, whatever 
 carries disorder into sensible phenomena, whatever disturbs 
 the state of living, organized beings, always arises from 
 some element being displaced, or from some irregular 
 movement. It is the same in all internal agitation ; there is 
 some want of regularity, some secret contradiction between 
 our conduct and the tendency marked out for us. If,, 
 therefore, we remark, that all the obstacles which prevent 
 inward peace, arise, in some way or other, from some 
 requisition of selfishness, we shall recognise that selfishness. 
 is a real and fundamental irregularity in human nature. 
 Under its three principal and most decided forms, avarice,, 
 ambition, and vanity, it becomes the focus of various solici- 
 tudes, all irreconcilable with repose of heart. How remark- 
 able ! we are never less at ease with ourselves, than when 
 we are exclusively self-seekers. It is placing ourselves in 
 the service of a master the most severe, and the most diffi-- 
 cult to satisfy. 
 
 There is a melancholy, which may ally itself with peace 
 of soul. It is that which is almost inevitably connected 
 with sensibility, and like sensibility it is placed as the safe- 
 guard of virtue. It is approved by virtue, aijd consented to 
 
INWARD PEACE. 161 
 
 by reason ; and it is a melancholy not unnatural to those 
 who see human life in a true light. How can they turn 
 away their eyes from so many miseries which afflict human- 
 ity; from so many errors, from so many crimes? How can 
 they but groan for the evils, which weigh upon those they 
 love ? How can they shut out the never-ceasing groan of 
 suffering humanity 1 Must they not every day also deplore 
 their own weakness ? Even the zeal which inflames them 
 for the holy cause of virtue is frequently and painfully mis- 
 taken. This melancholy, however, has some charms ; it is 
 not a principle of agitation ; it has nothing gloomy in it ; 
 it does not dry up the soul ; on the contrary, it has a soften- 
 ing effect. As it is a reasonable sadness, it produces no 
 disorder ; and by it we even become better. 
 
 There is a melancholy, which essentially influences our 
 imaginations. It is a disposition, which results from tem- 
 perament, from the state of health, from the dispositions of 
 the organs, and from the reactions of these entirely external 
 circumstances upon the ordinary impressions which we 
 receive from objects. This kind of melancholy, which has 
 its momentary and transient crises, may menace peace of 
 heart, unless the reason knows how to defend itself from its 
 attacks ; but it is only a trial of patience. As soon as we 
 know its origin and nature, we support it, as we support a 
 purely physical evil. 
 
 There are, however, three more serious kinds of melan- 
 choly, which attack inward peace in its essential principle. 
 We may refer to these three dispositions almost all the 
 causes which poison human life. They all spring from 
 ardent desires disappointed in their attempts : from the 
 desire of loving, the desire of acting, or the desire of appear- 
 ing. 
 
 The melancholy, which arises from the desire of loving, 
 torments the sensitive and timid, and has the most expan- 
 sive and tender character. It is perhaps that which is 
 most profoundly painful of all. But fortunately, it is that, 
 14* 
 
162 SELF-EtJUCATIOx^. 
 
 which is most easily remedied. If, wandering in the world, 
 unknown, despised, and solitary, we cannot obtain a return 
 of those affections, which aspire to expand themselves ; if 
 every thing remains deaf to our voice, still this thirst for 
 love, which we feel within us, can yet, by purifying itself 
 more, find a solace. It can turn every thing wholly to the 
 profit of virtue, by receiving its aid ; for virtue will teach 
 us how to love without recompense and with entire generos- 
 ity ; how to fix love upon high objects, that will console us 
 for not being able to meet what we seek upon earth. Wis- 
 dom will also guard us from the aberrations of a blind and 
 irregular sensibility. 
 
 The melancholy, which arises from desire of acting, tor- 
 ments those ardent souls, which have a consciousness of 
 their strength ; it has something impatient, indefinite, and 
 convulsive, in its approach. It is often ignorant of itself. 
 It struggles against obstacles, but it easily misunderstands 
 the means of triumph. It renders the situation in which 
 a man is placed insupportable to him, and urges him to 
 change it. If it can find the issue which it seeks, it can do 
 great things ; but it may consume the faculties in their 
 principle, if it is condemned to turn upon itself. This 
 melancholy has also its remedies. It finds them in favora- 
 ble circumstances ; in a surer resource ; in the counsel 
 which wisdom gives, to bend to circumstances and reap 
 advantage from them, however unfavorable they may be. It 
 especially finds a remedy in the virtue which sets free from 
 vain ambition, and which always offers useful careers to 
 human activity. 
 
 The melancholy, which springs from the desire of appear- 
 ing, is of all others the most dry, sterile, gloomy, and unqui- 
 et. It is mere slavery to opinion. The seat of this melan- 
 choly is rather in self-love than in the heart ; but it spreads 
 over every thing within us. Wounded self-love seeks to 
 interest the heart in its cause. This kind of melancholy 
 leads to nothing useful. It only needs some remedy that 
 
INWARD PEACE. 163 
 
 may cure it. We must attack it in its principle, in order to 
 be freed from the yoke under which this desire has placed 
 us. As far as it governs, it pursues and disquiets its victim ; 
 but opinion upbraids him, even for the efforts he makes to 
 satisfy its claims. There is no peace for those, who are 
 dependent upon it; for there is no security for them. They 
 desire to be seen, and fear to be judged ; they thirst for 
 praise, and run the risk of blame ; they belie themselves to 
 obtain the suffrage of others : there is no asylum for them. 
 They condemn themselves to remain on the stage, and to 
 await the uncertain decrees of the spectators. And, when 
 they obtain this much desired approbation, of what value is 
 it ? What satisfaction do they gain from it, unless it has 
 the sanction of conscience ? 
 
 The ardent desire of success, also, that passion which 
 intercourse with the world creates and developes, is one of 
 the poisons, whose action is most fatal to the heart of man. 
 Those are especially in danger of it, whose condition 
 places them particularly in relation with the public. Impa- 
 tient to succeed, alarmed at the least sign of disfavor, he 
 whom the desire of success torments, takes umbrage at every 
 thing, and especially seeks outward supports. His eye 
 wanders constantly around him, scrutinizes, interrogates 
 the judgment of each one, solicits applause, betrays secret 
 solicitude ; but whatever efforts he makes, he never makes 
 his end certain, but leaves it to be determined by chance 
 and fortune. May the young man, when entering life, 
 defend himself from this passion, rather let us say, this 
 mania, that the contagion of example, and received ideas, 
 render so overpowering. May he escape the servitude pre- 
 pared for him. Let him resist, with noble firmness, the 
 allurement of success ; let him live to he, not to appear. 
 This is the condition of his preserving his character and 
 real energy ; he must preserve to his talents that character 
 of independence and originality, without which there is no 
 permanent success. 
 
164 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Each of these different kinds of melancholy may yet have 
 either of two directions, according as it inclines to the past 
 or the fature ; and this direction still farther modifies their 
 character. The melancholy, which is nourished by regret 
 for the past, is accompanied with discouragement ; its sad- 
 ness is gloomy ; it is exhausted in vain sufferings ; its cure 
 is the most diihcult. The melancholy which wearies the 
 future, by desires impossible to be satisfied, is something 
 agitating, impetuous, indefinite ; it produces trouble with- 
 out, as well as within ; it is inexperienced, consequently rash 
 and dangerous. It is necessary, by a sort of exchange, to 
 present the future to one kind of melancholy, and to give 
 experience of the past to the other. The first demands 
 consolation, the second demands a guide. 
 
 We also see men, who have exhausted the cup of pleas- 
 ure, and who are satiated with life, complain of a kind of 
 melancholy ; but their sadness is only the nausea of lassitude 
 and disgust ; it has no more of melancholy, than lethargy 
 has of peace. There is always something in melancholy, 
 which announces that the powers have deviated from their 
 course, or have wandered, or, perhaps, that they are super- 
 abundant, and out of proportion with the situation of the 
 individual ; but that, if brought back to their true tendency, 
 and proper career, they might become fruitful. It denotes 
 that there is a sap, which hardly circulates, and which even 
 flows back, because it finds some part of the channel ob- 
 structed, where it ought to flow. This is why melancholy 
 is interesting and touching. Virtue feels for it a sort of 
 attraction; it is pleased to approach it; it comprehends 
 that it can aid this malady of the soul, and that, in restoring 
 it to health, it will perhaps draw from it a principle of new- 
 vigor. 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS. 169 
 
 of Others, but it does not deliver us from those which spring 
 out of personal feeling, and which are more active and 
 indefatigable. Vacancy of heart is a source of agitation, 
 while gentle affections and generous sentiments refresh, 
 compose, and strengthen the understanding ; giving birth to 
 the serene thoughts that are the emanation of purity. The 
 labor of reflection is also facilitated by internal order, as 
 symmetry favors our observation of visible objects. Virtue 
 fears no investigation. It has no motives but what it may 
 confess and love to render an account of And we would 
 ask, in passing, whether our want of internal order has not 
 injured the progress of the philosophical sciences, and occa- 
 sioned false directions of these sciences in countries and 
 ages, where habits have been tainted by a general corrup- 
 tion. It has not been observed with sufficient attention, that 
 absolute knowledge, (as we must call it by way of distinc- 
 tion,) requires a peculiar instrument, the thorough study of 
 our nature, and that this study is, in its turn, intimately 
 connected with the practice of the highest virtues. Per- 
 haps there have been so few great philosophers, because 
 'here have been very few eminently virtuous men among 
 
 hose who have cultivated philosophy. Socrates is acknowl- 
 3dged as the restorer of philosophy in ancient times. And 
 ,vhy ? He taught scarcely any thing, except that a knowl- 
 
 dge of ourselves is the common and sole source of science 
 ind morality. But in this single principle he comprised all 
 
 he principles of discovery, which were to guide his disci- 
 ples into the regions of wisdom. The excellent alone can 
 penetrate the meaning of the celebrated oracle of Delphi. 
 
 2. Vanity may have its motives for depreciating in the 
 world the merit which belongs to rectitude of judgment : 
 nothing is easier than to be distinguished by renouncing it. 
 There are a thousand ways open, by the side of the only 
 oath which leads to truth ; and we may appear original in 
 
 ach of these ways, by merely being unfaithful to right 
 
 ?ason. To produce an effect, it is enough to unite two 
 15 
 
170 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 ideas which are astonished at being together ; the paradox 
 will owe its success to its novelty and boldness. Just minds 
 seem colorless ; and simple reason monotonous. Good 
 sense is so vulgar a thing, that we see whole sects of phi- 
 losophers profess to disdain it. Yet what is philosophy, if 
 it be not a grand commentary upon the lessons of good 
 sense ? Is it not good sense, which, by spreading from con- 
 sequences to consequences, and strengthening these con- 
 nexions, regulates the understanding securely, in the lofti- 
 est speculations ? Good sense is in judgment what natural- 
 ness is in style. But what is the best guardian of good 
 sense, if it be not virtue ? What is the best security of 
 mental rectitude, if not uprightness of heart ? 
 
 Since Aristotle, there have been thousands of treatises on. 
 logic, wanting in nothing which concerns the decomposi- 
 tion of argument ; every case is foreseen, every rule is writ- 
 ten, and the operations of the mind are converted into 
 infallible formulas; in these treatises, the art of logic has 
 become what arithmetical operations are in Pascal's ma- 
 chine ; it seems as if nothing were required but to put the 
 instrument in play. But is truth indebted to these for any 
 real progress 1 In speculative science their aid has not 
 been very effectual ; the most useful directions, those which 
 include the management of the mind, have been most ne- 
 glected. In moral science, and in practical application, the 
 aid has been still less efficacious ; for though we know how 
 to prove a proposition in forms, and even to demonstrate a 
 paradox, if we have not learned to love truth, an essential 
 instrument is wanting to its attainment. 
 
 There is another logic, which is less known, more neces- 
 sary, and which we could use more easily than we do that 
 of the schools : this teaches us to think correctly by teach- 
 ing us to govern ourselves well. The art of directing the 
 operations of our mind, is only an exertion of self-control ; 
 and to preserve this control over our understanding, we 
 must obtain it over the soul itself, which is the focus of all 
 the human faculties. 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS. 171 
 
 There are innocent errors doubtless, but the world is not 
 most indulgent to the errors which are most innocent. And 
 often when we declare ourselves in error, we do it in order 
 to justify a fault which we have committed. Ignorance 
 also, which we so often take for an excuse, is, on the con- 
 trary, the very chief and most serious of our faults, when, 
 as is so often the case, we have had the means of instructing 
 ourselves, and have neglected to use them. Thus does it 
 happen, then, that intolerance is united with prejudice 
 against knowledge. Truly enlightened men are the more 
 indulgent : they know all that it costs to acquire truth, and 
 how easy it is to stray from it, even when honestly seeking 
 it. 
 
 Nothing is more delicate than the relations which exist 
 between the judgment and will; they often escape our 
 watchfulness, and baffle our honest intentions; we think 
 we follow our judgment, when we yield to the guidance of 
 our will. The office of guide belongs, it is true, to the 
 judgment ; yet the operations of the mind being actions, and 
 every action having its motives, it happens, that the nature 
 of the motives decides upon the course which the under- 
 standing may take, and that we often believe at last what 
 we wish to believe. 
 
 Among the causes of our errors, there are two in particu- 
 lar, which are peculiarly influenced by this partiality of the 
 judge : they are those which arise from imperfect views, 
 and those which the illusions of the imagination produce : 
 complex truths, which generally constitute the object of our 
 studies, require to be comprehended in their wholeness ; 
 but a mind, prejudiced by passion, considers objects only 
 in the light in which this passion places them ; and the 
 prevailing passion, giving new vividness to the deceitful 
 images which borrow the appearance of realities, and de- 
 lighting in seeing proportions exaggerated and the distance 
 of objects diminished, tinges them with the hues which 
 either its fears or its desires may suggest. Moreover, the 
 
172 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 more nearly certain opinions affect our interests, the surer 
 they are to tally with these interests : there is nothing in 
 the world less certain than what is suited to affect us most : 
 there is nothing upon which we are less agreed, than what 
 is connected with individual affections. Men only meet 
 upon the ground of axioms indifferent in themselves ; and 
 although mathematical truths owe their certainty to the 
 evidence of their principles and deductions, they also owe 
 not a little to their not being the subject of passion. Men 
 have, it is true, been divided even respecting mathematical 
 truths, when any passions have been deeply engaged in 
 their cause. We see multitudes obstinately resolved to 
 expect results in the relative chances of lottery and play, 
 which most exact calculations prove to be impossible. And 
 in other sciences, do we not see the most abstract theorems 
 sometimes become the sport and instruments of the pas- 
 sions, while facts themselves are misconstrued, as soon as 
 there is a motive for bespeaking falsehood? The advan- 
 tage, which geometry owes to its peculiar nature, virtue 
 would communicate to all other branches of knowledge ; and, 
 after we had become impartial, we should find it would be 
 no longer necessary, that propositions should be indifferent 
 in themselves. What is better adapted to enlarge the per- 
 ceptions than generous affections? What means are more 
 efficacious to prevent the wanderings of the imagination, 
 than the habit of restraining ourselves ? And since virtue 
 consists in general views, and is guided by the light of 
 justice, and keeps strict watch over our inward being, by 
 the repression of every disorderly movement of our faculties, 
 what can so effectually prevent fantastic delusion ? 
 
 There are certain passions which belong more particu- 
 larly to the mind, and often exert the most perceptible influ- 
 ence over its operations. Penetrating into certain studies, 
 in which any power less subtle could not find support, they 
 succeed in seducing human reason. But the heart, although 
 secretly, is always the accomplice of these intellectual 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS. 177 
 
 only admit facts, or calculations, and only need the most 
 rigorous processes, the habits of order formed in the prac- 
 tice of virtue, favor the spirit of method ; the spirit of inven- 
 tion is seconded by taste for serious meditations ; persever- 
 ance in labor is kept up by patience, and by the impulse of 
 a disinterested zeal for what is of general utility. The art 
 of conceiving great plans finds support in those useful exer- 
 cises which direct our thoughts to the vast relations of moral 
 ideas, rendering them familiar to us, and teaching us to see, 
 in universal maxims, individual and close applications. 
 The relations of general to particular views, of theories to 
 facts, and rules to practice, is no where better shown than 
 in morality. AH the creations of the mind are but combi- 
 nations. Now selfishness, of all dissolvents, is the most 
 active ; and love is the most powerful of all principles of 
 union and amalgamation. A vigorous thought is the union 
 of ideas which were extremely remote from one another in 
 the order of acquisition, but which are united by analogy. 
 Now in the ideas which concern human affairs, love and 
 virtue have a magic power in revealing secret affinities, 
 since they are full of an attracting force and an exquisite 
 sense of the fitness of things. 
 
 There is at least one superiority which selfishness claims 
 with assurance, and which the opinion of the world hardly 
 refuses it : it is skill in what is called business. It would 
 not be astonishing if selfishness were the best inspiration of 
 the calculations which have respect to personal interest, 
 because in the pursuit of this interest it has most persever- 
 ance, and because the choice of means being a matter of 
 indifference to it, it can pursue short paths which a delicate 
 morality forbids. Virtue in these respects confesses the 
 disadvantages of its condition, accepts, and is honored by 
 them ; but it possesses compensations which belong to it 
 exclusively. 
 
 Wise views and honorable sentiments are likewise guides 
 for conduct ; the esteem of others, and the consciousness 
 
178 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 of our own esteem, give to us firmness and assurance in 
 those affairs which suppose intercourse with other men. 
 We exert over other men a truer and more lasting, although 
 perhaps a slower influence, by the confidence we inspire in 
 them, than by all the combinations of art. " Honest hearts," 
 we say, ''are often deceived; they know little of men and 
 of the world ; they hope too easily, and judge too favora- 
 bly ! " But are not insensible and selfish hearts also de- 
 ceived, in their way, in their judgments ? Their errors are 
 only on the other side : they are errors of injustice. Every 
 opinion which we seek to form of other men can only be a 
 presumption, or probability : therefore the most prudent and 
 best intended opinion will necessarily prove false sometimes, 
 by the natural play of circumstances in probable things; 
 whence it follows, that in order to be equitable in the judg- 
 ments we form on this subject, we must expose ourselves to 
 be deceived sometimes, and to find our judgments faulty ; 
 whence it also follows, that he who never thought too favor- 
 ably of his fellow-creatures, has probably judged them habit- 
 ually with too much severity ; he who was never deceived 
 in absolving other men, has frequently been so in condemn- 
 ing them wrongfully. This advantage is worthy of selfish- 
 ness, and let it enjoy and triumph in it ! As for us, we 
 consent to bear the blame of sometimes thinking our breth- 
 ren better than they are, rather than that of judging them 
 habitually worse than they are. 
 
 Where are the elements of that great and difficult art of 
 knowing the human heart ! Have we any instrument what- 
 ever which penetrates directly into the secret of the springs 
 by which others are moved ? Whence do we draw the 
 inductions which reveal to us an order of phenomena which 
 cannot be directly perceived ? The spirit of observation 
 must here be seconded by inward reflection : it is in our- 
 selves that we should study others, because it is in ourselves 
 that we find the solution of problems which the experience 
 of life and the world presents ; and this is why we commonly 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 179 
 
 judge other men like ourselves. To have mingled with the 
 world, to have noticed it in every direction, is not to have 
 really known it and judged it, if we have not first learned ta 
 judge ourselves. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW MAN IS LEAD TO RELIGION BY THE DEVELOPEMENT OP THE? 
 MORAL POWERS. 
 
 As religious sentiments lead to virtue, so virtue leads 
 back to religion ; and this less familiar consideration is 
 advantageous to the cause of religion. It is doubtless a 
 lawful triumph for religion, to see how much man improves 
 under its influence ; but it is also a noble testimony in its 
 favor that pure and honest hearts naturally tend towards it. 
 
 In sound logic, moral truths are very necessary premises 
 of religious truths ; while, on the other hand, moral senti- 
 ments, call upon religious sentiments to purify and bring 
 them to perfection. Under this double relation, morality 
 then is a true religious initiation. As civilization bears 
 witness to the existence of a political, so morality proves 
 that of a Divine legislator. What the former certifies 
 in society, the latter attests in the sanctuary of nature. 
 The political legislator has not created public and private 
 morality; he has found it preexisting; he rests upon it, 
 and it serves him as an instrument. But who inspired, 
 whence came this genius of morality? Who traced that 
 primitive code which has served as an archetype and pat- 
 tern for the particular codes of every nation? If the order 
 which is manifested in the outward universe, shows plainly 
 to all men the agency of Supreme Providence, does not the 
 order of the phenomena of moral nature indicate an author? 
 
180 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Moral order, considered as the universal legislation of man- 
 kind, gives beauty to the general system of the universe, 
 completes its harmony^ and quickens it with a new and sub- 
 lime life. 
 
 Is it not a circumstance worthy of attention, that so many 
 imperious inclinations have been placed in the heart of man, 
 and so many circumstances around him, to conduct him to 
 that state of society, in which alone his faculties can be 
 fully developed ? Plants obtain air, light, and soil, necessa- 
 ry for their growth : the animal who must seek his nourish- 
 ment, receives the instinct necessary to find it, and organs 
 suitable to obtain and secure it. Man, who depends for 
 every thing on uniting with his fellow-beings, and on the 
 combination of forces, receives affections, thought, and lan- 
 guage, — that is, means of communication with his fellow- 
 beings : besides, he is born more weak and dependent than 
 other animals, while at the same time he alone is born capa- 
 ble of progress. The social principle explains this apparent 
 contradiction, which disappears in society. Now society, 
 in its turn, calls upon and requires morality, as a condition 
 essential to its existence, and as the chief means of its pro- 
 gress. In the relation of all these things to each other, we 
 see, then, a plan and design, of which human nature is the 
 theatre, the Supreme Legislator the architect, and virtue 
 the fundamental condition. In this plan, the same wisdom 
 which called man to the social state for the education of his 
 faculties, instituted the code of moral duties to serve as a 
 bond to the social state ; and this great thought has presid- 
 ed in all ages over the destinies of the human race. 
 
 Is there any thing better adapted to show divine wisdom 
 and goodness, than this harmony between what is moral 
 and what is really useful, useful to all, and to each ; - — than 
 this dispensation, by virtue of which the sacrifice required 
 of the individual, is found to be for the general interest, — 
 and that other dispensation, which makes the individual 
 find, in another and better form, what duty leads him to 
 sacrifice for the advantage of others ? 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 181 
 
 Thus, the moral code is a vast and beneficent foresight 
 extending over mankind ; it is a tutelary protection institut- 
 ed for our weakness ; it resembles the recommendations of 
 paternal tenderness. Does it not then reveal the solicitude 
 of an invisible and Supreme Father ? Providence does not 
 rely upon our prudence alone, to provide for our happi- 
 ness ; and, just as it has given instinct to the animal, from 
 interest for his preservation, it has given to man the sublime 
 instinct of virtue, from interest for his felicity. In bestow- 
 ing free will and intellect upon his creature, the Creator has 
 given him a guide in the form of duty. 
 
 Thus morality is an eloquent witness of the divine nature, 
 and the more deeply virtue is felt, the better Providence is 
 understood. Moreover, if moral truths were not indisputa- 
 bly acknowledged as self-evident, it would become impossible 
 for reason to demonstrate the attributes of God. No dem- 
 onstration of this kind has ever been attempted, except by 
 setting out from principles of natural morality, as from so 
 many indisputable axioms. If there were not an essential 
 difference between good and evil, how could reason form 
 any idea whatever of a being of sovereign goodness ? By 
 what right should we attach notions of justice, truth, wis- 
 dom, and excellence, to the divine essence, if these attri- 
 butes were not already acknowledged as real perfections, and 
 if there were not consequently a principle within us deter- 
 mining their moral character ? No revelation could make 
 up for this ; for the certainty of all revelation depends, be- 
 forehand, upon the supposition that the Infinite Being can- 
 not deceive ; consequently, upon the moral principle, that 
 falsehood is an imperfection and a stain. 
 
 The belief in a future beyond the tomb, is doubtless 
 founded upon powerful inferences drawn from the ordinary 
 course of nature ; for nothing perishes in the elements which 
 compose nature : they only change their form, by passing 
 into various combinations. Now reason and analogy 
 equally show that the principle of individuality, in an intel- 
 16 
 
182 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 ligent and sensible being, is necessarily one, and cannot 
 suffer dissolution, since it is elementary. But these infer- 
 ences would still leave a thick veil over the destinies which 
 compose the important futurity. It is reserved for moral 
 truths to raise this veil, by showing us, on the one hand, an 
 equitable judge in the Supreme Dispenser ; and, on the 
 other, merit and demerit in human actions. Excellence is 
 not excellence because it is rewarded, and evil evil because 
 it is punished. It is just the contrary ; as the terms of re- 
 ward and punishment declare. Virtue then is something 
 real, and worthy of great price, or we could not apply to it 
 the consequences deduced from the notion of an infinite 
 justice and of a supreme judge, associated with that of a 
 sovereign remunerator. 
 
 Thus virtue bears witness to immortality. And the more 
 deeply virtue is felt, the better the hopes of the great future 
 are understood. We find in these hopes our proper destiny, 
 explaining our earthly condition. A spectator, placed at 
 the foot of a vast and regular edifice, cannot embrace all 
 the parts in one glance ; but those which are presented to 
 his eye, give him a conception of the design of the archi- 
 tect ; he completes in his mind what he has not yet been 
 able to perceive ; he prolongs the lines, and sees the point 
 where they must unite ; he penetrates beforehand into the 
 secret depths. Such is the inference which morality au- 
 thorizes us to form, about the as yet invisible portion of our 
 destiny. Thus virtue upon earth is the peristyle of a great 
 future. It is so 'regularly, so harmoniously, and so wisely 
 concerted, that it makes us foresee exactly how its plan is 
 accomplished and consummated. The whole moral nature 
 is a grand prelude, a magnificent promise. It is a relation 
 whose first terms only we hold. It is a triangle whose base 
 we occupy, and the summit of which is as yet veiled in a 
 cloud. This new progression, of which the present and 
 terrestrial man occupies the first steps, seems to be exhibit- 
 ed, already, as an image or sketch, on the bosom of human 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 183 
 
 nature, by means of the scale of moral superiorities. So 
 far as the good man is superior to the wicked, so far he feels 
 that there is something much superior to himself. This 
 presentiment of a better world, increases with the degree of 
 his progress. Who has not, in certain moments of his life, 
 obtained a foreknowledge of it ? Why then should we 
 always cast our eyes downward, and never raise them 
 towards the summits which tower above our weak nature 1 
 I have seen a family assembled in a domestic oratory ; the 
 mother offering to God those to whom she gave existence ; 
 the father blessing his children ; youthful hearts rendering 
 thanks to the Heavenly Parent, whose tutelary providence 
 they well understood, accustomed as they were to meet it in 
 the interpreters it has chosen here below. O how beautiful 
 is the religion, which can heighten the loveliness of a family 
 picture ! I have seen an indiscriminate multitude united in a 
 temple ; every soul was concentrated, every mind mingled 
 in the same thought ; all hearts were blended in song. The 
 poor man, by the side of the rich, without being jealous, had 
 forgotten his miseries ; the rich man had learned his own 
 indigence ; brotherly love, which seems to banish all social 
 distinctions in the world, awoke free and pure : all had 
 obtained intelligence of their destiny ; all prepared for it, 
 rejoicing together; all advanced with an equal step. How 
 human nature is ennobled, when in this attitude ! how many 
 dark mysteries are cleared away ! how much discord is 
 hushed ! The whole earth seems to pride itself in the dig- 
 nity which the most noble of mortal creatures has just ac- 
 quired : the whole system of the universe is explained. 
 
 Of all the kinds of worship, that which has obtained the 
 most general and lasting success among mankind, and the 
 only one which has owed its success entirely to free and 
 individual conviction, and which has triumphed by the mere 
 force of this conviction, over all the resistance of prejudice 
 and force, is that which has the rare privilege of fully satis- 
 fying the wishes and wants of morality. It is through this 
 
184 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 character, which so eminently distinguishes it, that its first 
 defenders made their most eloquent vindications ; they well 
 knew that by calling virtue as a witness, she would not de- 
 ceive their expectations. Its first conquests, also, were 
 either among good and simple men who had resisted the 
 corruption of the age, or among the sages who had deeply 
 meditated upon the eternal laws of morality, &uch as Justin, 
 Theophilus, Athenagoras, and Clement of Alexandria. 
 What a magnificent homage rendered to Christianity, that 
 it has been able to cause desertion from the school of 
 Plato ! * 
 
 In the general system of beings, every thing proceeds in a 
 continued gradation, as every thing tends to extreme simplic- 
 ity, whatever may be the wonderful complication of means. 
 It is an immense pyramid, the regularity of which we discov- 
 er more clearly, the more minutely we examine the details. 
 At the lowest degree of the scale lie inanimate and unor- 
 ganized substances : organization is successively produced 
 and manifested, which soon receives the breath of life, feel- 
 ing being at first but a sensation, and action but simple 
 mobility. With morality and intelligence commences a new 
 world, which crowns the preceding. This is the atmosphere 
 into which man enters, but it only commences with him. 
 Would the scale be suddenly interrupted? Would the 
 progression stop at the very point where our view grows 
 faint 1 Would all that is preeminent in the whole of the 
 system be excluded from the common law 1 Would the 
 plan remain incomplete, where it became most important? 
 Alas ! it would have been better to have left it unfinished in 
 inferior species. Nature could have dispensed with insects 
 and reptiles ; but not with higher degrees of intellect and 
 goodness. 
 
 * All the Fathers of the church have agreed to present moral truths as 
 the first truths of Christianity ; and to seek the most briUiant proofs of 
 Christianity in its conformity with a pure natural morality. 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 185 
 
 Yes, man is an intermediate link in the chain of beings. 
 As he sees what is at his feet, so he has a presentiment of 
 what is above him. All that is most elevated in humanity, 
 moral and intellectual perfection, is exactly what approaches 
 most nearly to a superior nature, and what receives from it 
 the most direct influences. 
 
 Were this not so, what would mean that secret but insa- 
 tiable emotion of our souls, which incessantly directs towards 
 a higher perfection all those sighs, which constantly call for 
 a better state, and all those glances, turned upward, which 
 are the expectation of the accomplishment of a great mys- 
 tery ; what would mean that idea of infinity, which becomes 
 the most cruel poison if it is not a just and glorious hope; 
 that tendency to higher states ; those desires, which call 
 upon all that is capable of elevating us ; — that inward sen- 
 timent, which declares that we are the neophytes of a better 
 life ; — that natural dignity and pride, which is so unjustifia- 
 ble, when we consider only what we really are; — those 
 pure and warm affections, which would otherwise have so 
 transient an object; — that faculty of loving, which Avould 
 only find such imperfect and limited objects ; and that 
 virtue, so true in all which we can control by experience, 
 and which would be baffled in its dearest interests in what 
 we cannot yet verify 1 What would earth be, bereft of 
 God ? What would humanity be, disinherited of immortal 
 life ? O does not all morality invoke and proclaim, with a 
 unanimous voice, that relation of man with his Author, of 
 the present with the future, which alone solves all the prob- 
 lems of existence? 
 
 Religion, doubtless, is a sigh of weakness; but it is, 
 above all, a wish and want of virtue, which alone nourishes 
 those noble instincts which religion is to satisfy. Virtue 
 thrills at the sight of religion, with the same joys as a son feels 
 when he flies into the arms of his mother. And what voice 
 would be raised within men to answer to the Creator's voice, 
 if not that of conscience ? What powers would greet and 
 16* 
 
186 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 receive religion, when presenting itself upon earth, and 
 would bring to it the reverence of men, if not those moral 
 powers by which humanity is animated, elevated, and di- 
 rected 1 What principle could germinate religious truths, 
 in a soul deprived of the sense of what is just and good? 
 What intelligible language could piety address to a heart 
 deaf to virtue 1 
 
 Of what use is it to seek laboriously, whether or not in 
 some corner of the globe some ignorant colony may be found, 
 which, sunk into stupidity by the want of the chief necessa- 
 ries of life, has only confused ideas of the Supreme Bene- 
 factor, and the worship due to him ? What is the impor- 
 tance we attach to the vague narrations of travellers ? Yes, 
 religious ideas are enlarged and developed with civilization, 
 because they can only spring up with moral habits ; and 
 this is what proves their affinity with moral sentiment. 
 They acquire grandeur and truth in proportion to the purity 
 and energy of this sentiment. Of what use is it to accumu- 
 late so many wretched examples of blind or cruel supersti- 
 tions, which have sullied the worship of God upon earth ? 
 It is true that man will carry into his worship his passions 
 and his errors ; he necessarily corrupts, by adopting religion. 
 But it is no longer the worship of the divine nature, it is 
 profanation ; and nothing proves, better than this, how nat- 
 ural a preparation are purity of heart and innocence of life, 
 for true religious sentiment. Let us seek for more instruc- 
 tive facts in the aspirations of mankind. The experience 
 of a good man is that which I consult, and upon which I 
 rest. Religious sentiment in him is, as it were, but the 
 continuation and consequence of those sentiments which 
 already fill his soul, taking a wider range. He will be re- 
 ligious, for he deserves to be so. Whatever there is in him 
 pure, laudable, and generous, will be satisfied. He has 
 thirsted for justice ; and the streams of an eternal, infinite, 
 universal justice will flow before him, and all the wrongs of 
 the earth will be repaired. He has delighted in the emotion 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 187 
 
 of gratitude ; he will discover the Author of all blessings. 
 An ideal has wandered in his thoughts ; he will find it real- 
 ized. He has placed his happiness in devotedness; he 
 will be able to consecrate all the faculties of his being to a 
 boundless love, and to make a tribute to God himself, of the 
 good he does to other men. 
 
 By the practice of excellence, then, the virtuous man is 
 already the neophyte of religion : he desires it, he calls for 
 it ; he is prepared to understand it : he makes ready a 
 temple for it within himself: and what temple is more wor- 
 thy of it than the heart of the good man ? He will not be 
 false to its teachings ; he will not prevent its august charac- 
 ter ; he will not corrupt it by the mixture of impure passions. 
 Religion will not be to him an instrument, but an end. He 
 will profess it, not to display, but to enjoy it ; he will enjoy 
 it, not as a vain allegory which amuses his imagination, but 
 as a profound truth which fills his heart ; not as a peculiar 
 privilege which flatters his vanity, but as the patrimony of 
 all mankind ; not as a distinction which insulates him, but 
 as a bond which unites him more closely to his brethren. 
 He will not seek in it the right of condemning others, but 
 the duty of judging himself more severely; he will not seek 
 in it a means of encouraging himself in his errors, of dis- 
 pensing with active obligations, but a light which may 
 guard him from erring, a power to triumph over obstacles, 
 an encouragement to do better. In a word, he will enter 
 into the true spirit of religion, because he will be inspired 
 by the uprightness of his heart. 
 
 Intellectual progress contributes also to the developement 
 of a truly religious spirit. For it must not be forgotten 
 that intellectual progress depends much less upon extensive 
 acquirements, than upon that harmony of the faculties, 
 which is the health of the understanding. Now, religious 
 truths present themselves naturally to a good mind, as a 
 good mind is required to understand them. Providence 
 has willed that these truths should be founded upon good 
 
188 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 sense ; * and it ought to be so, since they are the inheritance 
 of all men. These inferences of common sense are enrich- 
 ed and strengthened by judicious learning ; although they 
 may grow weak with increase of knowledge, if the mind 
 contract vicious habits. They share this destiny and these 
 dangers with all moral and philosophical truths. From the 
 salutary influence which they exert over intellectual pro- 
 gress, vv^isdom and virtue carry a new tribute to religion. 
 
 What are those superficial observations which present 
 philosophy to us as hostile to religious doctrines ? Whence 
 has been taken a supposition so evidently contradicted by 
 the nature of things? Is it enough that some writers, in the 
 name of philosophy, have attacked some of these doctrines? 
 Has there been no writer, then, v\^ho, in the name of relig- 
 ion, has attempted to justify superstition or fanaticism? 
 Let us leave this observation of to-day, and recur to the 
 language of history ! Observe in all countries and ages the 
 sacred band of genuine sages, proclaiming with unanimous 
 testimony the harmony of religion and morality, as a funda- 
 mental truth of reason, and the noblest and most useful 
 prerogative of human nature ! These are better auxiliaries 
 of religious ideas than the apologists of ignorance. 
 
 The causes, which, by rendering man unfaithful to the 
 true spirit of religion, corrupt its precious fruits, and the 
 causes which alienate him from religion, by preventing him 
 from rising to it, are very analogous. Man often passes, 
 alternately, from one of these two states to the other ; and 
 often also, with different individuals, the mere glimpse of 
 one of these states, contributes to throw them into the other. 
 
 When religious ideas are perverted, the weakness of the 
 human mind and the narrow limits in which it is confined, 
 must not alone be arraigned. Too often, it is true, instead 
 of rising to these lofty conceptions, it endeavours to bring 
 
 • This the author hopes to have demonstrated, in a treatise on the Ex- 
 istence of God, which he intends to publish. 
 
MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 189 
 
 them down to itself; it sullies their purity by mingling with 
 them the fantastic and coarse productions of the imagi- 
 nation and senses ; it mutilates them in order to subject 
 them to its own habits ; it partly veils them in the clouds of 
 its ignorance. 
 
 But the passions are generally accomplices of this profa- 
 nation ; perhaps secret passions ; but because secret, their 
 ravages will only be more certain. Selfishness may bring 
 its ever interested and mercenary intentions into religious 
 views ; seeking in religious ceremonies a prompt, direct, 
 and powerful means of satisfying temporal interests and 
 sensual desires. Pride may take possession of the ex- 
 ternals of religion, in order to justify itself in its individ- 
 ual pretensions, and to confirm itself in its disdain for oth- 
 ers. Envy, associating with pride to produce sectarianism, 
 may seek in religious doctrines, arms for lamentable com- 
 bats, and exercise itself in animosities and revenge. Weak- 
 ness of character also tends to corrupt these sublime consid- 
 erations. It will find in them only a source of terror ; it 
 will reap only dejection, and perhaps despair, from that 
 noble communion in which man was to find a new life and 
 renewal of strength. 
 
 Four different and principal causes conduce generally to 
 irreligion. 
 
 First, skepticism of mind. — But skepticism, so far as it 
 is a result of the reasoning faculties, is much more rare than 
 we think. Absolute doubt cannot constitute itself into a 
 doctrine, without falling into an evident contradiction. 
 Generally, skepticism is not a system, though it has the 
 form of one, but a malady of the mind. It is the infirmity 
 of an intellect that has more subtlety than justness, more 
 penetration than comprehensiveness, more cleverness than 
 vigor, which, stopping at details without seizing upon the 
 whole, succumbs to every objection, without comprehending 
 the reach of proof. 
 
190 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Perhaps the most frequent and general cause of irreligion 
 is the indifference which springs from frivolity, or from that 
 preoccupation of the mind with material interests, which 
 makes man morally puerile. It is a want of reflection, in that 
 dissipated being, who has neither interrogated his destiny, 
 nor consulted his conscience. It is the sleepiness of a 
 heart that has not yet felt the want of great and generous 
 affections. It is the consequence of slavery to sensual 
 pleasures, and of the reckless dulness that accompanies all 
 servitude. 
 
 Some melancholy men do not abandon religious ideas 
 from being estranged, but from being discouraged. They 
 are afflicted by this great privation, as for a fast of reason 
 and the heart ; they are afflicted for the human race as well 
 as for themselves ; they only see through a glass darkly ; 
 their imagination puts creation and themselves into mourn- 
 ing ; they only see disorders, moral and physical ; they lose 
 themselves in them as in a labyrinth ; they despair of the 
 future and of all destiny ; they suppose in the unknown 
 only evil influences ; and these sad dispositions increase 
 still more in those who have been the victims of the injus- 
 tice of men and the caprice of fate, and are especially devel- 
 oped in those who feel inward inquietude, and are discon- 
 tented with themselves. 
 
 But religion has no mortal enemy, save immorality and 
 corruption. A man must be degraded to the last degree, 
 before he can be completely divorced from it. Let the 
 young, therefore, keep their hearts pure, and love truth. 
 Then they may interrogate their nature in good faith ; and 
 they will find the voice of reason and conscience in accord-* 
 MUC&f which will reveal all that it is necessary to know, 
 
PART II. 
 
 THE CULTURE OF THE xMORAL POWERS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 INWARD DISCIPLINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 The Love of Excellence and the principle of Self-control 
 are cultivated under two general conditions, simplicity and 
 exercise : the former, a conservative principle, the latter, 
 active and creative; simplicity protecting our faculties in 
 their original source, exercise seconding them in their pro- 
 gressive developement. 
 
 Let us first meditate upon what is peculiar to each of 
 these two general conditions. Afterwards we will proceed 
 to say how they may be cultivated, according to the peculiar 
 nature of each. 
 
 We are not called upon to attain simplicity ; but only to 
 remain faithful to it. Like innocence, it is to be preserv- 
 ed; it cannot be recovered after it is lost. He who wishes 
 to produce it, only adds one thing more to his artificial 
 character; for it cannot come through imitation. Simplici- 
 ty accompanies a uniform progress, because the latter con- 
 sists in conformity to the intentions of nature. 
 
192 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 In the arts, simplicity is an essential characteristic of the 
 sublime and beautiful, elevating mere greatness to sublim- 
 ity, and adding grace to beauty. It is truth personified and 
 put into action ; rejecting all that profuseness, which retards 
 effect, all that complication which renders it doubtful; 
 allowing no details but those which have reference to the 
 end, no expressions which are not faithful to the thought, no 
 ornaments which do not spring from the subject, no attri- 
 butes except those which harmonize with the nature of the 
 thing. Displaying the unity of the design, it makes the in- 
 tention of the artist breathe from every part ; so that the 
 work, as if conceived by a single thought and executed by a 
 single stroke, produces one decided impression, with which 
 the spectator is immediately seized. 
 
 This character, which genius impresses on its produc- 
 tions, which is the whole secret of art, arises from simplicity 
 in the manner of conceiving and feeling. Mediocrity tor- 
 ments itself to multiply means, because it feels itself insuffi- 
 cient. Genius is composed, because it is confident, and 
 confident because it is strong. It sees the end, and the 
 direct way to it; it conceives the design exactly, and em- 
 braces it entirely, because it is filled with the subject. Now 
 simplicity preserves the vigor of genius, by preserving its 
 spontaneous freedom and native originality. Genius indeed, 
 studies incessantly; not, however, to obtain the original 
 conception of truth, but to be constantly penetrated by it. 
 It wishes to be filled with that which is reproduced in its 
 works : forgetting itself, it would become one with truth. 
 Like a priest inspired by his god, in delivering its oracles, 
 genius is merely an interpreter. 
 
 The same assistance, which simplicity lends to genius in 
 the arts, it lends to virtue in the moral education of man. 
 It adorns a great and beautiful character, by preserving to 
 the heart its virginity, to the powers their soundness, to 
 motives their purity. In character, it is truth of sentiment 
 and faithful action ; and in mind, truth of thought and 
 
SIMPLICITY. 193 
 
 adequate expression. It is to virtue what good sense is to 
 reason. 
 
 Simplicity of manners and language is approved by the 
 worldly as the natural accompaniment of what is noble and 
 distinguished ; yet simplicity of character, of which this is 
 the image, is rarely appreciated. This is because it is 
 difficult for the worldly to understand it. How can the 
 man, who only seeks the end prescribed by duty, be under- 
 stood by those, who, while they act, are thinking of the 
 opinion of others 1 While the worldly live for spectators, 
 the simple man lives for reality ; he passes along unper- 
 ceived, and rejoices in this obscurity, because by it he re- 
 mains more free. But when he executes great things, nat- 
 urally, and with ease, — having lived unremarked, and per- 
 haps disdained, — what surprise he excites! Being com- 
 pelled to admire him, men ask whence he derived such 
 miraculous powers ; and they find it was from that very 
 simplicity, which made him overlooked, but which allowed 
 him silently to collect all the energies of his nature. While 
 the worldly have wasted the gifts of nature, he has preserved 
 them entire ; while they have wandered by chance, he has 
 gone towards the goal assigned to him ; while they have 
 grown old, he has preserved the freshness of youth ; while 
 they have sunk under the chains they have imposed upon 
 themselves, he has remained obedient to primitive inspira- 
 tions. They had classed him with the vulgar ; but now 
 they are the vulgar in comparison with him. 
 
 How shall W9 preserve the generous sentiments, of which 
 nature has placed the germ in our soul, and the Love 
 of Excellence, which lays them under a common law, 
 and how do this amidst the tumult which is around us, 
 the events, the attention of others ; and discouraged, sub- 
 ject to the exigences of opinion, diverted as we often are? 
 Simplicity is the only effectual guardian. It watches at 
 the entrance of the soul, and repels the invasion of every 
 thing which would bring into it confusion and disorder. 
 17 
 
194 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 The Love of Excellence penetrates the simple, as light 
 the transparent crystal, being exhibited in them in all its 
 purity, rejoicing and happy. Virtue is so truly ours, we are 
 so truly born for it, that we understand it better, the more 
 entirely we remain in our proper place ; and its eloquence 
 is in proportion to our ingenuousness. The ways of virtue 
 are direct, its notions clear, its precepts just. The simple 
 heart finds it fit nourishment, and dwells in the sentiment 
 which it inspires, delivering itself up frankly, and reposing 
 securely ; for all is one in virtue ; every thing is in mutual 
 relation ; while every thing else but virtue is scattered, dis- 
 ordered, and complicated. 
 
 Unity in variety, that celebrated motto which contains 
 thoughts so profound, the key of the highest metaphysical 
 speculations among the ancient Platonists, is also the key to 
 moral theories.* It is a summary of the internal life of 
 man, and of his relations with the universe, as well as a 
 symbol of the universe itself.t Unity expresses what is 
 good, powerful, and true ; diversity, or variety, is in itself a 
 source of weakness, corruption, and error ; but when sub- 
 jected to unity by the power of order, perfection results. 
 Variety is the cause of divergency ; it is the chaos of the 
 innumerable propensities of personal interest ; it is an 
 abundance of external impressions, and a medley of strange 
 opinions. Unity is the end of improvement ; it is duty, 
 ever immutable, and always in harmony with itself; it is 
 the inward regulator. Misfortune, vice, every thing which 
 
 * This is because the metaphysical speculations of Plato were properly a 
 reflection of morality. 
 
 t God, the supreme unity, creating the variety of beings, subjecting 
 them to general laws ; the human soul, the created unity, conceiving, at 
 least in part, this variety, subjecting it to the operations of the arts, with- 
 out, and to the rules of morality, within, — are the two unities, placed, one 
 at the summit, and the other at the lowest degree of the scale of intelli- 
 gence ; answering to each other as the drop of dew answers to the star of 
 day, whose light it reflects. Unity in diversity. 
 
SIMPLICITY^ 195 
 
 degrades and leads the soul astray, is discord ; but peace, 
 dignity, and every thing which enlightens and elevates it, 
 tends to unity. Now unity is the portion of the simple ; they 
 receive, understand, and keep it. Unity of views and senti- 
 ments dwells in simplicity ; simplicity is the vase which 
 holds the gifts of virtue. 
 
 If we are doubtful of our own intentions, if we are deceiv- 
 ed about our own views, it is because we admit a plurality 
 of motives ; for ambiguity arises from complication. Sim- 
 plicity is a habit of candor and honesty, which the soul 
 forms in its dealings with itself. We may have mental 
 reservations in self-intercourse, as well as in our intercourse 
 with others ; but simplicity banishes both. There is noth- 
 ing in it, which may not be confessed and seen. From this 
 inward sincerity springs a naive and frank integrity of man- 
 ner. Simplicity does not secretly take back a portion of 
 what it gives; it does not secretly retract what it says; it 
 neither has reservations nor concealments ; it is not lost in 
 interpretations, and commentaries, and subtle distinctions ; 
 it says ^es and no. A few words are sufficient for it ; its 
 glance alone is language ; it has expressions exclusively its 
 own, stamped as with an inimitable seal, and carrying cer- 
 tain conviction. Its negligences are charmingly graceful, 
 because they are the evidence of disinterested self-forgetful- 
 ness ; they are like those waving draperies, which the hand 
 of art suffers to flow like a light veil over the most beautiful 
 forms. How easy and sure simplicity renders every thing! 
 what liberty of motion ! what rapidity of progress ! what 
 perseverance of purpose ! what cordiality in affections ! 
 what self-forgetfulness in friendship! what exchanges of 
 confidence ! what peaceful relations with others ! 
 
 Simplicity neither wearies, wounds, nor irritates self- 
 love ; it knows how to praise sincerely. It is the most effi- 
 cacious antidote of the poison of susceptibility. It capti- 
 vates without effort, because it has no design of captivating : 
 it especially attracts the tender and delicate. Its severity 
 
196 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 may indeed be the greater, since the principle of it is not 
 suspected : it gives itself up, and submits fully to judgment, 
 because it suffers itself to be known entirely, not avoiding 
 investigation, seeking no suffrages, confessing every thing, 
 even its own defects, or rather suffering them to be seen. 
 
 Men always act with restraint, when they act as before 
 others, and are preoccupied with their presence, and with 
 the idea that they are looked at. Every thing is sophisticat- 
 ed, as soon as men make opinion a standard ; they can no 
 longer think nor act from themselves ; things lose their 
 real and proper value, in order to receive one purely con- 
 ventional ; precautions are to be multiplied, a multitude of 
 consequences foreseen, and the most contradictory preju- 
 dices indulged : they know not what to expect ; they fear 
 betraying themselves continually ; they are in a state of 
 perpetual observation ; they are restless ; they walk on 
 burning coals ; they conceive a thousand designs, which 
 cannot be maintained ; at the same time they cannot esti- 
 mate the advantages they possess ; they judge themselves, 
 not by merit, but by skill ; they do not seek the legitimate 
 consequence, but personal success; and this seeming, 
 doubtful success, depends upon the most exacting, frivolous 
 judge ; and finally, though ambitious for success, they wish 
 to appear indifferent to it ; and this ambition flows back to 
 torment, agitate, and trouble them. Daring no longer to 
 confide in their own capacity, they even lose a portion of the 
 merit of their virtues ; they cannot tell, in that which they 
 do, what is done from the inspiration of a pure sentiment, 
 and what the mere desire of consideration inspires. Before 
 abandoning themselves to a generous emotion, they look 
 around to know whether they are observed, and whether 
 they shall be allowed to give themselves up to it. In an act 
 of devotion they think of their attitude. Thus, inspiration 
 is not preserved free, natural, spontaneous, and it cannot 
 shoot forth into production. 
 
SIMPLICITY. 197 
 
 Simplicity of character, by freeing us from a thousand 
 shackles, protects Self-government, as it protects the Love 
 of Excellence, because we escape, by it, all unnataral 
 situations of the heart. It is always strong, because it uses 
 its powers with economy ; reserving them for the decisive 
 moment, and bringing them forth in view of a clearly per- 
 ceived end. It is not fatigued by the efforts, which the ne- 
 cessity of acting a part requires, or by the affectation and 
 over-refinement, which are the consequence of this ; it does 
 not waste itself in the vain labor, which has for its object 
 merely the art of appearing. It acts with the freshness of 
 the morning, and enjoys all the vigor of youth. 
 
 Simplicity procures a healthful repose for the mind and 
 heart. It prevents us from being tormented, in a thousand 
 ways, by vain and trifling solicitudes. It guards us from 
 the excess of an inquietude, which wants to foresee, and 
 to be, every thing. It accustoms us to see and to take 
 things as they are. And why, after all, should we be dis- 
 turbed ? What do we seek, and what should we gain, by 
 so much toil? What is this fruitless torture, which we 
 impose upon ourselves ? Why do we not allow ourselves to 
 breathe ? The good that we pursue, is nearer to our soul 
 than we think ; it would come to it, if we only consented to 
 be more calm. Let us not be deceived : if we are so much 
 interested in finding outward supports, it is because we feel 
 our own weakness ; we run to meet the yoke, in order to 
 dispense with having a will of our own, and consequently, 
 with making an effort. Let us be simple, and we shall be 
 more daring ; we shall rely less on foreign aid ; we shall 
 have fewer difficulties to conquer ; we shall judge of our 
 strength better, and exert it more calmly. 
 
 The world imagines, that in simplicity there is a want of 
 sagacity ; and laughs at what it supposes its ignorance. 
 Yes, it is ignorant, but it is a happy ignorance of useless 
 things. Besides, it is full of true knowledge, such as springs 
 from the power of knowing one's self. If there are a mul- 
 17* 
 
198 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 titude of details, which it does not understand, yet what 
 rapid and sure understanding it has of all that is noble, 
 generous, and great ! 
 
 Sometimes the virtuous are not simple, even in the practice 
 of virtue. They suffer themselves to be prepossessed with 
 subtle views ; they give themselves up to disquieting inves- 
 tigations ; they burthen themselves with too many minute 
 observances ; they torment themselves too severely with 
 their own tyrannical and finical vigilance. They load 
 themselves with useless chains, with gratuitous and fruitless 
 duties. They suspect themselves unjustly ; they raise 
 doubts, imagine interpretations of their best intentions, and 
 conceive an excessive distrust of themselves. Thus the 
 labor of improvement becomes uselessly complicated, and 
 therefore difficult ; the way of excellence becomes entan- 
 gled, and they cannot pursue it freely. Sometimes they dis- 
 dain the every day virtues too much, and are tormented 
 with a desire for extraordinary things. They do not com- 
 prehend, that perfection can neither depend upon happy 
 circumstances, nor a magnificent scene of action. 
 
 Here we meet with a striking consideration : what raises 
 the value of simplicity is, that, while it is one of the essen- 
 tial and fundamental conditions of our moral education, it is 
 also a condition, which is accessible to the greatest number 
 of men, and to the very classes least favored. The most 
 obscure situations are indebted to their obscurity for this 
 advantage. 
 
 Simplicity of tastes is to happiness, what simplicity of 
 heart is to virtue. They favor each others, and both derive 
 wealth from economy. 
 
EXERCISE AND HABITS. 199 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EXERCISE AND HABITS. 
 
 All education is but a succession of exercises, rightly 
 conceived, and wisely graduated. It is the nature of our 
 faculties to be developed by being exercised : provided, how- 
 ever, that the exercise be progressive, and never exceed 
 the just measure which the actual state of our strength 
 permits. 
 
 Habits are new ways of existing ; they are acquired dis- 
 positions, resulting from an exercise, or from an inaction, 
 more or less prolonged. The great object of education is, 
 to make us acquire, with good habits, more extensive capaci- 
 ties ; but we may be seriously mistaken as to the nature of 
 useful exercises, the character of habits, and the effects they 
 may produce. 
 
 Continued or frequent repetition not only acts with vari- 
 ous but contrary influences, upon our physical organs, our 
 active faculties, our external sensibility, and our moral 
 aifections. 
 
 For want of knowing how to distinguish these things 
 clearly, great errors have been committed in school educa- 
 tion ; and very serious mistakes may be made, for the same 
 reason, in Self-education. We must learn to know how 
 much man depends upon his organs ; and also what power 
 he has over them. 
 
 The very numerous phenomena which result from the 
 repetition of exercis: s, and which, transforming the primitive 
 state of man, create a new nature, may be arranged under 
 some general laws. 
 
 A sensation gradually loses its intensity by repetition, and 
 at last hardly attracts attention ; the pleasure or pain, con- 
 nected with it, decreasing at the same time. But, what is 
 
200 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 singular, the sensation which ceases to be agreeable, or was 
 even indifferent, becomes in some way necessary, from 
 habitual repetition. We no longer enjoy it ; but we cannot 
 do without it. Thus arise artificial wants ; thus pleasures 
 become chains. 
 
 Organic action, by being repeated, becomes much easier 
 and more prompt. It becomes so easy, indeed, that it is 
 performed of itself, and without reflection. We know the 
 prodigious phenomena of this kind of habit; we see familiar 
 and evident examples of it, in games of skill, and in the 
 different mechanical professions. 
 
 External movements, having become habitual through 
 frequent repetition, do not wait for a signal from our will. 
 They anticipate volition ; recurring even against our will, 
 whenever the circumstances of place and time, with which 
 they are connected, return. They become automatical, 
 and are confounded with the movements that belong to the 
 vital functions. Contrary movement becomes impossible, 
 and, therefore, these habits may be a resistance and an ob- 
 stacle to the execution of voluntary determinations. 
 
 The imagination, so far as it is a passive faculty, is 
 affected by frequent repetition like the faculty of sensation. 
 Habit dims the brightness of its pictures, and gradually 
 effaces their colors. But, so far as imagination is an ac- 
 tive power, it receives an ever-increasing energy from fre- 
 quent exercise, forming combinations more rapid and ex- 
 tensive, and taking more complete possession of all those 
 harmonious relations on which they are founded. 
 
 The general phenomenon of the association of ideas is 
 only a habit, contracted by an exercise which governs the 
 memory. By grouping ideas, according to the fortuitous 
 order of succession or simultaneousness, the relations of 
 analogy between them are obscured. 
 
 Attention, and judgment, which is in some respects only 
 extended attention, are eminently free and spontaneous 
 faculties, and their efforts are more vigorous and independent, 
 
EXERCISE AND HABITS. 201 
 
 in proportion as they have the free and spontaneous action 
 which they require. It is their office to discern the details 
 of impressions and images, which from frequent repetition 
 have lost part of their vividness. 
 
 In proportion to the strength of the principle of the asso- 
 ciation of ideas, attention and judgment become powerless 
 and unable to separate and distinguish the links of the chain 
 of thought and feeling. Then, habit takes the place of 
 judgment, and governs it; and every access to the analysis 
 of reflection being closed, we believe without seeing, and in 
 spite of ourselves. 
 
 That part of our aff'ections, which depends upon received 
 impressions, and upon the vividness of images, is subject 
 also to be weakened, progressively, by habit. 
 
 Certain affections, by the effect of habit, cease to be pleas- 
 ures, but they become wants ; and these wants become 
 more imperious continually. 
 
 Personal feeling, in proportion as it indulges itself, be- 
 comes more exacting, more exclusive, more susceptible, and 
 more importunate; it sees the number and violence of its 
 necessities increase, without seeing the sphere of its happi- 
 ness enlarge. Incorporating with itself the means it em- 
 ployed in its interests, it so identifies itself with them, as 
 sometimes even to prefer them to those interests themselves. 
 
 Generosity, on the contrary, becomes more expansive and 
 free by exercise ; ridding itself of all that is artificial. 
 Its calmness increases with its activity, and its conscious 
 happiness is rendered complete by continuity, which dead- 
 ens every thing else. 
 
 The habitual practice of duties helps reflection and the 
 will. 
 
 Those duties, which prescribe the exact and constant 
 repetition of uniform actions, receive in practice a new 
 confirmation from habit : it is entirely the contrary with 
 those, which prescribe various and new actions. 
 
202 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 The Love of Excellence, an eminently free and sponta- 
 neous sentiment, acquires every increasing energy from 
 diligent meditation. 
 
 The soul becomes more capable of governing itself, both 
 in acting and restraining itself, in resisting and conquering, 
 by a series of continued and progressive efforts. 
 
 In these few laws is comprised the whole history of the 
 passions, and of the operations of the human mind. 
 
 First, we find in them the origin of the distinction be- 
 tween the arid and the ardent passions ; the former, like 
 avarice, arise from mechanical habit, which stifles all sensi- 
 bility ; and the second, like love and anger, from an impulse 
 of activity, which renders sensibility more energetic. We 
 see why the latter continue only as long as their objects pre- 
 sent themselves surrounded by new circumstances that seem 
 to renew them ; and why, when these circumstances are 
 wanting, the ardent passions become fixed and arid. 
 
 Secondly, in these laws, we also find, both the origin of 
 prejudice and the source of discovery : the former arises 
 from the blind routine in which mechanical habits engage 
 the mind; the latter, from the free action of reason, gradu- 
 ally bringing forth activity. 
 
 Thirdly, in these laws we may admire the advantages of 
 morality, that inexhaustible source of knowledge and activ- 
 ity, which makes the soul happy, by making it free, con- 
 stantly renews its youth, and puts it in full possession of 
 itself. 
 
 Finally, we may perceive by them the essential difference 
 between two kinds of education : the one founded only 
 upon the outward repetition of the same processes, which, 
 perhaps, give skill in practice, and inform the memory, but 
 render us incapable of inventing or bringing to perfection, 
 and which paralyse the combinations of the imagination, 
 and the independence of the judgment : the other, on the 
 contrary, going back to motives and principles, teaches us 
 to do better, by rendering to ourselves an account of what 
 
EXERCISE AND HABITS. 203 
 
 we do ; and to think better, by rendering to ourselves an 
 account of what we know. The former is but the tradition 
 of pedantry ; the latter, the art of wisdom : one makes 
 automata, and trains animals ; the other, animating and 
 enliorhteninor forms men. 
 
 When reflecting upon the abovementioned phenomena, 
 we observe that there are two kinds of exercises, and two 
 kinds of acquired dispositions, for man. There is a me- 
 chanical exercise, which consists in repeating the same acts 
 after a certain model, without referring to the motives, 
 which first induced them : and there is a reflective exercise, 
 which grows and is nourished on the predetermining mo- 
 tives. There are then passive habits, which are nothing 
 but the acquired faculty of producing the same actions, even 
 in the absence of a model, without the necessity of recur- 
 ring to it : and there are active capacities, which cannot 
 properly be called habits, by which we feel more vividly and 
 see more clearly. 
 
 These two orders of acquired dispositions appear directly 
 contradictory, and, at the first glance, we judge them in- 
 compatible ; the one narrows, the other enlarges ; the one 
 imposes chains, the other procures liberty ; the one prevents 
 reflection and will, the other gives them spring; and, what 
 is most remarkable of these two modes of exercise, the one 
 has principally its seat in our external organs, the other in 
 the soul itself; the one is principally subject to the condi- 
 tions of our temperament, the other is dependent essentially 
 on our intellectual and moral faculties. Thus, the soul and 
 its organs, though strictly united, depend upon two systems 
 of laws evidently different. 
 
 These two orders of acquired dispositions, moreover, if 
 their natural relations are not inverted, give mutual aid : 
 they are necessary to each other. The first is essentially 
 conservative ; the second may attain something new. 
 
 Study confides to the first kind of habits the results of 
 acquired knowledge, to be made use of when occasion 
 
204 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 requires ; so that it may not be necessary constantly to go 
 over the series of observations and reasonings which led to 
 the knowledge. Virtue also may confide to this first order 
 of habits all acquired good qualities, for future use; for it is 
 not necessary to be perpetually considering the foundations 
 of the duty, of which these qualities are the living expres- 
 sion. 
 
 But the advantage of habit, whether we apply it to virtue 
 or to study, consists in its being a conservative principle, 
 so that we may forget what is behind, and apply our activity 
 to new acquisitions. Here then is the art of progress ; for 
 by means of these admirable laws, man, although limited by 
 his condition, becomes capable of elevating and exerting 
 himself in an uninterrupted progression ; his actual attain- 
 ments, making him capable of attaining more. 
 
 Here also is a manifest proof, that progress is the natu- 
 ral destination of man; for these two dispositions, evidently 
 instituted for each other, are combined to give him wealth * 
 the one constantly receiving as a depositary, what the other 
 collects. 
 
 But all this beautiful and wise economy will be destroy- 
 ed, if we fall into either of the following errors : if an 
 exercise purely mechanical usurps the functions, which, in 
 moral education, belong to the reflective exercise ; or if, 
 satisfied with having acquired good habits, we neglect to 
 give them new life continually, through a developement of 
 the active capacities. Besides, all the utility of habits is 
 evidently subordinate to the primitive value of the deposit, 
 the preservation of which has been confided to them. Hab- 
 its, contracted by mechanical exercise which is blind in its 
 nature, receive, indifferently, good or evil, truth or error. 
 If, in this alternative, we have the happiness to meet the 
 most favorable chance, yet we shall still not possess any but 
 an unfruitful wealth ; in effect, we cannot employ a rule, 
 as we cannot apply a principle, unless we understand 
 its sense and spirit : — the wisest precept, the most exact 
 
EXERCISE AND HABITS. 205 
 
 axiom, adopted without being comprehended, cannot be 
 made to bend to a variety of circumstances, and they may 
 even become instruments of mischief. 
 
 But habits of this sort may be formed under less hap- 
 py chances ; and hence, those false associations of ideas, 
 which attach the notion of virtue to actions which virtue 
 would disown, and of which history and life show us the 
 deplorable effects. Habit gives to these associations a 
 singular tenacity, and, as it takes the form of an imperious 
 necessity, so they assume the aspect of duties, and we 
 obey them in good faith ; also, as habit becomes more 
 strong by time, so they appear more sacred. Thus our 
 ideas become confused ; we do not know what belongs to 
 routine, and what belongs to duty. More than one person 
 has found himself embarrassed, in not being able to discern, 
 in what presents itself under the image of an obligation, 
 that which really results from a moral law, and that which 
 is but an association of ideas formed in infancy. This ob- 
 servation itself, however true in some cases, in being gen- 
 eralized, has come in its turn, by another association of 
 id^as not less arbitrary and erroneous, to lead astray more 
 than one philosopher ; having served, in particular, as a 
 pretext to sophists for contesting the reality of moral no- 
 tions. 
 
 This association of ideas is the origin of conventional 
 virtues, which often take the place of the true, both by ex- 
 cluding the latter directly, and by absorbing the strength, 
 which they should claim. It is the secret of the artifice 
 which power employs, when it wishes to convert might into 
 right, producing submission by an appeal to habit, instead 
 of to the sense of law. It is the source of those narrow 
 views which deny general observations, and at the same 
 time give an absolute character to relative and purely con- 
 ditional rules. This is also one of the causes of that im- 
 movable and cold fanaticism which puts on the calmness 
 and dignity of reason, because in its false ideas of dutj 
 18 
 
206 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 habit has taken the place of enthusiasm. Finally, it is the 
 principle of the disposition which leads us to condemn those, 
 who do otherwise than we are accustomed to do ; and ren- 
 ders us more intolerant, in proportion as we become less 
 good and less wise. 
 
 Doubtless, when it has become a habit, knowledge ceases^ 
 to be an act of the mind, virtue ceases to be a real merit. 
 But originally, knowledge must have been an act of the 
 mind, and virtue a merit : otherwise, the former is not 
 knowledge, even when it recounts what is true, but a preju- 
 dice ; and the second is only a happy quality, and not a 
 title to esteem. Habit only serves to dispense with reviewing 
 incessantly what we have once clearly perceived, or with 
 renewing an effort for the observance of the same duty. 
 
 We repeat incessantly, that we ought to form good hab- 
 its. Nothing is more true ; but this is not saying enough ; 
 these habits should be founded on a good principle ; — that 
 is to say, upon an enlightened conviction, upon a reflective 
 sentiment, without which they would only constitute a kind 
 of external regularity, and would not contribute to moral 
 improvement. But this is not enough : even when the best 
 habits have been contracted, it is also necessary to refer 
 frequently to the principle which has presided over their 
 formation ; and, as knowledge once acquired by memory 
 would become barren and dead, if it were not frequent- 
 ly restored to its primitive vigor by generating theorems, 
 so also the most laudable qualities would degenerate, if 
 they were not frequently reanimated by the vital warmth 
 of moral sentiment. When not thus referred back to their 
 origin, they are liable to be confounded, in their effects, 
 with those blind habits, of which we have just spoken ; they 
 no longer lend themselves to the variety of applications and 
 wants which arise out of new circumstances; they are 
 found either too absolute, or totally insufficient. 
 
 In short, it is renouncing the principal benefit to be ex- 
 pected from habits, to rest on them and dispense with that 
 
EXERCISE AND HABITS. 207 
 
 internal activity, which should aspire incessantly to new 
 acquisitions. The cultivation of intellect is checked when 
 we turn perpetually in the same circle of ideas : ideas 
 obtained, ought to be unceasingly subjected to new devel- 
 opements, which call forth from them new relations. This 
 continued internal labor adds to the clearness of the notions 
 we possess, by rendering them fruitful ; in proportion as it 
 multiplies their number, it makes them more easily under- 
 stood, and establishes a more perfect consistency between 
 them : as we know more we know better. Moral cultiva- 
 tion is checked, also, if we neglect to offer to the Love of 
 Excellence new aliment, and to Self-government matter for 
 new triumphs. When we repose upon the consciousness of 
 good habits, we allow the inward powers, by which the soul 
 acts and displays itself, to languish and become extinct. 
 We keep up the appearance of action in the external world, 
 but the internal life ceases; thus, this pretended fatal repose 
 is, in reality, a going backward. On the contrary, when 
 the Love of Excellence, and Self-goverment, the active fac- 
 ulties of the soul, maintain their footing by successive con- 
 quests, all acquired qualities receive from them new force 
 and purity. For all rules, all motives of excellence, pre- 
 serve strict analogy to each other, and are derived from a 
 common source ; and the further we advance, the more 
 completely we seize the intimate relations which unite them. 
 
 Thus when we recommend exercise as the principal 
 means of progress, it must be understood, that we are not 
 only to exercise ourselves in acting, but in feeling and see- 
 ing also ; that we are not only to repeat mechanically the 
 same things, but to preserve the motives also, and to grow 
 in strength and free will. In a word, it is the soul itself, 
 which must be exercised in its most inward faculties. 
 
 Let us beware then of breaking up the natural harmony, 
 which should exist between good habits and the impulse of 
 progressive activity. Let us beware of wishing to subsist 
 all our lives upon the acquisitions of a few years, and, after 
 
208 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 having begun as men, to live on as automata. He who 
 would neglect to accept the assistance of habit, would fill 
 incessantly the cask of the Danaides : he would be, with 
 regard to the practice of virtue, what a man without 
 memory would be in regard to knowledge. Losing con- 
 stantly what he acquires, having no past, binding nothing 
 together by the spirit of connexion, he would be the sport of 
 continued change ; always beginning and never finishing. 
 Shut up in his habits, as in a sort of fortress, and con- 
 demning himself to unfold nothing of all that is hidden 
 within, he would cease to relish, or even understand excel- 
 lence. He would no longer lire, in the true sense of the 
 word ; he would be a sort of moral petrifaction ; he would 
 preserve only the form of what he was. While every thing 
 around him would be renewing itself, he alone would stand 
 still. Astonished to see himself surpassed by those who do 
 not share his lethargy, he would condemn progress itself as a 
 sort of rash innovation ; he would be scandalized at improve- 
 ments ; we should see him deny the possibility of making 
 ourselves better, smile disdainfully at the most just and noble 
 hopes, and think himself exempt from illusions, when he is 
 in reality only the slave of his prejudices. We should see 
 him systematically impose upon others the limits he has 
 imposed upon himself; like a paralytic, who should pretend 
 to deny men the faculty of motion. He might even attribute 
 to himself a marked superiority over others ; for we think 
 ourselves great when we do not perceive our limits. 
 
 Habit lends special aid to all the virtues, which imply 
 fidelity and constancy. The exercise of the active faculties 
 prepares a no less powerful aid to the virtues which demand 
 a spontaneous effort, a kind of transport of soul. Moreover, 
 all the virtues unite these two conditions, but in unequal 
 proportions. Moral education will enable us to satisfy the 
 demands of both. 
 
 In society, also, as well as in each individual, there is a 
 great, perpetual, and universal combat : the combat between 
 
EXERCISE AND HABITS. 209 
 
 tlie blfi and the new. It embraces ideas and sentiments, 
 arts and institutions. It is the combat between habits and 
 efforts, between repose and motion. We might say that 
 ^these two great forces, always present, play in the moral 
 Vorld the same part which is assigned by astronomers in 
 the planetary system to gravitation and impulsion ; but in 
 the planetary system they produce a perfect equilibrium ; 
 therefore its order is never broken. Or we might say, that, 
 as in external nature, there are two principles, one perma- 
 nent, matter and its properties ; the other always new and 
 productive, motion; — principles which are combined in 
 wonderful harmony : so in the combat between the old and 
 the new, one of the two forces is armed for resistance, the 
 other for attack ; one invokes authority, the other enthusi- 
 asm ; the former seems more faithful, the latter more gener- 
 ous ; the one, the guardian of stability, is conservative ; the 
 other, the mother of improvements, productive; the former, 
 by repelling all change, would stop all progress; the latter, 
 by hastening progress, would create all dangers ; the first is 
 as immovable, as the second is presumptuous ; the first is 
 occupied only in maintaining, as if nothing had begun ; the 
 second only in creating, as if nothing had existed. Let 
 them be united, instead of being hostile to each other. Do 
 we not feel the need of their mutual aid? By their union, 
 what is old will unceasingly renew its youth, which is the 
 only preservative against destruction ; what is new will be 
 engrafted upon this only solid foundation ; every thing will 
 go on together in harmony. This great alliance will pro- 
 duce progress. In social order, it will be the union of cus- 
 toms and freedom ; in science and the arts, it will be the 
 union of experience with the spirit of invention ; in morali- 
 ty, that of constancy and generosity. Behold, with what 
 art, nature, in the first education of man, has combined 
 these two rival powers ! Hardly is he born, before habits 
 are contracted ; they go on multiplying daily ; but, daily, 
 new objects modify, bend, and extend them, awakening and 
 18* 
 
210 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 preserving internal activity. Let us continue the work of 
 nature upon the same plan : let us watch over the origin of 
 our habits, in order to contract salutary ones, and to form 
 them only on mature reflection ; let us watch over them 
 also, when acquired, that they may not degenerate. But 
 let us also turn to the future, and never cease to be young 
 for truth and virtue. Borne upon a vast ocean, exposed to 
 innumerable tempests, but called to a fixed port, let mem- 
 ory be our anchor, hope our sail. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 
 
 The world commits the error of making morality con,sist 
 in the natural affections ; but philosophers, in their turn, 
 sometimes commit the error of separating it from the affec- 
 tions, and, sometimes, even of sacrificing the latter altogeth- 
 er. But sensibility, well directed, is a happy and gradual 
 preparation for the exercise of duty, rendering it easier and 
 more delightful, and, above all, giving strength to accom- 
 plish it ; for it is, as it were, the youth of the moral life. 
 Sensibility is nourished by disinterestedness; it makes us 
 practise it unconsciously ; and it gives to it a singular 
 charm, leading where duty would lead, without the notion, 
 or indeed the merit of it ; for it is the dawn of that Love, 
 which alone deserves the name. 
 
 The art of cultivating sensibility, and of directing it 
 aright, is, therefore, an essential part of our early internal ed- 
 ucation. Undoubtedly this beautiful faculty is a gift of na- 
 ture, and nature has distributed it unequally among men. 
 At the same time, there are none of us, who have been disin- 
 herited of this treasure of the heart. Those, who appear to 
 
CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 211 
 
 have been left in indigence, have only impoverished them- 
 selves, by neglecting or dissipating their patrimony. Sen- 
 sibility sometimes appears enfeebled with age, if experience, 
 which should only enlighten it, and society, which, in 
 many ways might give it support, have contrary effects. 
 But we have a larger part, than we are aware of, in the evil 
 caused ; and we should first of all suspect ourselves, our 
 own frivolity, and imprudence. 
 
 Two principal causes debase, and progressively destroy, 
 this delightful power of the heart, and prevent it from un- 
 folding. One has its origin without, the other within. The 
 first is the dissipation and distraction, which springs from liv- 
 ing in all kinds of external tumult, by which we are carried 
 from object to object, without being permitted to fix upon any 
 thing ; which, agitating us without relaxation, prevents us 
 from living with ourselves. And the other is that restless, 
 reflective, ambitious, personal feeling, which takes the forms 
 of pride, vanity, and self-love. The first cause dissipates 
 sensibility, the other dries up its source. 
 
 Sensibility is a principle hidden in the depths of the 
 heart, which only comes to light in the calmness of self- 
 recollection. It must fold itself up, and feed on its own emo- 
 tions : hence it delights in retirement and silence. It is a 
 delicate plant, which must grow apart, and in the shade ; an 
 exquisite and sweet perfume, which rapidly evaporates, if 
 exposed to the open air. In the scenery of nature, as in the 
 productions of the arts, sensibility seeks sweet and sombre 
 coloring, undulating and far reaching lines. It seeks mys- 
 terious recesses, which seem to open to it an asylum. It 
 has secret melodies, which can be heard only by the most 
 attentive ear. Nothing protects it better than grave and 
 serious thoughts. It cannot attend to many objects at once. 
 It cannot pass rapidly from one object to another. It at- 
 taches itself the more, the longer it has been attached. 
 
 The preoccupation of business is often more fatal to sen- 
 sibility than the dissipation of frivolity. The dissipation of 
 
212 SELP»E»UCATION. 
 
 frivolity has a limit, and sometimes the heart finds itself 
 again, and experiences a sort of surprise and oy, which 
 restore to it a new life. But the preoccupation of that 
 which we call business, is nothing but a habit of being 
 absorbed in material interests ; it places us face to face 
 with men in the attitude of defence ; it leads constantly to 
 the distinctions of thine and mine. In the transactions, 
 which compose business, each stipulates to acquire; while 
 in the commerce of the affections all are occupied with 
 giving. 
 
 Besides, sensibility generally avoids all that has the ap- 
 pearance of calculation ; and repulses that, which is too 
 determinate and precise. It fears to encounter shackles or 
 even to perceive them, seeing in them a restraint upon its 
 liberty, an obstacle to that forgetfulness of self, that confi- 
 dence in which it delights. It is disconcerted by the rigor 
 of methods, by the clearness of definitions. It needs a sort 
 of vagueness and mystery : it would wander freely : it can^. 
 not be a captive. 
 
 We know how deep is the taint which sensuality carries- 
 to the sensibility of the soul ; the injury is the greater, as 
 the pleasures are more material and gross in their character; 
 Man seems to lose, in this sort of excess, the consciousness 
 of his inward life. This kind of intoxication leads to the 
 sleep of the heart, as well as that of reason. However, if 
 these wanderings do not lead to absolute degradation, the 
 selfishness of the senses is less fatal to sensibility, than the 
 selfishness of auibitious pretensions. Though it seldom 
 happens, that we give ourselves up to sensual pleasures, 
 when the soul is full of lively and tender affections ; there 
 is, sometimes, in the sort of hilarity and personal enjoyment, 
 which these pleasures procure, a disposition favorable to 
 confidence and self-forgetfulness, and even ta generosity. 
 But pride, vanity, and self-love shut up the heart every way, 
 and do not permit to it any expansion. They keep it in a 
 constant state of hostility, of suspicion, and of the disposition 
 
CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 213 
 
 to invade. Pride introduces distance, while sensibility 
 would bring together, and confound. Pride would govern, 
 while sensibility would please. Vanity demands distinc- 
 tions, but sensibility requires that equality, which alone 
 gives rise to confidence. Vanity seeks applause ; but sensi- 
 bility fears admiration, lest it should take away from love. 
 Self-love troubles the social relations by its susceptibilities 
 and its claims ; sensibility has need, above all things, of 
 security in these relations. Pride loves to protect ; vanity 
 loves to show itself powerful ; both, therefore, sometimes 
 take pleasure in conferring, because in that they affect a 
 sort of superiority ; but their favors bear the impress of os- 
 tentation. Sensibility can accept protection, when neces- 
 sary : it knows how to enjoy receiving; and bears joyfully 
 the debt of gratitude, blessinor the hand which has conferred 
 the benefit. When it confers, it is ignorant of its generos- 
 ity, so natural is the impulse. Self-love may be ambitious 
 of pleasing; sensibility would do more ; it would give con- 
 solation, and is eager to make others enjoy. The most 
 exquisite pleasure upon earth, that of feeling one's self be- 
 loved, may be poisoned by self-love. Pride is disdainful, 
 while sensibility takes pleasure in setting forth and honoring 
 the object of its affections. Sensibility of heart is devel- 
 oped only in proportion as we forget ourselves, by accus- 
 toming ourselves to exist in others ; but there is no more 
 active, more ingenious, more persevering, more universal 
 Belf-seeking, than that of which vanity is the moving prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 Self-love is an enemy, so much the more dangerous to 
 sensibility, because it disguises itself when it seduces, and 
 insinuates itself near the heart, with forms of friendship, 
 seeming to associate itself with its interests. 
 
 If we succeed in removing from ourselves these two 
 obstacles, distraction from without, and self-seeking from 
 within, sensibility may then come to light ; and the disci- 
 pline proper to second it, will be much more simple than we 
 
214 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 may be led to think. For, there is no art which can give 
 sensibility ; the very efforts, which might be made to excite 
 it, would be dangerous : we should act upon the imagina- 
 tion more than upon the heart, and only deceive ourselves. 
 Emotions, which we make up and command for ourselves, 
 are neither useful, profound, nor stable. They paralyze 
 ingenuous emotions. If the education of this faculty of the 
 soul is an art, the true art will consist here, as in so many 
 other things, in only observing and following the indications 
 of nature, which, rightly understood, are always the voice of 
 Providence. It is plain, for example, that Providence wills 
 to keep us during early youth in the bosom of our family, 
 as in the abode where this great education may in the best 
 manner commence. But it is not, as we suppose, for chil- 
 dren alone that this school is open. There, the education 
 of parents must continue, and that of the aged must end; 
 all parties in turn drawing forth abundant instruction. The 
 family is a school for all, where we may learn every day, 
 what we ought to learn all our lives ; where we may learn. 
 to love ; where we may learn it so much the better, as we 
 are called upon to show ourselves more generous, and to 
 taste the happiness of conferring. It is there we obtain the 
 touching privilege of living for others, and of entirely for- 
 getting ourselves. It is therefore in the bosom of the do- 
 mestic affections, that sensibility seems destined to receive 
 its birth, to grow, and to strengthen. We may, with some 
 foundation, suspect those exalted sentiments, which certain 
 persons affect beyond their own sphere, but which they can- 
 not diffuse at home. Hence also, we often remark, that sensi- 
 bility withers or takes a wrong direction, with those whom cir- 
 cumstances have deprived of the happiness of their natural 
 relations. 
 
 In general, we preserve this precious faculty of the heart 
 only in proportion as we cultivate truth, and guard against 
 all that is exaggerated, affected, or factitious. The super- 
 ficial spectator is often deceived, We are oft^Qn deceived 
 
CULTIVATION OP SENSIBILITY. 215 
 
 with regard to ourselves, having much more real sensibility 
 than appears, or than we are sensible of, merely because it 
 has followed its regular course, and produces no extraordi- 
 nary and irregular explosions. There are people who mouri* 
 over the excess of their own sensibility, when perhaps they 
 ought really to be afflicted for not knowing how to love. 
 
 Hence arises undoubtedly the secret sympathy,, which 
 minds of sensibility feel for nature ; especially for the con- 
 templation of the works of creation. Nature^ by all the 
 various productions with which she has peopled our dwell- 
 ing-place, has formed a peculiar and eloquent, though si- 
 lent language, which addresses, awakens, and preserves our 
 affections. Her thousand shades of coloring, her thousand 
 perfumes, her thousand forms, her motions, which appear 
 spontaneous ; the combinations of these, and their succes- 
 sion, are all so many expressions, by which she seems to. 
 compassionate our sorrows, smile upon our joys, and invite 
 our tenderness and confidence. And these expressions are 
 so faithful, that we, in our turn, borrow them to supply the 
 barrenness of our language. It seems as if we imagined ai 
 vast theatre, upon which is represented, in a sort of wonder- 
 ful pantomime, the great drama of human affections. Here,, 
 grief seems to sigh, there, hope to brighten ; here, generosi- 
 ty seems to bloom, there, delicacy to veil herself from all 
 eyes : here, reciprocal attractions answer to each other, by 
 a sort of sympathy ; there, tributes are offered in warship ;. 
 while over all is serenity and silence, those safeguards of 
 pure sentiments, of that truth and ingenuousness, which 
 alone can give to sentiment, sincerity and candor. Such is 
 nature, and to this refuge the tender heart, when painfully 
 deceived in its intercourse with men, may come in safety, 
 for it is always open, it is always a faithful friend. Souls 
 united by celestial affection, are able to enter this sanctuary, 
 and to find in it a witness which seems to sympathize with 
 their happiness. Moreover, and this deserves to be partic- 
 ularly remarked, there is in the contemplation of nature, 
 
216 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 something which, unfolding sensibility, makes it serve it» 
 greatest purpose, that is to say, our moral education ; for 
 how can we fail to be directed towards the thoughts of vir- 
 tue, by those images of perfect though hidden order, which 
 are produced in the grand whole, and in the most minute 
 details, sometimes with imposing majesty, sometimes with 
 enchanting grace ; by this spectacle of a kingdom ruled by 
 wise and powerful laws, where all obey without effort, and 
 through obedience produce harmony and excellence ; by 
 these contrasts of change and steadiness of agitation and 
 repose, of birth and destruction and resurrection, of the 
 infinitely great and of the infinitely little, — contrasts which 
 appear so well to paint the secrets of cur destiny ; by the 
 brilliant testimonies of the immense wisdom which presides 
 over the universal system of being ; and lastly, by that peace, 
 so favorable to the meditations of the heart, and that ineffa- 
 ble simplicity, which reduces to nothingness the display of 
 human vanities. 
 
 Is our treatment of animals without influence upon the 
 habits of our character ? This question has for some time 
 excited, and deserves, indeed, serious attention. The ab- 
 surd hypothesis of the Cartesians cannot be supported in 
 presence of so many manifest signs, which announce, in 
 those unknown beings (separated from us by a thick bar- 
 rier, but endowed with organs similar to our own), a prin- 
 ciple of sensibility, and a dawning of intelligence. Audit 
 is impossible for a man to accustom himself to see the suffer- 
 ings of sentient beings, though invested with a different 
 form, without becoming less compassionate to the sufferings 
 of his fellow-mortals. This danger will become much more 
 serious, if he becomes the author of their sufferings ; espe- 
 cially if he goes so far as to take any sort of pleasure in their 
 sufferings ; for the principle of sympathy will be necessarily 
 destroyed by it ; and, if sympathy is not sensibility of heart 
 in all its purity, it is at least its prelude and auxiliary. Can 
 we consent to create pain upon earth gratuitously ? What 
 
CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 217 
 
 have these unfortunate beings done to us, upon whom we 
 exercise this power 1 Do we even torment those who lend 
 us their services with docility, and almost with eagerness ; 
 who seem even to share our pleasures, and to seek with us 
 the relations of a particular affection ? O should not the mys- 
 tery, which veils their existence from us, command in us a 
 sort of reserve, or at least of timidity ? However, let us also 
 beware ; there is a contrary exaggeration to be avoided. 
 If cruelty towards animals can harden the heart, there is 
 often, in the impressions received from the sight of their 
 sufferings, more of that organic sensibility, which the signs 
 of pain excite, than of those true emotions of the soul, which 
 alone constitute the affections. The unknown beings, 
 which breathe in the animal creation, whatever their nature 
 may be, are too far from us, too much below us, for our sen- 
 sibility not to be profaned by admitting them to a commerce 
 of those affections, which must always have a moral char- 
 acter. Sensibility has a certain dignity to preserve, in order 
 to fulfill its vocation. 
 
 There is a second condition not less essential to the cul- 
 ture of sensibility, and which refers to it still more particu- 
 larly. This consists in directing our affections towards 
 objects, which truly deserve to inspire and captivate them. 
 When wandering at hazard, they are exposed to mistakes, 
 or contract a fatal restlessness ; but on the contrary, when 
 founded upon reason and right, they will become more 
 strong and more durable. And this general observation 
 may have two applications ; our affections may be claimed 
 as a homage, and they may be invoked as an assistance. 
 
 Happy are those, who find models of virtue in the beings 
 to whom they are bound by the ties of nature, and who can 
 thus join the sentiment of veneration to the instincts of ten- 
 derness ! What love is this, mingled with admiration and 
 blending with the very worship of virtue ! Happier still are 
 those, who, by offering examples of a good life to the beings 
 whom nature has placed under their protection, can thus 
 19 
 
218 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 confer upon them the greatest of all benefits, by giving to 
 their hearts the most useful instructions, and affording to 
 their affections the most lawful titles ! How constantly 
 should attention to this be observed in the ties, which are 
 of our own choosing! Over these intimate relations should 
 preside a wise reserve and an enlightened discernment. 
 We complain incessantly of having been deceived in our 
 sentiments. Ought we not rather to accuse ourselves of 
 having been imprudent and blind, in the relations we have 
 contracted? This is not all : it is not given to us to find 
 around us perfect beings : habitual intercourse makes us 
 gradually perceive the imperfections even of the best. Lest 
 these discoveries should surprise and chill us, lest the fresh- 
 ness of sentiment should thus decay, — there is a sort of 
 delicate care to be taken in observing the objects of our 
 affections, in order that they may not be deprived of their 
 coloring, by the impressions which familiarity tends to pro- 
 duce ; we should veil from our own eyes what is least dis- 
 tinguished in them ; we should preserve unsullied the senti- 
 ment which honors them ; for we truly love only what we 
 can recognise as honorable. What more terrible enemy, 
 then, on the theatre of society, can sensibility encounter, 
 than that caustic spirit, which is eager to disenchant and 
 overthrow every thing ? What more fatal influence can 
 there be for it, than the sight of that cruel play of mind, in 
 which malignant frivolity takes pleasure in violating the 
 respect due to goodness of heart, and in pursuing candor 
 with the arrows of irony ? How can sensibility dare to ap- 
 pear where the art of aspersing, in elegant disguise, wears 
 the appearance of grace, and is celebrated as a thing of 
 good taste, and becomes a condition of success in society? 
 
 Dignity fears to incur debts of gratitude too lightly. Just 
 delicacy shrinks from incurring them from those it cannot 
 esteem, or with whom it can preserve only fugitive relations. 
 Self-love also frequently repels an obligation which humbles 
 it ; and emptiness of heart refuses to promise what it has 
 
CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 219 
 
 not the means of performing. But there are benefits, which 
 it is not in our power to reject, and which have even antici- 
 pated us before any reflection on our part. There is some- 
 times an exquisite delicacy, which requires us to accept : 
 and sensibility takes pleasure in receiving, in the most inti- 
 mate intercourse of affection ; thereby offering a more per- 
 fect pledge of love. He who accepts, loves. Gratitude, 
 born under such auspices, becomes the instructer and pro- 
 tector of sensibility. It gives to the affections the charac- 
 ter of a sacred debt. It elevates in our eyes those whom it 
 makes us love ; it disposes us to respect others ; it feeds on 
 memory ; it is the fidelity of the heart; it makes selfishness 
 captive as it were to love, and obliges it to render homage. 
 Gratitude also has a sort of generosity which is peculiar to 
 it ; this is the very sacrifice it imposes upon %elf-love. Let 
 us rejoice, then, that our destiny in life called us to receive, 
 in infancy and youth, so long a train of benefits. It was so 
 because gratitude is given to us to preside over the educa- 
 tion of our sensibility. Let us rejoice, in old age, to find 
 ourselves dependent upon the services of others. Gratitude 
 will thus again warm the heart to sensibility in the evening 
 of life. We have need of others from the cradle to the 
 grave, because love should occupy the avenues and the 
 issues of life. What is it to live, if it is not to love ? 
 
 Besides the affections, which carry us to those above us, 
 there are others, which are directed towards those who 
 solicit our aid ; for it is by this kind of exchange, by this 
 double direction of sensibility, that those gradual ties are 
 formed, which preserve life in human society. Pity is use- 
 ful to those, to whose relief it comes : it is still more so, 
 perhaps, to those who relieve. To the latter it teaches ten- 
 derness ; revealing to them all that is sacred in the ties 
 which unite us to our brethren ; introducing them into the 
 sanctuary of humanity. But the pity, which has this influ- 
 ence, is not disdainful ; it is a pity, which is mingled with 
 just respect for misfortune : it is not that which seeks to 
 
220 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 gratify itself by the sight of suffering ; it is that which feels 
 the need of drying up its sources. How easy it is to love 
 those whom we can indeed serve ! What new faculties we 
 discover in ourselves, when unexpected opportunities of 
 self-devotion offer, and when we afterwards taste the over- 
 whelming joy of having been able to shed around us relief 
 or happiness ! Even the warrior, so terrible in combat, 
 when oppressed innocence invokes his support, is not only 
 moved but softened, and the most delicate emotions of his 
 soul are brought to light. 
 
 This leads us to a third condition of sensibility. It is the 
 activity of benevolence ; and we here take benevolence in 
 the most general sense, as that which brings real benefit to 
 other men. Sometimes, sensibility, self-deluded, seems to 
 take pleasure in voluptuous repose. This state of prolong- 
 ed repose has a deceitful attraction for it : it would soon 
 exhaust and consume itself by the abuse of solitary pleas- 
 ures. It needs action for its food, as well as experience for 
 its regulator. When benevolence becomes beneficence^ 
 sensibility learns to personify and particularize its emotions, 
 and to give them a determined object. It feeds upon the 
 same things, which serve to satisfy it. It is encouraged by 
 the rewards it receives. He who devotes himself to others, 
 learns to love still better ; for then only can he know all the 
 bliss of loving. Sensibility is made perfect through benefi- 
 cence, because in that, it fulfills its true destination, defend- 
 ing itself from the sombre melancholy which consumes it 
 when inactive, and preventing the dangers, to which a thirst 
 for the vague and the indefinite exposes it. The sensibility 
 of beneficence, incessantly finding around it new objects 
 which invoke and respond to it, is reanimated every instant 
 with new life ; in short, if it experiences disappointment, 
 instead of the affection which it hoped for, it has always an 
 advantage, which is subject to no mistake, the memory of 
 good done to others. 
 
CULTIVATION OP SENSIBILITY. 221 
 
 Memory and hope are the two great levers, which act 
 upon the developement of sensibility, with an almost equal 
 power, but in a different manner. 
 
 Although memory is partly an organic phenomenon, the 
 reminiscence consequent upon it is an intellectual and moral 
 phenomenon of great interest. There is nothing more 
 grave and serious in itself than the return towards the past 
 which is no more. It puts us in presence of the future ; it 
 teaches us at once, both the changeableness and perma- 
 nence of our being ; it recalls to us our weakness and 
 our dignity ; it leads us to enter into the high mysteries of 
 existence. Ourself, which appears and is recognised in the 
 distance of of time, is astonished and affected to find itself 
 there. Around this ancient self, revive the objects of affec- 
 tion, all the old companions of life; but they rise surround- 
 ed by an unknown charm. There is something tender and 
 solemn in this meeting. We feel, that, amid the rapid and 
 variable course of circumstances, there are still indestructi- 
 ble ties. The cultivation of recollection, then, opens 
 abundant sources to sensibility. It consecrates the images 
 of the absent; it gives a religious coloring to the affections 
 of the heart ; it places them under the safeguard of fidelity, 
 and by this fidelity communicates to them a singular purity 
 and elevation. It is remarkable for being by nature emi- 
 nently disinterested ; for it can satisfy no ambition , it can 
 acquit only the debts of the heart. But when, filled with 
 regrets, memory concentrates the soul upon itself, it tends 
 to throw it into a sort of languor, it surrounds it with a cloud 
 of melancholy, and, if it were not sustained by virtue, it 
 would sometimes be carried away by despair ; if it were not 
 fed by virtue, at other times it might also be annihilated. 
 Memory becomes weakened by time ; but time gives to 
 memory, when this can survive it, an ever-increasing charm. 
 It thus prolongs that glance, which the soul throws upon 
 the past, and thereby imparts something more majestic and 
 august to the objects it discovers there, and gives a greater 
 19* 
 
222 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 value to the constancy of the affections, with which it con- 
 tinues to honor them. 
 
 The future, also, has its prospects and its mysteries, and 
 some, which have still more extent and depth. The past is 
 limited, determined, definite ; the future is unknown, and 
 seems without bounds. The past is decided, immutable, 
 out of our power : the future seems to belong to us; it be- 
 longs to us, at least, in all that is subject to free will. 
 From the bosom of the future, seem to issue a thousand 
 voices, which respond to our affections. They are so many 
 echoes, which repeat to the heart its own invocations and 
 aspirations. What continued emotions this concert pre- 
 serves and renews, without ceasing ! Hope adorns at will 
 the objects of the affections. It invests them with a vague- 
 ness, which embellishes them still more. It lends them 
 another attraction, by the very distance, at which it keeps 
 them, and by our impatience to possess them. It is not, as 
 yet, cooled by possession, or disenchanted by experience. 
 Hope is expansive, like love. It animates love by confidence. 
 It is serene, joyous, radiant. It triumphs beforehand. It 
 communicates to the affections the impulse by which it is in- 
 spired. The future has its terrors, however, as well as its 
 hopes : and hope, the daughter of imagination, accompan- 
 ies the capricious power from which it springs, in its wan- 
 derings, and suffers from its mistakes. And if imagination 
 has nourished sensibility by flattering it, so it may by de- 
 ceiving destroy it. Hope, also, opens^to selfishness the same 
 career as to generosity and affection : and therefore may be 
 seduced and corrupted. 
 
 The presence of novelty is a signal to man, of hope and 
 fear. The more unknown is the situation, the more free is 
 the imagination to fill it with anticipations, which may 
 smile upon or terrify him. 
 
 Placed thus between the old and the new, man, when he 
 dwells too long upon any one object, may, according to its 
 nature, become discouraged, or abandon himself to pre- 
 
CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 223 
 
 sumption. Providence has granted him these two points of 
 view, that their contrary influences may temper each other. 
 The cultivation of sensibility will receive from their con- 
 currence the most favorable assistance. There is nothing, 
 which excites in the soul more powerful emotions than the 
 wakening of an old recollection, when, after a long inter- 
 ruption, it is suddenly revived by new circumstances. Then 
 the two great movers of human sensibility act at once, unit- 
 ing and combining their forces. All the power of memory 
 is found united with all the magic of hope. The soul ex- 
 tending itself on all sides, seems to seize upon the future 
 and the past. But the future has no longer deceitful illu- 
 sions, since it presents itself as a reflection of experience; 
 the past is no longer full of regret, because it has become 
 present again. This rare and wonderful combination of 
 effects is sometimes afforded to the exile, when, on his return, 
 he postrates himself upon his native shore ; and sometimes 
 has been afforded to a whole people, by those great political 
 revolutions, which have either restored princes who were 
 dear, or institutions which were sacred. Such happiness 
 can only be tasted upon earth momentarily ; but doubtless 
 awaits the virtuous on the threshold of immortality. The 
 very nature of things does not permit these uncommon 
 occurrences to produce a lasting effect. But it depends 
 somewhat upon ourselves to render them more frequent. 
 Let us put our hopes under the protection of experience ; 
 let us nourish the reminiscences of the heart, by legitimate 
 and reasonable expectations of promised reunion ; in other 
 words, let us confide in the virtue of these two great levers. 
 This faith will bring them into harmony. What is virtue 
 itself, but an ever enduring hope, dwelling amidst the most 
 constant recollections 1 For it is always old and al waj'S new ; 
 old in its immutable rules, new in acts of self-devotion. It 
 carries the soul back to its origin, and unveils to it the fu- 
 ture. It renews its youth incessantly by the creations it 
 requires, and the rewards which it promises. 
 
224 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Independently of the causes which may develope sensi- 
 bility, there are some which contribute especially to preserve 
 it. In the number of the latter, we should particularly point 
 out fidelity to the affections, and habits of respect. 
 
 Generous sentiments follow a law, the reverse of that 
 which regulates organic sensibility. These are strengthen- 
 ed by exercise, and grow in feeding upon themselves. If 
 men, changeable in their affections, think that they have 
 real affection, they make a mistake ; they take the im- 
 pulses of the imagination for the emotions of the soul. In 
 changing its objects sensibility condemns and secretly con- 
 tradicts itself; and contracts something of caprice. Fideli- 
 ty is the integrity of sentiments, which, elevating them to 
 the dignity of virtue, imparts to them something more pure. 
 Let it be observed that we speak not that wild sensibility, 
 which lavishes itself in demonstrations ; but of that which 
 resides in the bottom of the heart, and which makes us live 
 in those we love. 
 
 Habits of respect give self-collectedness ; they aid reflec- 
 tion ; they diffuse calmness, and restore order to the inward 
 world. Respect for other men so far as it is due to them, 
 respect for self, respect for truth and for the laws of duty, 
 protect all sincere and deep emotions. The sentiment of 
 respect prevents that frivolity, which is the most common 
 enemy of sensibility ; it surrounds the soul with a rampart 
 against a crowd of distractions. It favors self-communion ; 
 it gives to this communion dignity and seriousness. Ask 
 the affectionate and tender if they do not take pleasure in 
 respecting the object of their affections 1 And what would 
 become of the delicacy of love, if this veil were torn away 1 
 
MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 225 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Meditation is the great and universal teacher of man* 
 Alone imparting the light of theory, it presides over all the 
 creations of genius, and the discoveries of science ; and 
 guides all its applications to art. But meditation performs 
 a still more important part in our moral education ; for in 
 this last function it sheds the fullest light, putting man in 
 possession of all his faculties, and elevating him to all the 
 dignity of his nature. In the arts and sciences, meditation 
 can only elaborate the elementary facts furnished by obser- 
 vation. In the work of our moral education, its end is also 
 to make us explore our own nature, in order to gather from 
 it the elementary facts, which will reveal to us the laws of 
 duty and initiate us into the knowledge of ourselves. In 
 the arts and sciences, meditation operates only on our ideas, 
 but in the work of our moral education it must excite the 
 sentiments which are associated with or flow from the idea 
 of excellence, and must animate us to realize them in prac- 
 tice. Meditation is the soul of wisdom; and, if meditation 
 presents many difficulties in study, and is familiar only to so 
 small a number of minds, it is plain that access to it, is, on 
 some accounts, less easy and still less common in morals ; 
 for the exercises of study are supported by different sorts 
 of sensible signs, or nomenclatures ; but in the sphere of 
 morals, all external aid is wanting ; and thought remains 
 entirely abandoned to itself, feeding only upon its own fruits, 
 and sustaining itself only by its own strength. 
 
 There is, as we have said, in morality, both an idea and 
 feeling : the idea enlightens the intellect, and feeling gov- 
 erns the will ; but the feeling flows from the idea clearly 
 conceived. Such is the imposing authority with which God 
 
226 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 has invested the law of duty, that in proportion as it is 
 offered to our minds simple, and free from all that is facti- 
 tious, it exercises over us certain and absolute authority. 
 But this idea of duty we seek in vain, in the world without ; 
 we can only find its reflection there. It resides in ourselves, 
 in the deep sanctuary of consciousness. But we must not 
 wait for it to show itself; we should take pains to discover 
 and observe it. Ignorance and inattention cover it with a 
 veil. When we are unfaithful to the law of duty, it is not, 
 that we have an intention of violating it, but that we have 
 neglected to study it. And far from doing evil for evil's sake, 
 it would be almost impossible for us to resist the attraction 
 of excellence, if we saw it in all its brightness. It is not 
 enough, however, to look upon the model. We must dwell 
 upon it a long time. It is necessary, that its influence 
 should be gradually shed upon the soul, penetrate its deep 
 recesses, take possession of and occupy it entirely. Such 
 is the end which the art of meditation proposes. It is there- 
 fore the first and most powerful of arts, since it alone can 
 give man the enjoyment of the highest faculties with which 
 the Creator has endowed him, and since it alone gives to 
 intellect the character of a cause. 
 
 Struck with the importance and fruitfulness of this great 
 art of meditation, philosophic and ascetic writers have vied 
 with each other, in their endeavours to trace its precepts ; 
 and we are indebted to them for a great number of useful 
 counsels upon a subject, on which such counsels are neces- 
 sary. Yet the art of meditation has shared the fate of all 
 other arts, when overwhelmed by the weight of didactic 
 rules. It has been embarrassed by recommendations, use- 
 less alike, to those who are capable of acting for themselves, 
 and to those who are not. For these recommendations tell 
 the first only what they would do of themselves, and advise 
 the second to what they are incapable of doing. It has been 
 loaded with almost mechanical processes, which, by en- 
 deavouring to render its operations more easy, take from 
 them the true principle of action. 
 
MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 227 
 
 Thus, it has been thought necessary to choose a subject, 
 determine it, circumscribe it, divide it. Time and place have 
 been assigned for action and for repose, for considerations 
 and for sentiments. The very moments for reflection and emo- 
 tion have been pointed out. Charts have been drawn, meth- 
 ods prescribed, formulas composed. Thus the exercise of the 
 moral and intellectual faculties has been rigorously subject- 
 ed to a routine in which every thing has been arranged 
 beforehand. It has not been considered, that these facul- 
 ties, in order to fulfil their functions well, must preserve a 
 certain degree of independence. It has been too much for- 
 gotten, that the first and most useful counsel for meditation, 
 consists, in recommending that energy and freedom of mind, 
 which permits the soul to appropriate to itself the truths it 
 meditates upon, having first drawn them out from its own 
 depths. 
 
 In effect, what is most difficult in the exercises of medi- 
 tation is, — not to meditate after having begun, but to find 
 out, and to penetrate, the region of meditation. Its access 
 is so difficult, that it terrifies those who attempt it, and this 
 circumstance explains to us why the art of meditation is 
 practised by so few. When we first wish to give ourselves 
 up to it, we feel repelled, as it were, on all sides. First, 
 a thousand recollections assail us in the retreat where we 
 have sought refuge. The changeable and capricious phan- 
 toms of distant events return, and hovering around us in a 
 thousand forms trouble us, more than the objects them- 
 selves did, when they were present. Do we succeed in 
 quieting this tumult, a second trial not less painful awaits 
 us. It is silence, obscurity, a void. Instead of those fertile 
 regions we hoped to visit joyfully, we discover only a barren 
 desert. In vain do we invoke the celestial images, which 
 we thought would enrapture us. They fly from us ; we 
 fall back upon ourselves, overwhelmed with the weight of 
 ennui. We see within us only the horrors of a vast solitude. 
 Do we make another and a last effort? The darkness 
 
228 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 seems to disappear, and our ideas to revive ; but they rise 
 confused, incoherent, and disordered. They escape when 
 we expect to seize them. They hurry, crowd, and strike 
 against each other, and perhaps plunge us into the worst 
 trial of all, the trial of uncertainty and doubt. It is only 
 when we have courage to overcome these three classes of 
 difficulties, that we at last attain that luminous and peaceful 
 sphere, in which all the fruits and all the pleasures of medita- 
 tion await us. But before we attain it, how often are we 
 discouraged. We renounce the attempt, we declare that 
 success is impossible. It is of primary importance, then, 
 to facilitate the access to the regions to which meditation 
 calls us. This may be done by suitable preparation, and all 
 the cares this preparation demands are comprised in self- 
 recollection. Self-recollection does not consist exclusively, 
 as some mystics have thought, in that isolation, which frees 
 the soul from all external distraction. It demands, how- 
 ever, especially, that the soul should collect all its forces, 
 and dispose of them with sovereign power. The presence 
 of certain external objects will sometimes strengthen rather 
 than weaken this energetic act; for, in the absence of 
 every external object, the soul sometimes remains plunged 
 in lethargic indolence. Self-recollection is a state of in- 
 ward liberty, at once active and peaceful, because it is well 
 regulated. But we do not attain this state at will, or in- 
 stantaneously. The very faculty of enjoying it, is a pre- 
 rogative, purchased by a long novitiate, and it is on this 
 point, that inexperienced persons are deceived, who present 
 themselves at the gate of the sanctuary, confident of being 
 immediately admitted. Neophytes of a day, they are aston- 
 ished not to obtain initiation ; but they must begin by ren- 
 dering themselves worthy of it. This necessary novitiate 
 consists, in a good plan of life, in observing order, regu- 
 larity and sobriety in all things, and especially in the habit 
 of self-watchfulness. 
 
MEDITATION, A MEANS OP CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 229 
 
 There is, then, a long and distant, as well as a near and 
 immediate preparation for meditation. The latter may be 
 aided by a concurrence of external circumstances, such as 
 silence and retirement. Certain places and hours are more 
 particularly favorable. The places suited to it are those 
 most in harmony with our mental habits and dispositions ; 
 those which inspire calmness, and, at the same time, excite 
 uniform and serious impressions. The hours which are 
 suited to it, are those, in which the soul, yet free from all 
 communion with external objects, enjoys all its vigor and 
 possesses itself; or those when, after having been interrupt- 
 ed in this communion, it returns to itself, and resumes its 
 newly acquired experience. Yet the influence of these 
 different circumstances is modified according to individual 
 character. There are some who need a more absolute iso- 
 lation, and whose meditations never have more strength 
 than in the profound solitude of night. There are others, 
 on the contrary, whose thoughts must be sustained by the 
 presence of a spectacle analogous lo their subjects of medi- 
 tation ; as a weak and timid voice must be accompanied 
 by the harmony of instruments. Yet we should try not to 
 be dependent upon these accessories, which are not always 
 in our power. Let us gradually habituate ourselves to pre- 
 serve our liberty entire, amidst the tumult of the world, and 
 outward occupations. By surrounding ourselves with facili- 
 ties for attaining self-recollection, we become much more 
 exposed to feel the effects of the distractions which may, 
 after all, occur. Besides, by multiplying precautions of 
 this kind, by shutting ourselves up in absolute isolation, by 
 too strongly concentrating ourselves within ourselves, we are 
 exposed to be carried away into vague reveries, or into the 
 excess of an exaltation, which we cannot moderate, because 
 we do not perceive it ourselves. Moreover, all this pre- 
 paration of external precaution is of little aid to those, who 
 know not how to obtain from within the proper preparation. 
 The precautions themselves often seem only to increase 
 20 
 
230 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 the trouble, because the soul retains in itself a focus of agi- 
 tations. It is in solitude that the violent passions are some- 
 times nourished. It was an army of anchorites, that, issu- 
 ing from the desert, brought disorder upon the empire of 
 Byzantium. 
 
 It is in the very sanctuary of thought, that the law of 
 silence must be especially observed. There, all objects 
 should be disposed in regular harmony ; there, freedom 
 should be entire ; there, meditation should be protected by 
 serious, but the most gentle images. If we have once suc- 
 ceeded, by these precautions and this care, in becoming 
 capable of this noble exercise, we shall know enough of 
 the art of meditation, or rather we shall learn the rest our- 
 selves. Perhaps we shall feel unexpected inspirations, much 
 more luminous than all foreign counsels. Let us trust 
 them, and afterwards consult our experience. 
 
 The first thing which this experience will teach, is, that 
 to torment or harass the mind by too numerous efforts, will 
 not produce fruitful meditations. Meditation is the mother 
 of strong thought and profound sentiment ; but both must 
 spring from our souls naturally. We may indeed favor 
 their spring, but agitation and constraint would arrest it. 
 They are the more energetic, in proportion as they are the 
 more spontaneous. The art of governing our understand- 
 ing does not consist in oppression and violence, but in a 
 wise and calm direction. Moral meditation is the soul com- 
 muning with itself. It questions itself, and then must await 
 and ponder the answer. In questioning itself, it must pre- 
 serve perfect good faith ; it must avoid imposing upon itself 
 a false answer. We only find out what we have a sincere 
 desire to know. All men have in themselves nearly the 
 same fund of primitive ideas ; they have, especially, the same 
 moral fund ; the difference which there is in men, comes 
 from the fact, that some know how to improve this fund, 
 while others neglect it. Uneasy convulsions of mind, inter- 
 rupting meditation while endeavouring to aid it, more usu- 
 
MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 231 
 
 ally take possession of those who are beginning. There is 
 nothing more difficult to comprehend, than what it is which 
 constitutes a calm activity, because there is nothing more 
 rare than to know how to restrain one's self in the midst of 
 emotion. We pass from sleep to agitation, and fall back 
 from agitation to sleep. Impatience to succeed, makes us 
 fail in the right means of success. 
 
 There is no fruitful meditation without method ; and in 
 moral meditation this method is the more necessary, because 
 thought is not supported from without, and because internal 
 agitation tends incessantly to produce vagueness and inco- 
 herence. This method, however, should not have the rigor 
 and precison of scientific processes. It would then have 
 their dryness. It must be natural and simple, in order to 
 leave reflection and the impulses of the heart free. It 
 should consist, at first, in disentangling the chaos in which 
 ideas are confounded, in order to begin to distinguish and 
 distribute them. It must especially prescribe the end of 
 meditation, for, if this is clearly conceived, views will natu- 
 rally arise from it in abundance; just as in geometry, when 
 the position of the problem is well established, the means 
 of solution rush in upon the path that is opened. Method 
 leads to the discovery of those mother thoughts, which bear 
 in their bosoms numerous germs ; it aids us to seize all rela- 
 tions, and assigns to every consideration its rank ; bringing 
 back to unity those scattered notions which are floating in 
 the intellect, assigning to them a determinate place, enlight- 
 ening them by each other, and deducing from them useful 
 consequences. One of the greatest dangers, to which we 
 are exposed, in the exercises of meditation, is to see them 
 degenerate into a vague and idle reverie. A voluptuous 
 effeminacy of soul then takes the place of the regular work 
 of reflection. We no longer meditate, we forget ourselves ; 
 we sleep ; perhaps we go astray in a false exaltation. Abys- 
 ses may then open under our feet. Whence comes this 
 danger 1 It is from our having allowed confusion, anarchy, 
 ^nd disorder to be introdAiced into these exercises, 
 
232 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Results, it is true, will not be obtained in an instant, or 
 on the first trial : there will be some irregularity in the 
 success obtained, according to the momentary and uncon- 
 trollable dispositions which we carry into these secret 
 operations. It will be, then, especially necessary to perse- 
 vere ; and this, we believe, is the third lesson we receive 
 from experience. Perseverance will gradually lead to light 
 and liberty. We must learn how to dwell upon one point 
 of view for a sufficient length of time, in order to unravel 
 all it contains. Sterility of mind is most frequently only 
 the consequence of precipitation. In moral meditations, 
 the repose which accompanies perseverance is the condition 
 of the diffusion over the heart of sentiments which flow from 
 reason. These sentiments require a certain interval of 
 peaceful contemplation, in the same manner as admiration 
 requires repose, that we may enjoy the masterpieces of the 
 fine arts. The soul requires some leisure to collect the ema- 
 nations of the good and the true, that it may taste and feed 
 upon them, and transform them into its own substance. It 
 even ought to avoid accumulating them fast, that each one 
 may be suitably enjoyed, and that it may in its develope- 
 ment acquire all the fruitfulness which belongs to it. 
 
 In short, in order that the most abundant and most wise- 
 ly directed meditation may bear its fruits, it must be suita- 
 bly summed up and converted into simple results, which 
 may remain fixed in the mind, and be applied. Method, 
 if it preside over these exercises, will render this last opera- 
 tion easy. But what will especially facilitate it, is the 
 habit of diligently applying the fruits of meditation. Con- 
 templation and action sometimes present themselves as two 
 rivals, who dispute the possession of the moral man. The 
 first finds zealous partisans among mystics, the second, 
 among the friends of humanity ; but to operate well, each 
 of these two powers has need of the assistance of the other ; 
 they fortify and regulate each other, by their alliance. 
 They mutually prepare for, correct, and test each other. 
 
MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 233 
 
 The contemplation of moral truths, if it should remain ster- 
 ile and idle, would condemn and belie itself It ought not 
 to give to virtue voluptuous Sybarites, but courageous 
 wrestlers. Understood rightly, it converts itself into practi- 
 cal applications. It thirsts for good actions, and inspires 
 the strength which they require. It delights to realize the 
 images which it has dwelt upon with rapture. 
 
 On the other hand, practice becomes, through moral 
 meditation, what experience and observation are to the 
 theories of the physical sciences, controlling, determining, 
 and circumscribing what had only been conceived perhaps 
 in a vague and incomplete manner ; calming the imagina- 
 tion, by constraining and regulating its movements ; pre- 
 venting or correcting the wanderings, which are sometimes 
 so grave and fatal, of an exaltation which was in its origin, 
 perhaps, innocent ; alone enabling us to know, whether, in 
 the contemplations that have given us so much delight, 
 truths and sentiments have really penetrated the depth of 
 our soul, and struck root. Nothing can so well remedy the 
 diseases of the heart, and prevent the access of a sombre, 
 discouraging melancholy, as the practice of duty. We 
 often find ourselves incapable of thinking and feeling. Let 
 us then act; let us do good, and our sleeping faculties will 
 awake, fall of vigor. There are, besides, in the notions of 
 duty, conditions which can only be well comprehended by 
 those who have tried to accomplish it. It is upon the solid 
 ground of practice, that we measure difficulties, discover 
 obstacles, and learn the strength and force of motives. By 
 this we succeed in knowing ourselves well, for in this we 
 prove ourselves ; and also we find preservatives against the 
 illusions of vanity, which too often are favored by contem- 
 plative habits. After having done good, we return to the 
 study of the laws of excellence with new ardor ; we bring 
 to meditation greater serenity, and reap from it the suffrage 
 of conscience. He, who is engaged in vice, perseveres 
 in it, because he has blinded himself; but he, who is en- 
 20* 
 
234 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 gaged in virtue, perseveres in it, because he becomes more 
 enlightened. He, who perseveres in vice, often mourns for 
 it, and disapproves his own weakness ; yet yields, as if 
 carried away by a mechanical and foreign force. He, who 
 perseveres in virtue, always loves it more and more, and 
 congratulates himself continually on having chosen the good 
 part. The chains of the former multiply and increase in 
 weight ; the latter gradually obtains a more perfect liberty. 
 If we reflect upon the nature of the obstacles, which re- 
 move so great a number of men from moral meditation ; we 
 shall perceive, that these obstacles do not proceed, as in 
 scientific and philosophical meditations, from the nature of 
 things ; but from their own negligence and frivolity. Moral 
 notions are not, like the speculations of science, composed 
 of those abstract deductions and vast combinations which 
 exceed the reach of ordinary minds. They are near, famil- 
 iar, simple. We are not called on to create them, we need 
 only recognise them. Moreover, we shall recognise them, 
 not by extraordinary efforts, but by self-recollection and 
 good faith. Hence it follows that no man, whatever may 
 be his condition, is really excluded from these exercises, or, 
 consequently, from the advantages they provide for our pro- 
 gress. The maxims of the early sages, which have been 
 transmitted to us by the most ancient traditions, attest that 
 in the infancy of civilization, there were profound medita- 
 tions upon the truths which relate to human destiny. We 
 sometimes meet, in the most obscure conditions of society, 
 with individuals, who, although they have little acquired 
 knowledge, have yet drawn from meditation astonishing 
 lio-ht; and who (thanks to this internal education) speak 
 the language of virtue, better than the people of the world, 
 who are so vain of their knowledge. Those simple and 
 respectable men, do not perhaps communicate their medi- 
 tations : perhaps they cannot; they have not meditated by 
 rule, and according to form ; but they have contracted the 
 habit of descending into the depths of their own hearts with 
 
MAXIMS AND RULES. 235 
 
 perfect uprightness. They have not been turned from the 
 study of themselves, by the distractions of vanity, and by 
 the tumult of the world. They have learned much in a 
 short time, under the teachings of meditation, — the great 
 instructer of men. They have learned enough to know 
 excellence, and to love it. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MAXIMS AND RULES. 
 
 * Love,' said the wise man, ' o,ncl do ivhat you will.' Hap- 
 py he who understands this wise saying ! It will preclude 
 the necessity of any other precept, for it gives the source of 
 Law : and he who has it within himself, will not only under- 
 stand the law, but possess the power of will necessary for 
 its accomplishment, rendering its execution pleasant and 
 easy. Morality is nothing but this great maxim fully devel- 
 oped and applied. But we must already have arrived at a 
 high degree of perfection to conceive its value, and to be 
 able to give ourselves up to it without danger. The neophyte 
 of virtue would only find in it the source of a presumptuous 
 illusion : extravagant minds v/ould easily find in it a pre- 
 text to justify their aberrations : men, whose morality is 
 entirely speculative, and who mistake ecstasies for virtues, 
 would think themselves authorized by it to become confirm- 
 ed in their sluggish indolence; and they would draw from 
 it food for their vanity. But if the words, ' Love, and do 
 what you will,' cannot to most men supply the place of an 
 explicit code of duties, they ought, at least, to be inscribed 
 at the head of the code ; to be repeated in every page of it ; 
 to sum it up and serve as its commentary. 
 
236 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 There is something in our intellect and in our hearts^ 
 that corresponds to the Law of Excellence. Our heart per- 
 suades us, our intellect commands us to observe it ; the latter 
 offering us the archetype of the action, and the former 
 directing us towards it as the end. The soul more fully 
 understands the law, and is more inclined to fulfill it, in pro- 
 portion as we succeed better in satisfying this double condi- 
 tion in the expression which promulgates the law. It is 
 thus that the maxim. Love, and do loliat you will, may serve 
 as a commentary on duty. The very object of the exercise 
 of meditation, is to unite these two conditions, and to give 
 the understanding of Law, by penetrating our minds with 
 Love ; thus, connecting our practice with our motives, and 
 exciting and enlightening at once that Love which is called 
 upon to accomplish it. 
 
 Indeed, the motives, which recommend the accomplish- 
 ment of duty, never present themselves in an immediate 
 and instantaneous manner, excepting when duty itself is 
 expressed under the most general form ; they become less 
 sensible in proportion as we descend to particular applica- 
 tions, and thus remove ourselves from the principle. It is 
 the part of meditation to fill up this interval, to renew the 
 chain, and to bring the primitive light of motives to the 
 most familiar applications. 
 
 As long as the expression of duty preserves that generali- 
 ty, which permits it to address itself immediately to the 
 conviction of the mind and the feelings of the heart, this 
 expression is a simple ma?:im. Y/hen, descending from this 
 generality to practice, duty is described in detail, its expres- 
 sion becomes more decidedly a rule. 
 
 We see beforehand what must be the utility and the in- 
 convenience both of maxims and rules, and how much it is 
 to be desired, for the interest of moral progress, that they 
 should be as closely connected as possible. Fundamental 
 maxims in morality have this admirable privilege, that they 
 are of themselves luminous and eloquent ; they have the 
 
MAXIMS AND RULES. 
 
 237 
 
 evidence of axioms, and are addressed to the inmost facul- 
 ties of the heart. They neither need to be justfied by a dis- 
 play of logical argument, nor aided by any oratorical arti- 
 fice. On the contrary, the more simplicity they preserve in 
 their expression, the deeper will be the conviction they pro- 
 duce. 
 
 In the midst of a collection of individuals of every rank, 
 sex, and age, having nothing in common but the general 
 qualities of the human race, but attentive, and for a moment 
 free from passion, and exempt from outward distraction, 
 let one of these eternal, universal maxims suddenly be pre- 
 sented in all its purity, as yet without any application, and 
 strong in its truth alone ; and what an echo it wakes 
 in every soul ! With what unanimous and spontaneous 
 consent it is received ! What a transport of admiration, 
 what persuasion greets it, even before reflection has been 
 able to foresee its consequences! What homage is paid 
 to it even by those who would not perhaps accept the conse- 
 quences, if they imposed any sacrifice upon them ! With 
 what a sincere and profound feeling they attach themselves 
 to it! Its triumph is the more complete, in proportion to 
 the perfect simplicity of its language, and the faithfulness 
 of its expression. Even the frivolous multitude, strangers 
 to the meditations of wisdom, when freed from the dominion 
 of their prejudices, may for a moment meet, and understand 
 the good, if thus unexpectedly called to the light of truth 
 and to natural feelings. 
 
 For the most ignorant classes of society, there are a great 
 number of apothegms, transmitted and received by univer- 
 sal consent, which exert a natural influence over men, 
 derived from the intrinsic evidence of the moral sentiment 
 which they contain. The ideas, which are thus transferred 
 into formulas, show themselves as primitive truths, which 
 are the better understood in that they are not accompanied 
 with demonstrations, and commentaries, and scholastic 
 display. This is the philosophy of the people, and its axioms 
 
238 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 sometimes contain a very deep meaning. It was the lan- 
 guage of morality with the first sages of antiquity. It was 
 the form of the codes traced for rising civilization, by the 
 Gymnosophists of Asia, the Greek Gnomics, and in the sa- 
 cred books of all nations. The image of excellence is re- 
 produced in these common maxims as in a faithful mirror ; 
 being manifested in the most natural forms, free from all 
 foreign illusions, and pure as it comes from the depth of 
 the human conscience. It is recognised, and applauded at 
 sight. 
 
 It is these primitive maxims, which give out, in solitary 
 meditation, such abundant light, and which become the 
 objects of such rapturous contemplation. These are the 
 eternal maxims, which shed so bright a glory, both when- 
 they appear in philosophical productions, and when poetry 
 or oratorical art has the happiness to seize upon them. Let 
 us always observe, that the impression they produce is so far 
 from being the effect of the artifices of style, that their sim- 
 ple presence gives to style itself its power : the impression 
 produced is always deep, in proportion as the discourse, like 
 a perfectly transparent medium, is faithful to truth. 
 
 In a word, these maxims, which express the original no- 
 tions of excellence, are, as it were, a rallying point for the 
 human race ; they are like the remembrances of a common, 
 country. When we meet with these truths, so familiar and 
 yet always so engaging, we experience a sensation like that 
 of a friend who receives a friend, or of a disciple who finds 
 his master. 
 
 But on account of this extremely general and absolute 
 character, which renders them so luminous and fruitful, 
 primitive maxims sometimes become extremely dangerous. 
 Contemplative minds entrench and shut themselves up in 
 them, so as to dispense with acting ; disdaining, perhaps, 
 in the movements of a foolish pride, the modest observances 
 of practice. Necessarily presented in an abstract form, 
 they may be wrongly understoqd 5 without applications, audi 
 
MAXIMS AND RULES. 239 
 
 adopted precipitately, they may be unseasonably invoked, 
 and be employed in a wrong way. We shall sometimes be 
 more dazzled than guided by the glory they spread around 
 them. The enthusiasm which they have the power of ex- 
 citing, will too often end by leading astray those who believe 
 they may trust to them alone. The danger will increase, 
 in proportion as those to whom they are offered are less 
 informed, less exercised in reflection, and especially as they 
 are less used to observation, and less fortified by experience. 
 Ignorance seizes with extreme eagerness upon instruments, 
 which seem to have an equally prompt and universal utility. 
 Fanaticism ardently takes possession of arms, which it can 
 so well make to serve its cause. The logic of the passions 
 has a marvellous art of drawing from the purest maxim the 
 consequences which these desire. How many of these noble 
 and true axioms we might quote, which have perhaps been 
 inscribed upon the banners that a mad crowd has followed 
 in its fury, and which, in the very midst of this strange pro- 
 fanation, were yet honestly invoked ; 
 
 Special rules and positive precepts escape such danger, 
 and even prevent it when seasonably employed, by becom- 
 ing like so many ramparts. Placed at the other extremity 
 of the chain of ideas, they always express the mode of some 
 special and precise action, and often all its circumstances of 
 time and place. They thus leave but a very limited field to 
 reflection. They extend the imperative formula to the 
 smallest details ; they foresee and mark out every thing 
 in advance. Even in that they are useful ; they offer to our 
 ever weak, uncertain, and tottering will a fixed and sure 
 support ; they mark out for it the formula for its determina- 
 tions ; they have a rigidity, which resists the changeable- 
 ness of circumstances and of our temper. Rules are all 
 stamped with the character of authority which belongs to the 
 moral law ; they instruct while commanding. Rules are 
 connected with habits ; they take their form and have their 
 tenacity. By placing themselves in certain circumstances 
 
240 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 of time and place, by taking possession of the minutest de- 
 tails, they contract a precision, a rigor, and an exactness, 
 which prevent uncertainty and hesitation ; they leave no 
 room for discussion ; they so circumscribe activity, that they 
 render error unlikely in proportion as they are wisely con- 
 ceived : thus they give extreme security to those who ob- 
 serve them. Rules for human activity are what the square 
 and compass are to the hand of the workman. 
 
 Yet, special rules, by multiplying, and descending more 
 and more to applications, and by seeking to foresee every 
 thing, contract a dryness, which ordinarily accompanies all 
 didactic preparation. Though they make the language of 
 Law understood, they have little eloquence in expressing 
 sentiment : they define better than explain, and prescribe 
 better than they persuade. They more easily seize upon 
 the external life, than penetrate into the secrets of the soul. 
 Precise and energetic, when there is occasion to forbid what 
 is evil and command what is just, their language is less 
 rich and clear, when there is need of encouraging us to 
 better things: they impose fidelity and duty more than 
 they inspire zeal for virtue. In proportion as the rule be- 
 comes more particular, it is removed farther from the com- 
 mon focus of light ; its motives become also less percepti- 
 ble ; and it then takes an appearance of arbitrariness in its 
 language. The employment of it appears more easy because 
 it is more immediate; but we comprehend it less clearly by 
 employing it. Rules sometimes favor want of reflection ; 
 we trust to them blindly ; we take little care to confine 
 them to the cases for which they have been made ; we are 
 led to grant them a greater value than they deserve ; we 
 darkly perceive the bond which exists between them, the 
 subordination they should observe, and the relations by 
 which they are modified. They become constraints rather 
 than guides. We thus in reality, impose upon ourselves 
 numerous observances, rather than exercise ourselves in real 
 virtues ; we hold to them from a kind of habit, rather than 
 
MAXIMS AND RULES. 241 
 
 from a sincere conviction. How many people would rather 
 abandon a principle of morality than the particular rule they 
 have made for themselves ! Thus the moral sentiment is 
 weakened although duties are multiplied. 
 
 Rules are very agreeable to those who love to command, 
 to judge, and condemn : we always have rules for others, 
 even when we have none for our own use. 
 
 We often place ourselves behind rules as behind a ram- 
 part, in order to defend ourselves against generous solicita- 
 tions : we find or create rules, which would render all great 
 actions impossible. 
 
 We often have rules so as to dispense with reflecting, as 
 well as to dispense with studying. 
 
 Examples explain the rule ; but it is not one example 
 only, which gives the true explanation : it may give it 
 falsely, by presenting it incomplete. A selection of examples 
 is required that it may be shown under every aspect, and 
 may be restrained within its just limits. 
 
 There are many rules which are to moral progress, what 
 scaffolding is to the construction of monuments, which, 
 though necessary while the edifice is raising, should disap- 
 pear when it is raised. 
 
 Sometimes the persons who impose upon themselves the 
 most rules, are precisely those who have the least need of 
 them ; they dictate to themselves what they have to do, when 
 they might do it naturally, from the mere impulse of their 
 heart : by wishing to foresee every thing, they take away 
 the ease necessary for acting ; they lose sight of the chief 
 end, by being absorbed in accessory means : it might be 
 said that they embrace virtue less than they have been en- 
 chained by it. 
 
 The practice of excellence ought to breathe freedom and 
 not feel constraint. 
 
 There is one rule prior to all others : it is, to rest in na- 
 ture. 
 
 21 
 
242 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 USE OF ALLEGORIES ; REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 
 
 As maxims include motives, and rules involve applica- 
 tions, the art of moral education consists in quickening and 
 enlightening rules by maxims, and giving reality and fruit- 
 fulness to maxims by means of rules. 
 
 Allegories and symbols may disguise the austerity of 
 rules, or supply the place of demonstrating their motives ; 
 and to awaken the capacity for feeling motives, or to give 
 them greater power, we may have recourse to rewards and 
 punishments. 
 
 Each of these means is good, with certain restrictions, 
 and may be usefully employed, if not abused; but they are 
 susceptible of great abuse. 
 
 Let us not scorn nor neglect any of the means adapted to 
 second the instructions of virtue, to favor our understanding 
 of them, or to render them more agreeable. Virtue has its • 
 poetry, sublime and enchanting, by which it reconciles hu- 
 manity to its culture, by which it animates and embellishes 
 our earthly existence ! The employment of allegory is a 
 useful regimen in the moral novitiate of man. The apo- 
 logue and fable were the first treatises on morality. In the 
 infancy of civilization, allegory served as the minister and in- 
 terpreter of the laws of duty, promulgating them in society, 
 instituting rites, ceremonies, emblems, and various symbols, 
 by which are painted and personified those sacred and sublime 
 ideas, which, in their purely abstract form could not have 
 been comprehended, and certainly would not have left on 
 the soul any deep impression. The learned have discover- 
 ed in the symbols of ancient worship, the expression of much 
 astronomical, agricultural, and historical knowledge ; phi- 
 losophers have discovered in them the primitive notions of 
 
ALLEGORIES. 243 
 
 morality, clothed in a costume calculated to conciliate the 
 respect of the people. Morality, no less than religion, has, 
 as it were, an external form of worship. This form consists 
 in the natural or conventional signs, which address the im- 
 agination of men, especially when they are collected togeth- 
 er ; and which awaken ideas, that may preserve the senti- 
 ments of patriotism, honor, fidelity, courage, respect: such 
 are, for example, the peculiar dress of magistrates, and the 
 standards displayed at the head of armies. And these insig- 
 nia are more powerful in proportion to their simplicity ; be- 
 cause simple forms are less liable to obscure the ideas in 
 Avhich they originated. In well governed states, where the 
 usages of antiquity have been retained, where public man- 
 ners bear the impressof past times, men breathe, walk, com- 
 municate with each other, in the midst of symbols, which 
 recall the maxims of private and public morality. So the pro 
 prieties of life are a sort of familiar language, which mani 
 fest the maxims generally recognised in society, and express, 
 besides, the formulas of customs and in external manners. 
 
 The apologue plays, in the infancy of an individual, the 
 same part as in the infancy of society. A thousand means, 
 which we know too little, and neglect too much, offer them- 
 selves to a skilful instructor, by which he may surround his 
 pupil with symbols fit to cherish moral sentiments in the 
 youthful heart. It is because the proprieties of life are too 
 Jittle cultivated in public establishments of education, that 
 there is a grossness of manners so often contracted in youth. 
 But this moral regimen of allegories, which is intended to 
 second the authority of maxims, may be exaggerated and 
 abused. It is intended as a preparation for early youth, to 
 enlighten its ignorance and sustain its feebleness ; but it 
 may be prolonged till it makes the mind puerile. There is 
 0, time when emblems should give place to truth in its own 
 imposing majesty and naked simplicity. The habit of always 
 seeing truth in emblematic figures, would produce ener- 
 yatioa of mind, apd |;he sternness and gravity of duty would 
 
244 SELF-EDUCATIUN. 
 
 not be fully conceived and felt. Sometimes it has been the 
 case, that habit has degenerated into superstition, and the 
 symbol has practically occupied the rank due only to the ideas 
 represented. So, also, do we not see people become really 
 mean, in order to obtain the insignia of honor 1 Allegories 
 also have a disadvantage peculiar to themselves. Vivid im- 
 ages give vague and incomplete definitions, that only approx- 
 imate the meaning, and consequently often favor error, be- 
 side exciting imagination and giving scope to the illusions 
 of mental rashness. Thus morality, vi^hich ought to have its 
 root in reality, and only needs to be revived now and then 
 by the inspiring breath of poetry, neglects the practice of 
 positive duties, and excuses itself for culpable negligence by 
 the worship it renders to the ideal of virtue, in reveries full 
 of beauty. 
 
 There are certain times, in some countries, when moral 
 sentiment seems to be exhausted ; ancient symbols lose their 
 magical power ; and tradition, despoiled of its charms, be- 
 gins to weary the mind. Then moral truths, if offered in 
 their simplicity, experience a cold reception, and are accus- 
 ed of being trite and superannuated. Men are fatigued 
 at always returning to them, and finding them eternally the 
 same: they wish them to be made new. It is necessary, 
 in order to satisfy a frivolous and foolish public, to invent 
 various and artificial combinations, by means of which they 
 may attract attention and reanimate interest : it is necessa- 
 ry to bring to their aid all the resources of the dramatic 
 art: truth must have an ingenious setting forth, its charac- 
 ter be disguised, and a sort of an apology made for it ; and 
 instruction must come with an agreeable air, as if it wished 
 to please. This is a shameful slavery from which the minis- 
 ters of morality should hasten to make it free ; and from 
 which it would not hesitate to free itself, if the ambition of 
 vanity did not conspire with the indifference of the public. 
 Let us brave the disdain of a world avaricious of pleasure, 
 and not condemn virtue to blush for itself. Instead of solicit- 
 
ALLEGORIES. 245 
 
 ing the suffrages of the vulgar by a cowardly adulation, le 
 us speak with a just and severe authority, with the authori- 
 ty which we receive from our commission. Let us present 
 the holy maxims of excellence, clothed in simplicity, and 
 express with dignity the freedom which profound conviction 
 inspires. Let us not despair of our age, but afford by the 
 simplicity of our discourse a pledge of esteem to our audi- 
 tors. We shall find auditors alive to this testimony and 
 capable of answering to it. 
 
 The employment of rewards and punishments, if under- 
 stood, has a much more direct analogy than one would 
 think, with the employment of allegorical signs. For re- 
 wards and punishments are essentially destined to recall and 
 make to be felt the laws of duty, and to give life to the motives 
 which justify them. In order that they may be useful, they 
 should be limited to this : it is a sad mistake when they 
 come to take the place of the motives themselves. All the 
 morality of human actions is destroyed, its vital principle, at 
 least, is destroyed, in its original source, if we conceive only 
 of good as an action rewarded, of evil as an action punished. 
 It is then personal interest alone, in all its nakedness, that 
 usurps the seat of virtue, even in the accomplishment of 
 what virtue prescribes. There is no longer good nor evil, 
 merit nor demerit ; but only a desire of enjoying, a fear of 
 suffering, — a calculation of interest : the good man is only 
 the most skilful calculator. There is no longer morality 
 or justice, but only a vile selfishness reigning in different 
 forms, accompanied by its two odious ministers, avarice and 
 fear. When this is so, let the terms punishment and rec- 
 ompense be employed no longer ; for the ideas they ex- 
 press have disappeared : nothing is left but a bargain between 
 him who commands, and him who obeys in order to obtain 
 or to avoid something, or disobeys if he can obtain some- 
 thing better. He only merits rewards, who would have done 
 his duty in the face of persecution ; and he deserves punish- 
 21* 
 
246 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 ment who has abstained from evil merely to avoid pain, but 
 owns the intention of it in his heart. 
 
 Nothing, therefore, can be more fatal than a system of 
 rewards and punishments, so combined that remuneration 
 takes the place of moral sentiment, and becomes the only 
 motive of determination. It is the object of morality to 
 repress the blind desire of enjoyment, and arm the soul with 
 a courageous resistance against pain and danger. But this 
 sytem both intoxicates and degrades the mind ; — intoxicates 
 the mind, by making all-availing the hope of recompense 
 which it promises ; — degrades it, by giving new power to the 
 apprehension of punishment. As soon as there is nothing 
 acknowledged beyond, in reward and punishment, all the 
 means of obtaining the one and avoiding the other will be 
 sought and found out; and at less expense than at the sac- 
 rifice of personal inclinations. Success, v/hen obtained, 
 will produce greater faithfulness to this instruction ; and 
 where there is ability and audacity, fortunate and powerful 
 villany may be the result. And why would not this be hon- 
 orable ? The external advantage is obtained in which all 
 merit consists. Precisely the effect that despotism produces 
 on the general character of a people, the caprices of an 
 instructer produce on the character of a pupil. Punish- 
 ments and rewards become arbitrary, and take the place of 
 law and duty. The sentiment of justice, if it resists the in- 
 fluence of false instruction, revolts against the employment 
 of a force that favors some and oppresses others ; so that 
 men, if they are not degraded, resist, and resist even what 
 is good in itself, because, they have conceived it as an odi- 
 ous yoke. Thus every generous movement is stifled in its 
 principle, or else directed against the authority, which has 
 misconceived its vocation and abused its power. 
 
 And this effect, which results absolutely from punish- 
 ments and rewards, which are arbitrary, takes place also 
 in a degree, when rewards and punishments are dispropor- 
 tionate to the real merit and demerit of the actions. 
 
ALLEGORIES. 247 
 
 But if the employment of rewards and punishments is so 
 conceived, that they both serve to bring the mind and heart 
 to the knowledge of the sentiment of duty, they become an 
 energetic language, a mode of instruction which is salutary, 
 in proportion as, instead of violating the notions of duty, it 
 makes them more palpable. This end may be obtained, if 
 an exact relation is observed between the real merit of ac- 
 tions, and their recompense ; and if the selection of rewards 
 and punishments preserves analogy with the moral notions 
 whose awakening they should favor. Rewards and punish- 
 ments, borrowed from the pleasures and pains of the senses, 
 are the least proper to fulfill this destination. It is to be 
 feared, that they favor the inclinations of sensuality, rather 
 than enliven the love of virtue. Solitude, on the contrary, 
 when used as punishment, disposes to contemplation, and 
 through contemplation to reflection; and labor gives me- 
 thodical and regular habits. Testimonies of esteem, how- 
 ever, are the best modes of remuneration ; for by these, 
 merit and demerit take a sensible form, which renders the 
 notions, on which they are founded, more deep, and the 
 remembrance of them more durable. When we behold a 
 crime, or a noble action, a natural emotion makes us ex- 
 press a wish to see the one chastised and the other reward- 
 ed : the same emotion carries us from the consequence 
 to the principle, from the application to the rule, if indeed 
 any evident connexion subsists between them. There is 
 no one, who, in retracing the recollections of youth, does 
 not recognise, that if on some occasions an unexpected re- 
 ward has nourished vanity, and an arbitrary punishment in 
 other instances has irritated his character, yet on some oc- 
 casions, a punishment, of which we perceived the justice, 
 and a reward, which was merited, have given to the sen- 
 timent of duty great power : the former, by lending to duty 
 a severer language, which roused repentance ; the latter 
 by giving to it joyousness ; both giving to it a solemnity 
 which takes frivolty captive, a seriousness which ripens rea- 
 son. 
 
248 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 This serious and solemn, though silent language, destined 
 to repress too ardent passions and encourage yet feeble vir- 
 tues, suits particularly well the moral youth of man ; and 
 yet, at this time, it is not well comprehended. Indeed, 
 when it is well understood, it is generally least necessary. 
 
 But the views which ought to guide the instructer and 
 legislator, in the creation of a system of rewards and pun- 
 ishments, are those which ought to guide us in self-educa- 
 tion, in the choice of the motives we are to draw from the 
 anticipation of rewards and punishments. We must look 
 on them as a kind of language, and avoid the gross error 
 of taking them as principles of determination. We must 
 seek them as a support, not as a yoke. This truth is sus- 
 ceptible of great developement, and should be a subject of 
 much thought. To conclude : — allegories and symbols, 
 as well as the influence of rewards and punishments, are 
 useful as long as they accompany, comment upon, and sec- 
 ond the direct teaching of moral truths; but they will be- 
 come fatal when they pretend to supply their place. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 
 
 Although it may not be granted to man to attain per- 
 fection, it is his destiny to direct himself towards it, and td 
 approach it without ceasing. It is by this characteristic' 
 trait that we recognise the noble and elevated. Their eyes 
 are ever directed upward ; their march is constantly pro- 
 gressive ; they have before them an indefinite career. Thus 
 they preserve an immortal youth, and their life is animated 
 by a powerful interest, and embellished by a high hope. 
 
 It is the characteristic of mediocrity in morals, as well 
 as in the arts, to be satisfied with itself, and to see nothing 
 
TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 249 
 
 beyond its own narrow limits. Troubled by the presence 
 of what is superior, and alarmed by counsels which excite 
 to progress, vulgar souls seek security in inaction, felicity 
 in torpor ; having a thousand pretexts for forbidding them«- 
 selves all progress that would be accompanied with an ef- 
 fort. Sometimes they even affect a sort of disdain for what 
 is distinguished, in order to console their vanity, while 
 yielding to their effeminacy. They have genius only to 
 conceive impossibilities, eloquence only to celebrate obsta- 
 cles, and they profess a sort of worship for limitations. The 
 stationary condition, in the eyes of certain people, is the 
 ideal of prudence and wisdom. They confound immobility 
 with perseverance ; condemn all progress as temerity ; all 
 hope as an illusion. Thus they establish, shut up, and im- 
 prison themselves, in an existence in some sort entirely 
 mechanical, in which the only reason for acting, is to con- 
 tinue what they have begun to do, in which they confirm 
 and encourage themselves in their errors, faults, and weak- 
 nesses, as if an irrevocable sentence had condemned them 
 never to be free. Thus every thing is cooled, coagulated, 
 paralysed : man passes as it were into ths fossil state ; the 
 very good he does, loses its charm ; habits take the place 
 of sentiments ; routine dispenses with resolutions. 
 
 Men, thus carried on without acting, turn constantly in 
 the same circle, and feel no need of motives. But though 
 we think to remain stationary in morals, there is no moral 
 condition really so ; and he who does not advance, goes 
 back ; for every day brings with it losses, which demand 
 to be compensated by acquisitions ; and we can only be 
 supported by a spirit of life, which tends to constant regen- 
 eration. Indifference is certain failure. As the learned 
 man when he learns no more, already forgets, so when men 
 continue to act externally in the same manner, but no longer 
 continue to carry the same sentiment into their actions, with 
 sirriilar conduct, they no longer have the same merit. Let 
 us examine this treaty, which we form with moral medioc- 
 
250 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 rity, and ask ourselves what we do; what we mean; what 
 we expect; what idea we have conceived of our destiny; 
 whether we have a destiny ; whether we feel within us a 
 voice which invites us to self-esteem, and calls upon us 
 to grow and become more elevated. We think ourselves 
 estimable. We are regular, perhaps, but we are not truly 
 virtuous. We imprudently think to enjoy security. If 
 new circumstances occur, what guide will direct us? If 
 unforeseen difficulties spring up in our path, how shall we 
 know how to conquer them 1 May God preserve us from 
 the great vicissitudes of fate, from strong temptations and 
 perilous situations ! 
 
 The Love of Excellence cannot be subjected thus to a 
 rigorous and fixed measurement : it is in its nature active, 
 expansive, thirsting for conquests. To declare that we 
 have prescribed limits, which we will not overpass, is to 
 confess that we do not feel for excellence true love: it is 
 contradicting ourselves. To declare that we will stop at a 
 given point in the career, is to confess that we have not 
 known the true motives, which should alreg,dy have Jedi 
 even to that point; if they had been understood and feltj wq 
 should be impelled to pass beyond it. 
 
 Far from being frightened at this tendency to the best, 
 as at an excessive fatigue, we should soon acknowledge, 
 from our own experience, that the practice of duty becomes 
 more easy and pleasant, in proportion as we advance towards 
 excellence. For that inward peace, which is the fruit of 
 virtuous habits and the sweet privilege of innocence of hearty 
 is in its turn most favorable to our knowing, feeling, and 
 practising all that is excellent. It is tQ the cowardly 
 and lukewarm that duty becomes a yoke. Such is the closa 
 relation which exists among all the virtues, that each of 
 them in proportion as it is acquired, invites and calls upou 
 its companions, and lends them its support. Progress itself 
 also preserves in the heart of man an inexpressible jqy aqd 
 hilarity, which redouble' his strength, dispose him for new 
 
TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 251 
 
 undertakings, and aid him in their accomplishment. It is 
 in the monotony of an existence without an aim, that we 
 find lassitude. The activity of an existence consecrated to 
 the search after excellence, finds in itself its encouragement 
 and reward. The higher a man rises into moral regions, 
 the more he sees his horizon extend : from the summits 
 which rise before him, come at once strength and light. 
 
 Great things are never accomplished without the passions; 
 but it is only one passion which gives the means of executing 
 them, certainly, completely, and constantly ; the passion for 
 Excellence. The tendency to the best, is to virtue, what 
 the spirit of invention is to the arts. 
 
 There has been much dispute upon the questions which 
 appertain to the ideal, and upon the part" which it has in 
 human operations ; and as it almost always happens, these 
 discussions have perhaps thickened the clouds, instead of 
 dissipating them. The ideal has been opposed to the real : 
 hence the disdain of some men for the instructions of expe- 
 rience, and the reproaches made by others to all which bears 
 the character of improvement, as if improvement were a vain 
 chimera. But the ideal, conceived in its true nature, is not 
 at war with the real ; it is related to it by a double alliance ; 
 it borrows from it elements ; it calls upon it ; it is instructed 
 by it ; it serves to elaborate it. 
 
 To all active, intelligent, and free beings, copies and 
 models are necessary, in which the action is sketched be- 
 forehand ; and Avithout which the action itself would be 
 impossible. If what is to be done has already been done 
 by another agent in the presence of him who is about to 
 repeat it, the model is an object of the senses ; it is perceiv' 
 ed, and not conceived. But the novelty of situations, 
 brought about by the continual change of circumstances, 
 would alone be sufficient to require a great number of oper- 
 ations, which have not, in actual reality, any model abso- 
 lutely similar. There are then also copies and types, exist- 
 ing as yet only in the region of ideas, and which are the 
 
252 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 anticipated image of the act to be produced. In the simple' 
 mechanical arts we may make the same remark and the 
 same distinction ; the workman sometimes copies a work 
 which he has before his eyes ; sometimes he conceives the 
 image of an instrument or production which has not yet been 
 executed. In the arts, which we call the imitative arts, 
 there are also models drawn from observation, and models 
 which are truly archetypes : however, these last have two 
 conditions ; they are obliged to draw from real nature the 
 elements of their combinations ; and they must conform to 
 certain rules of proportion, suitableness, and probability, 
 revealed tons by the sentiment of the beautiful, itself in- 
 spired by nature, and carefully taught us by numerous and 
 luminous examples in the works of nature. Under the in- 
 spiration of this sentiment, the imitative arts take from real 
 objects, various beauties, choose from among them, and 
 form new combinations : and an image of the whole, intel- 
 lectually constructed, becomes the archetype of the execu- 
 tion. If the imitative arts were deprived of this second 
 order of models, they would confine themselves to simple 
 descriptions, and execute only cold copies ; on the contrary, 
 by the aid of this second order of models, they call moral 
 nature to their assistance, combining its phenomena with 
 those of sensible nature ; and the effects obtained become 
 the more admirable, because by borrowing from these two 
 regions of nature, what is most eminent in each, they have 
 known better how to preserve the most perfect union and the 
 closest sympathy between the elements drawn from both. 
 The positive sciences offer us something similar. They have 
 their direct observations, which collect and register facts as 
 they present themselves ; they have also their experiments, 
 the idea of which is a pure conception, and by the aid of 
 which they interrogate nature, and extract from it new phe- 
 nomena. It is to these happy experiments that the most 
 precious discoveries are owing. Mathematics are in rela- 
 tion to mechanics and other branches of physics, a vast 
 
TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 253 
 
 collection of copies and archetypes, which go before facts, 
 preside over applications, and represent them in the 
 thoughts, constituting the ideal of science. Legislation and 
 policy, supported upon history, upon the knowledge of the 
 human heart, upon the data of local circumstances, trace 
 out, to those who govern human affairs, the preconception 
 of the directions they are to prescribe to themselves; and, 
 to the citizen, those rules of conduct which are written in 
 codes. A code of laws is a collection of archetypes, pre- 
 sented to society, for those actions which embrace the dif- 
 ferent relations of men to each other. Morality in its turn 
 has served as a copy and archetype to the political legisla- 
 tor. Surely there is nothing more real, nothing better 
 founded upon nature ; for morality is only the supreme voice 
 of nature, in the heart of man, announcing to him his des- 
 tination. Conscience recognises, it does not create moral- 
 ity. The rules it has established are produced spontane- 
 ously, in view of applications either realized or simply 
 conceived. But it is in the power of thought to conceive 
 beforehand the image of a multitude of possible actions : to 
 each of these the established rules adapt themselves ; the 
 fitness, more or less entire, which is found to exist between 
 the rules and actions, will compose copies from them, more 
 or less complete. The combination which would involve the 
 highest degree of fitness, would be the archetype of perfec- 
 tion for human nature. This ideal, the genius of virtue 
 seeks. The good man, when aspiring to the best, does 
 nothing but repeat, in morals, what takes place every day 
 in the domain of the arts and sciences, in the most simple 
 actions of life, and what determines the merit and utility of 
 the operations accomplished in these different careers. The 
 ideal is to him of the same nature, though in a higher 
 region : it is no longer fancied or chimerical : it is only 
 more excellent than fact, because it corresponds to what is 
 most eminent in the character of humanity. This active and 
 persevering tendency towards the best, however wise it may 
 22 
 
254 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 be in its principle, has however many secret dangers to avoid. 
 The first and greatest of all, is that blind and measureless 
 exaltation, which steals from us the feeling of our own weak- 
 ness ; and which, while hurrj^ing us towards the phantom 
 of ideal perfection, leaves us really unable to accomplish 
 the good which is found within our reach. Let the impulse 
 by which we are animated be ardent, certainly, let it be 
 constant, and indefatigable ; but let it never be unquiet, 
 and then it will sustain itself. Let it not even be impatient. 
 It is a great act of resignation for a soul kindled by zeal for 
 virtue, to consent to acknowledge and suffer the inevitable 
 slowness of progress, and to carry to the end of life the 
 weight of its own imperfections : but this act of resignation 
 is necessary ; it is imposed by the condition of humanity : 
 it can alone preserve to us the calmness necessary to see 
 well the path which opens before us, and to walk in it with 
 a sure step. Let there be a just elevation in the views which 
 guide us ! But let them not be lost in the clouds ! Let 
 them not be vague and indefinite, as we too often observe 
 among those, who, while devoting themselves to excellence, 
 confide more in inward sentiments than in positive rules ! 
 It happens, then, that the sentiment itself evaporates, and 
 becomes lost in speculations purely theoretical, instead of 
 being converted into positive applications. The imagina- 
 tion, in sweet and sublime ecstasies, feeds upon the most 
 exciting prospects ; but the life receives but little influence 
 from them : this sentiment becomes a poetry, which charms 
 the leisure of idleness ; it is no longer an instrument for 
 conduct. 
 
 Lastly, and above all, this tendency must not be given 
 up to chance. In the grand work of our amelioration, as 
 in all work, method is the fundamental condition of success. 
 For advancement in excellence, there is a way traced out 
 by prudence, an important and difficult art, which comports 
 little with general and absolute rules, because it is modified 
 for every one by his own individual dispositions. 
 
TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 255 
 
 We will begin with what is' most easy ; nothing is more 
 prudent and natural. But we will not put off too long at- 
 tempting also what is difficult ; for we gain strength only 
 by struggling against difficulties. Let us beware of flying 
 from them ; let us only take care to graduate them. 
 
 We will begin by satisfying precise and rigorous obliga- 
 tions, before proceeding to works of pure supererogation ; 
 but let us not forbid ourselves to listen also to the generous 
 inspirations, which sometimes invite us to pass beyond the 
 strict line of duty ! Often, in accomplishing a noble action, 
 we obtain new strength to obey positive precepts : love dis- 
 poses to respect, beneficence is an aid to justice. 
 
 We will heg'm by exercising ourselves in the virtues 
 which are of most immediate and frequent application. 
 These are the most necessary ; they are also those which 
 make themselves best understood and felt, and which bring 
 with them most powerful encouragements, because we best 
 see their results and taste their rewards. It is easy to ro- 
 mance upon virtues, which we shall have no occasion to 
 apply, and to draw from thence a pretext for neglecting 
 those, the daily practice of which is demanded of us : this 
 manner of making ourselves virtuous hypothetically, flatters 
 at once our idleness and our vanity ; but it deceives the 
 wish for improvement, it enervates its principle. Let us 
 then apply ourselves to the duties which belong most pecu- 
 liarly to our calling, to our situation in life ; duties more 
 familiar and less brilliant, but more favorable to our im- 
 provement, precisely because they have less attraction for 
 self-love. This shows a new and admirable value in those 
 family duties, with which Providence has strewed the whole 
 course of our lives; as if to give a value to each of our mo- 
 ments, as if to consecrate our most habitual and intimate 
 relations, as if to change home into a sanctuary of virtue ! 
 
 There are virtues which may be called mother-virtues , 
 because they are as it were the main branch of a great num- 
 ber of others ; such are, for example, gratitude and justice. 
 
256 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Let these, then, be the first objects of our ambition and 
 efforts : we shall draw from them, beforehand, an under- 
 standing and taste for those which are subordinate to them: 
 we shall better penetrate into the principles and motives 
 which should lead us to excellence : we shall better feel by 
 what secret ties our duties are connected together : we shall 
 judge better the rank they hold in regard to each other. 
 
 There are virtues, which are like so many sisters, and 
 which lend each other mutual assistance : it will be easy for 
 us to pass from one to the other. Sometimes also it is use- 
 ful to cultivate at the same time virtues which seem to have 
 almost opposite characters ; they serve to circumscribe and 
 balance each other : we avoid falling into the excess of too 
 exclusive habits; we better preserve the harmony of the 
 moral faculties. It is thus that the rules of gymnastics 
 combine the exercise, which require at once several kinds 
 of motions, in order that the organs may be developed in 
 harmony, and that no one may obtain exuberant vigor at 
 the expense of the others. 
 
 There are virtues which may be considered as instrumen- 
 tal, that is to say, which furnish general means, by the aid 
 of which others may afterwards be practised ; such are, for 
 example, patience and obedience : we should take care to 
 furnish ourselves with these beforehand, as much as possi- 
 ble, in order to come armed upon the theatre of the combat, 
 or the field oflabor. 
 
 We should confine ourselves to removing obstacles before 
 we hurry towards the end. We should take precautions 
 against danger before we launch into bold undertakings : 
 we should repair our losses before we aspire after new ac- 
 quisitions. 
 
 In every thing, and this is one of the fundamental max- 
 ims upon which reposes the whole system of progressive 
 amelioration, we should study ourselves, in order to pene- 
 trate the true principles which are to be the motives of our 
 duties, as well as those which lead us to recognise the origi- 
 
TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 257 
 
 ^al source of them ; for it is by meditating upon these prin- 
 ciples, that we shall discover the relations which exist be- 
 tween the virtues, that we shall ourselves obtain the senti- 
 ments which, being common to them all, lead from the prac- 
 tice of one to the practice of the others. Details become 
 easy to him who has seized the whole. Little things also 
 have their relative importance, and may even receive a more 
 considerable one, under a certain concurrence of circum- 
 stances. The elevated have to defend themselves from a 
 negligence that is sometimes excessive, in regard to these 
 observances of detail. They excuse themselves too easily 
 for the little attention they pay to them. Pride may find, 
 in this disdain, a secret aliment. It is never allowable to 
 attribute to ourselves a moral superiority, which may au- 
 thorize voluntary failings, however trifling they may appear. 
 The reflection which recognises and confesses them as vol- 
 untary, aggravates them ; forgetfulness would have been a 
 trifle, but aflfected negligence is a real fault. Besides, little 
 things have sometimes extensive consequences, which can- 
 not be foreseen, particularly in our relations with other men ; 
 a slight imprudence may inflict a deep wound, and cause a 
 great disaster. The observance of little things alone gives 
 to the work of virtue, as to the productions of the arts, that 
 consistent and finished character, which becomes its princi- 
 pal and chief ornament : it is to virtue what grace is to the 
 arts. The observance of little things invokes the sacred 
 and tutelar presence of duty to all the moments of our lives : 
 it animates and fills with its influences the whole atmosphere 
 which we breathe. It has the advantage of makinor us run 
 over a variety of objects, of making us perceive all their 
 aspects, and thus lending a happy fruitfulness to moral no- 
 tions. There is also a sort of elevation in knowing how to 
 preserve a just respect for what is good, even when its image 
 is reproduced in a more narrow scene, in knowing how to 
 respect ourselves in the most modest and obscure observances, 
 provided they are in the established order, and in carrying 
 22* 
 
358 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 noble motives even into the least occasions. In short, by 
 giving to little things the degree of interest which is due to 
 them, we preserve a salutary activity. They are sports, if 
 we please, but useful, honorable sports : we shall have the 
 happiness of leaving no void, no failure in the labor of moral 
 activity : we shall prepare ourselves gradually for the most 
 difficult things : we shall have the merit of having conquer- 
 ed a difficulty, in binding ourselves to remark and execute 
 what might have escaped attention ; but, above all, we shall 
 find ourselves naturally led to the continuance of useful 
 vigilance over ourselves, and in this single result we shall 
 find an indirect and unexpected preservative against a 
 crowd of dangers of another kind, which might have been 
 more or less serious. The observances of detail are as it 
 were sentinels, scattered here and there, to keep us awake, 
 and warn us incessantly that in the career of moral amelior- 
 ation we are not permitted to taste the repose of idleness 
 and lethargy. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 HOW TO ACQUIRE AND PRESERVE SELF-GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Man is born sovereign of himself; but, to enter upon the 
 possession of this magnificent gift of Providence, he must 
 first feel his right of sovereignty; and secondly, know the 
 means of exercising his power. But this twofold discovery 
 is slow, and obtained only with difficulty, for it depends 
 upon a study, which is usually our last study ; that of self. 
 Many men descend to the tomb almost without having sus- 
 pected this most noble prerogative of their nature. If, as 
 we think we have shown, and as we shall take occasion to 
 repeat, self-government is a tutelary law, and not a capri- 
 
SELF-GOVERNMENT. 259 
 
 cious force; if it must be exercised in a wise restraint, in 
 an enlightened direction, it requires as its preliminary con- 
 dition, that man, in his self-communion, should have, above 
 all, a familiar knowledge of himself; that he should know 
 how to question, to answer, and to comprehend himself. 
 He must have attentively observed the springs applied to 
 his disposition, the wants which he has to satisfy, the obsta- 
 cles he has to surmount, the dangers he has to avoid, the 
 resources he can bring to his aid, and the cautions which 
 he should observe. He must know himself, as an instructor 
 must know his pupil, as a workman must know the material 
 upon which he labors, and the instrument which he employs. 
 Thus he may learn to guide himself, — which is the true 
 way to command himself; thus he may obtain his own con- 
 fidence in sincere and assiduous self-communion. He will 
 also learn to foresee and to provide ; to impose upon him- 
 self only what he is capable of executing, but to require of 
 himself all of which he is indeed capable. He will even 
 know how to tolerate and to pardon himself, when it is 
 necessary, not through a weak complaisance, but with 
 mingled indulgence and severity. He will know how to 
 raise himself, to guard himself from discouragement, as well 
 as from rashness : sparing himself useless efforts, he will 
 thus facilitate useful ones. 
 
 Watchfulness must carry on and preserve the work which 
 study of self has begun. Like an active sentinel, our eyes 
 must be constantly open, not only upon what happens with- 
 out, but upon what passes within. We must observe in 
 their origin the secret movements of the heart, in order to 
 encourage or check them according to necessity : we must 
 assign the precise measure which they must not exceed ; 
 taking precautions not only against attack, but also against 
 surprise ; and as there is no surprise more dangerous than that 
 which borrows the charm of pleasure, we must not only be 
 warned of what may wound, but of what may seduce us : 
 we shall thus be preserved from the yoke most difficult to 
 
260 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 shake off, — from the yoke we have voluntarily accepted^ 
 This watchfulness, it is true, sometimes is wearied, discon- 
 certed, and distracted , and is apt to fail, precisely at the 
 moment when it is most necessary. It must then be perse- 
 vering : but let it not be restless, agitated, and ferocious ,■ 
 let it be exercised in a gentle, equable, and uniform manner* 
 Let the soul act toward itself, not as an inquisitor, but as a 
 witness and confidant; then self-contemplation will be ex- 
 ercised with less effort. Let us also avoid as much as pos- 
 sible hurrying ourselves into the tumult of distractions ; 
 let us avoid too rapid and sudden changes of situation ; 
 and let us redouble our attention, when we enter upon a 
 new and unknown situation. 
 
 One of the greatest difficulties in the exercise of self-gov'- 
 ernment, arises from the singular inequalities sometimes 
 experienced in the mental states. We cannot count upon 
 ourselves : the state of things upon which we had regulated 
 ourselves, sometimes appears so changed, that all our meas- 
 ures are found defective ; the resources, which offered them- 
 selves to us when we enjoyed serenity, fail us in agitation;: 
 the prospects of the practice of excellence, which smiled 
 upon us with so many charms, during the course of a peace- 
 ful meditation, only discover to us, at other moments, a 
 barren country where we perceive nothing but weariness 
 to be endured. The more we are inclined to exaltation, 
 the more frequent and perceptible these variations become : 
 but self-knowledge and inward vigilance sometimes bring 
 us back to our level ; the remembrance of past states leads 
 us to anticipate those which will come. As in serene and 
 prosperous days we view ourselves with too blind a confidence, 
 so in cloudy days we are guided and supported by the image 
 of happier times. A man governs himself with more ease 
 in proportion as he is consistent, just as he governs other 
 men with more ease for the same reason. 
 
 However, the prudence of the most consummate wisdom 
 is not sufficient for self-government. The exercise of this 
 
SELF-GOVERNMENT. 261 
 
 authority often demands a suitable firmness; and though this 
 firmness should be used with reserve, we should be capable 
 of employing it when necessary. When the storm growls 
 around us, and bursts ; when the tempest increases and 
 invades the soul, and all is confusion, our skill is no longer 
 sufficient ; we have need of all our intrepidity : the enemy 
 assails us on all sides : the inclinations which we condem, 
 urge us on, and hurry us away, in spite of ourselves, by 
 their impetuosity and violence. Neophytes of virtue, how 
 could we think ourselves safe ? Called to an open struggle, 
 safety rests only in courage. What now is the part of man ? 
 He must he a man ! he must do a difficult but an indispen- 
 sable thing ; he must exercise his will freely, decidedly, 
 perseveringly. It might be dangerous, in moral adoles- 
 cence, to be called to the exercise of our own will, while 
 it still wants energy and life; for man, when inexperienced, 
 although thinking to exercise his will, often submits to the 
 yoke of his inclinations, or to the will of another. But we 
 cannot too soon exercise our will, after we are capable of it. 
 This education of the will requires a just independence, 
 gradually obtained and wisely circumscribed. We cannot 
 become men under a prolonged tutelage : and the habit of 
 subjection renders us unskilful in the exercise of our own 
 will. We are like a slave who thinks himself emancipated, 
 when he has only changed his master ; though perhaps he 
 has given himself a harder one than he had before. 
 
 It is more important, and unfortunately more difficult, to 
 maintain a just correspondence between the energy of our 
 will and the extent of our knowledge. If, when the equili- 
 brium is lost, the will prevails, we experience only the ir- 
 regularity of a force which hurries it on at random ; it can- 
 not fail to be enslaved, unknown to itself, having no longer 
 any regulator. If the equilibrium is lost in the contrary 
 way, we lose ourselves in an idle contemplation, in which 
 we despair in view of an end we have not strength to at- 
 tain ; the strength which still remains, becoming useless in a 
 
262 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 career so disproportionate. But though inexperience is impa- 
 tient to act, experience often leads to indecision. It happens 
 then that we ourselves contribute to break this necessary 
 equilibrium, by wishing to act before we are enlightened, and 
 by being discouraged when we are instructed. The real pow- 
 er of the v/ill is in that of reason. Do not let us confound the 
 transports of desire with the determinations of the will ; the 
 former have usually an impetuosity so much the greater as 
 we are not in view of obstacles ; and this impetuosity 
 deceives us with regard to the resources we shall find in 
 ourselves at the decisive moment. Presumption is the 
 daughter of Exaggeration, as well as the mother of Impru- 
 dence. If we have counted too much upon our will, it will 
 fail us at the decisive moment, and break in the trial. 
 There is, however, an art, and it is the art of wisdom, which 
 calls knowledge to the assistance of the will, and converts 
 it into real strength. To what does the education of the 
 will belong, if not to reason ? Would we learn to exercise 
 our will with firmness 1 Let us know first how to conceive 
 and adopt sincere and profound convictions. Nothing gives 
 us decision and support like truth. Let us know how to 
 confide in the strength which Providence has provided for 
 us. It is proportioned to our task ; but let us not embrace 
 beforehand, by a rash foresight, the whole extent of the 
 efforts which will be demanded of us : they are not to be 
 the work of a single day. When this salutary equilibrium 
 is maintained, knowledge, prudently directed, instead of over- 
 flowing into the field of impossibility, is circumscribed in the 
 sphere of the possible, diffusing itself more abundantly there ; 
 and reason rests upon the alliance of practice and theory, 
 experience and principles. Thus is composed for every 
 one a sort of relative science, in which the information col- 
 lected is naturally found in harmony with the efforts which 
 are demanded of the character, and in which knowledge 
 turns entirely to the profit of action. The judgments of 
 reason have in themselves something grave and solemn, 
 
SELF-GOVERNMENT. 263 
 
 which operates at once as a restraint and a support. The 
 voice of reason, penetrating the soul, preserves it in our 
 esteem, and suggests to it a confidence, which is always 
 an element of strength. The will, while collecting the 
 emanations of reason, insensibly contracts something of 
 that fixedness and immutability, peculiar to the truths by 
 which reason is nourished, and thus receives from them a 
 natural vigor, more durable in proportion as it is more calm. 
 But reason never exercises these salutary influences with 
 more success than when it is the interpreter of duty ; then, 
 to the dignity and stability of truth is united a power still 
 more active; the imperative form which the injunctions of 
 duty take, becomes a spring ever ready to second the reso- 
 lutions of the will. There is in the focus of conscience a 
 secret and concentrated heat, which reanimates the heart, 
 as soon as we approach it. The reflective feeling of duty 
 is to the will, what the points of support are to mechani- 
 cal force. Passionate men may have impetuosity and vehe- 
 mence, like the gigantic and convulsive strength of a sick 
 man in delirium ; but it is only when man is penetrated with 
 his duty, that he has a firm, equal, and constant will. Ob- 
 stinacy is inflexible, but inflexibility is not constancy ; 
 for a wise and reasonable constancy will bend to the modi- 
 fications required by the varieties of circumstances. Con- 
 stancy is immutable in principle, flexible in application ; 
 while obstinacy is capricious and arbitrary in its very im- 
 mobility, for it refuses to follow the natural course of things. 
 To renounce a resolution, which is acknowledged to be 
 erroneous, or which is no longer adapted to a new situation, 
 is to respect one's self, and to exercise self-government. 
 
 There are then two chief ways of obtaining and preserv- 
 ing inward^ i^piVjC ; the habit of observing, and the habit of 
 conquering;y;^urselves. Every concession which we make 
 to effeminacy, to cowardice, to negligence, to discourage- 
 ment, in the ordinary course of life, is an abdication of our 
 sovereignty ; and we shall find it an impediment to our 
 efforts, when we attempt to recover ourselves. 
 
264 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Difficulties, which we think external, are in reality, if 
 they can be surmounted, only the difficulties which we find 
 in ourselves. For instance, the difficulty of study arises 
 from the weakness of our attention; the difficulty of a peri- 
 lous undertaking is the want of the courage which it de- 
 mands ; the difficulty of labor is the want of the persever- 
 ance it requires. It is always ourselves who are insuffi- 
 cient ; and we often find ourselves so, only because we dare 
 not attempt all that we are capable of A salutary pre- 
 paration, then, for acquiring self-government, is to exercise 
 ourselves in struggling against the obstacles, and conquer- 
 ing the difficulties, which present themselves in external 
 life. Men who are in the habit of triumphing over difficul- 
 ties, are the only men who become truly distinguished, as 
 they alone discover how much they are truly capable of, and 
 take entire possession of their faculties. But to succeed, 
 it is necessary to take care not to hurry blindly into underta- 
 kings above our strength. It is necessary, as in gymnastic 
 exercises, to graduate our effi)rts ; to try by degrees ; to 
 attempt undertakings just above those we have been accus- 
 tomed to execute. But in casting our eyes upon the world, 
 we are surprised to see, on one side, so many people who 
 dare not do what they can; and on the other, so many at- 
 tempting what they cannot do. 
 
 We may remark, that when the government of ourselves 
 escapes us, it is almost always because we have allowed 
 ourselves to be concentrated upon the present moment, and 
 upon some exclusive impression, which invests us on all 
 sides. It is very useful then, in order to preserve our lib- 
 erty, and the integrity of our strength, to preserve extensive 
 and constant communication, in the past and the future, 
 with all that may ofier an alliance to the will ; we thus 
 oppose to the predominent impression, the recollections or 
 anticipations proper to balance it; we preserve its authority, 
 by maintaining an equilibrium of resistance. Elevation of 
 sentiments and ideas is of great advantage in self-government. 
 
SELF-GOVERNMENT. 265 
 
 The soul, in order to reign, must sit as it were upon a 
 throne, from whose height its eye may extend far into space 
 and time. 
 
 Men, who are without affections, sometimes seem to be 
 distinguished for their self-government; they are at least 
 habitually tranquil. Yet, if an inclination of personal inter- 
 est awakes in them with impetuosity, a precious auxiliary is 
 wanting. Such men are most easily carried away. Thus, 
 we shall preserve so much the better the power of modera- 
 ting an affection, which might be inclined to pass its just lim- 
 its, by opposing to it more just affections. False minds are 
 those which have a single idea ; wandering souls are those 
 which yield to a single motive of action. Sound minds and 
 free souls range through a variety of ideas and motives. 
 
 Two principal means contribute to the education of the 
 moral power of Self-government ; order and calmness. They 
 are closely allied. In a confusion of ideas and feelings, 
 the government of ourselves infallibly escapes us ; we no 
 longer see the end ; we no longer know where to find the 
 means ; we can hardly recognise ourselves. In the midst 
 of order the direction may be marked; in the bosom of 
 calmness the faculties may preserve all their freshness, and 
 strength all its liberty. Even when order and calmness 
 reign around us, we begin to reap from them a beneficent 
 influence. Melody, sympathy, all that transmits to us the 
 sweet impressions of harmony, give to our faculties a begin- 
 ning of independence. We have from that time a confused 
 sentiment of our power and dignity ; we feel ourselves 
 capable of greater things, because we acquire the conscious- 
 ness of our free will. It is necessary, it is true, to possess 
 already some power over ourselves, that we may fulfill this 
 double condition ; but it will be the first employment we 
 should make of it, because it will prepare for all the others. 
 The sculptors of antiquity usually represented heroes in the 
 attitude of repose ; they found in calmness the loftiest ex- 
 pression of true force. 
 23 
 
^66 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Besides, the care which procures a habit of order and 
 calmness, consists generally in foresight and detail, and 
 does not always require energetic efforts. It is a daily regi- 
 men, and partly a favor of nature, which only needs to be 
 preserved. Although we feel the storm ready to burst, 
 although we perceive the dark cloud in the horizon, by re- 
 doubling our vigilance, we may still attach ourselves to the 
 maintenance of order and calmness. Every thing is lost, 
 the instant anarchy is introduced within ; while all the 
 means of resistance and safety remain to us, if we avoid 
 agitation. Sometimes, when the tempest exercises its rava- 
 ges with extreme violence, it is prudent and wise to content 
 ourselves with furling the sails, remaining as it were inac- 
 tive, and mere witnesses of what is passing within us, not 
 approving it, but not hazarding open combat, and waiting 
 patiently till the storm is appeased. It is enough not to 
 yield, and to remain motionless. 
 
 One cause which most frequently prevents us from enjoy- 
 ing the power we might obtain over ourselves, is a sort of 
 terror we conceive of it, as if it were to impose upon us too 
 much restraint, and too painful sacrifices. We hope at 
 least to taste a sort of repose, by giving ourselves up to im- 
 pulse, and by abandoning ourselves to the current in the 
 river of life. This is because we have a false idea of Self- 
 government. We have thought it a tyrant, which would 
 torment our existence; a sort of continual torture. If we 
 dared to make use of it, we should soon perceive that it is 
 liberty itself, that it is the only principle of true secu- 
 rity. If it demands some inward combats, it is to prevent 
 shocks a thousand times more painful ; if it requires the 
 vigilance and fatigue of the pilot, it is to prevent the ship 
 from breaking against the rocks. The education which 
 developes and cultivates this great moral power, has doubt- 
 less some hard and painful exercises ; it demands the 
 sweat of the brow, but it is not exempt from charms ; it has 
 its pleasures, manly and profonnd ; it alone can render us 
 
STUDY OF SELF. 267 
 
 capable of tasting true repose ; for there is no real repose, 
 but that which follows and rewards labor. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OP THE DIFFICULTIES WE MEET WITH IN THE STUDY OF SELF. 
 
 If we only considered how near and intimate is the sub- 
 ject of the study of self, we might suppose that of all studies 
 it would be the most easy. And since it carries us back to the 
 object of our most lively affections, we might think it would 
 be most agreeable, and that we should proceed to it by a 
 natural impulse. Yet it is precisely the contrary. 
 
 Philosophers have vied with each other in recommending 
 to us the study of ourselves, us the first and most essential 
 introduction to wisdom. But who has taught us how to 
 attain this knowledge, and to triumph over the obstacles that 
 we may meet with? 
 
 Some obstacles arise from the very nature of things, some 
 from the conditions of our faculties ; and all the causes, 
 which ever lead us to error, act with their highest degree 
 of influence on this subject : and as if it were not enough 
 that we may be deceived in so many ways, we often take 
 pleasure in self-deception ; ourselves spreading the snares, 
 and too often succeeding in surprising ourselves. 
 
 When the imagination seeks to lead us astray in judg- 
 ments relative to external facts, there remain to us means of 
 verification, in some sort material, upon the theatre of this 
 same external reality, of which it has presented to us an 
 unfaithful picture : the image and the reality are situated in 
 two different regions : we may oppose them to each other. 
 But in the study of ourselves, the image and the reality are 
 placad in the same region : they touch and are confounded. 
 
268 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 One takes the place of the other. Sometimes we seem for 
 a moment to be what we desire to be ; at other times, we 
 seem to be what we fear we may become : our fears and 
 our hopes pass from the future into the present; we think 
 we can do all that we conceive. This is why enthusiastic 
 people are so strangely deluded about themselves, and all in 
 such good faith. The idea which they contemplate and 
 embrace with such lively ardor is embodied in their eyes; 
 they give it an existence ; they personify it ; they persuade 
 themselves, in good faith, that they are in immediate rela- 
 tion with it : the poem which charms them becomes to them 
 a history, — their own history. They see, or think they see 
 themselves in the pictures which are their work : they think 
 they see themselves act in the phantoms they have created 
 and put in motion. 
 
 Will not temper, also, which so changes the aspects of 
 external objects, give its peculiar expression to our own 
 countenance ; and if it can render us sad and joyous, how 
 will it be prevented from creating causes of sadness and joy, 
 in the world within, where it has sway ? 
 
 If there are no subjects on which we are more exposed to 
 error than those upon which we have some partiality, what 
 will not be the danger in a study whose subject interests us 
 more than any other in the world? Who can remain 
 an indifferent and passive spectator of what is passing 
 within himself? Who, having to judge himself, will not 
 take his cause in hand, and be his own advocate rather than 
 his ov/n judge ? 
 
 It is often the case that the things which we perceive least 
 accurately, are those which are most familiar to us, and 
 which compose our ordinary routine ; they do not arrest our 
 attention or excite our wonder : what is permanent, we for- 
 get; we only remark its absence, if it happens to be want- 
 ing ; such is the case with all that enters into the system of 
 our habits ; now, is there any thing more familiar to us than 
 ourselves 1 This is the reason why so many people live without 
 
STUDY OP SELF. 269 
 
 suspecting that they are in their own society ; at least they 
 only pay attention to it, if this moral self, their companion, 
 experiences some accident or transformation which may 
 excite surprise and give notice of its presence. 
 
 We are full of mysteries: we have both inclinations and 
 faculties which we do not suspect, till an unforeseen circum- 
 stance points them out. We contain in ourselves the most 
 manifest contradictions. The most subtle motives are often 
 those which influence our determinations most; they envel- 
 ope our will as with a kind of invisible net-work. We may 
 feel what we possess, but we do not see what we want. The 
 less progress we make, the less we discover what is still 
 wanting ; the more we lose, the more we become incapable 
 of appreciating the value of our losses. But can we even 
 truly estimate what we possess, if we do not know what we 
 want? 
 
 Shall we invoke the experience of the past, which can 
 alone enable us to observe the present state rightly ? But, 
 that the past may be well understood, it is necessary that it 
 should have been well observed. When the issue of our 
 undertakings enlightens us, it is generally too late to correct 
 ourselves. Childhood does not observe at all ; youth ob- 
 serves superficially ; when maturity arrives, it is late to be- 
 gin the investigation. When will the application of experi- 
 ence begin? Besides, there are so many ways of explaining 
 want of success, shall we be likely to choose that which 
 would reveal to us our faults? 
 
 Shall we call to our aid comparisons ? for in effect we only 
 judge truly by comparing. But in comparing ourselves with 
 others, rivalry troubles our vision ; the presence of our supe- 
 riors humbles us ; that of inferiors puffs us up : in the same 
 manner as we are deceived in judging others by ourselves, 
 we are also often deceived in judging ourselves by others, 
 Hence rash emulation and unskilful imitations. 
 
 Shall we examine ourselves in profound silence and calm- 
 ness? Doubtless such is the condition necessary for a true 
 23* 
 
270 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 self-examination. Yet on the contrary it is precisely at the 
 moment of action that it would be useful to consider our- 
 selves with attention; for then our faculties are in play; it 
 is on occasions that we really measure our strength, for 
 occasion brings with it unexpected resources or obstacles. 
 The evils we most feared, the blessings we desired with 
 most ardor, are often those which appear the least, when 
 they come : the dangers by which we were the least alarmed 
 become the most serious. The solitary man thinks he 
 knows himself, but he only knows what he is in solitude ; 
 and he can foresee less than any other man, what he will 
 become in a sphere of activity. We only discern what we 
 are in the presence of objects, and then they attract us : 
 we must see out of and beyond ourselves, in order to act. 
 In proportion as passion is more violent, it is the more 
 necessary to observe its transports, but at the same time it 
 is so much the more difficult. Shall we invoke the testimo- 
 ny of other men? Supposing that they say exactly what 
 they think, still, some will exaggerate the good in us, 
 through affection or from policy : others the evil from ani- 
 mosity or envy. 
 
 The only instrument which we can use for this study, 
 reflection, is an instrument which wants fixedness and pre- 
 cision ; it slips away, vacillates, is fatigued, shakes and 
 trembles in the hand that employs it, and escapes inces- 
 santly. 
 
 Besides, if we concentrate ourselves too much upon our- 
 selves, we end by seeing nothing, or by seeing all that we 
 wish too see. There are abysses, in which we may lose 
 ourselves. 
 
 Do we succeed in taking ourselves captive sufficiently to 
 make correct observations 1 Already, by that very process, 
 an observable change has taken place in our internal 
 state. The personage we thought to seize upon and ob- 
 serve, is concealed ; he has already disappeared. We judge 
 ourselves more soundly when the moment of action has passed 
 by. 
 
STUDY OF SELF, 271 
 
 And our inward state is not only complex, it is also ex- 
 tremely changeable. It is necessary that the investigating 
 eye should follow it perseveringly through all its phases. 
 In this continual change, which moment shall we choose, 
 to serve as a rule to our judgment, and to give us an exact 
 idea of ourselves? The crisis of exaltation and of discour- 
 agement, whose testimony is the most unfaithful, have pre- 
 cisely this character, that each of them envelopes us in an 
 atmosphere peculiar to itself, represents things as if they 
 were to last such as they are now, makes us forget the past, 
 and takes possession exclusively of the future. 
 
 In the medley caused by the influences which come to us 
 from without, and the reaction which proceeds from within, 
 we can hardly distinguish what is derived from these two 
 sources. The more we are subjected to external influences, 
 the more unable are we to measure what belongs to them. 
 
 In the same manner as vulgar prejudice transfers to 
 bodies the colors which affect our eye, the soul refers to ob- 
 jects its own peculiar modifications ; we attribute, then, to 
 circumstances, what belongs to ourselves. Sometimes on 
 the contrary, there are movements within us which are 
 transmitted to us, but of which we suppose the cause is in 
 ourselves. We think things impossible, because we have not 
 dared to attempt them ; we think ourselves capable, because 
 we have been assisted. Like the navigator who thinks the 
 shore of the river moves, — when we change, we think the 
 world changes. We take borrowed qualities for elements 
 of our character ; we take habits we have contracted, for 
 a condition inherent in our nature ; we attribute to our 
 faculties what is due to instruments and circumstances; 
 we judge of all situations by those which are known to us. 
 And even when we succeed in remarking effects, we in a 
 thousand Vv^ays mistake their causes. 
 
 Such are the difficulties, but only in part, for the more 
 we study, the more of them we discover. But we have 
 supposed a sincere wish to know ourselves. What if this 
 
272 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 wish itself fails ? Where are those in whom it is found 
 really entire 1 It is not merely that through frivolity, igno- 
 rance, or dissipation, we appear indifferent to the acquisi- 
 tion of this fundamental knowledge ; it is not merely that 
 we neglect it, that we even avoid to cultivate it, concealing 
 ourselves from our own eyes, and flying from ourselves, as 
 if we feared our own society, and dared not expose ourselves 
 to our own investigations ; often, we go so far as to use 
 artifices to surprise ourselves, and to appear to our own 
 eyes otherwise than as we are. Sometimes this is to flatter 
 or excuse our inclinations ; sometimes to please our own 
 self-love and our pride ; sometimes from cowardice ; some- 
 times from all these motives together. When the question 
 is to satisfy ambition or presumptuous desires, we wish to 
 suppose ourselves strong. We no longer confess our strength,, 
 when there is a difficult duty to fulfill. We exaggerate in our- 
 selves the qualities which appear meritorious. We put out 
 of sight those which, by offering a natural assistance, would 
 diminish the merit of our efforts. Is it not from this last 
 reason, for instance, that every one accuses himself of want 
 of memory, while no one accuses himself of want of judg- 
 ment? Selfishness wishes to deck its idol. Sensuality wish- 
 es to repose, consequently to justify itself; it even wishes to 
 exalt itself in its own eyes, to think itself less gross than it 
 really is, in order to enjoy still more. We can with diffi- 
 culty confess our faults to other men, and we do not like to 
 confess them to ourselves ; our own censure would touch 
 us more nearly, and pursue us more constantly. Vanity 
 and self-love cannot consent to recognise themselves in the 
 movements they inspire; for in recognising themselves they 
 would be humiliated; they would contradict themselves. 
 Since they are only a weakness of character, they must 
 disguise themselves, in order to succeed in preserving 
 that distinguished attitude to which they pretend. Often, 
 while seeking to show ourselves to other men under the 
 most favorable point of view, in order to obtain their 
 
STUDY OF SELF. 273 
 
 approbation or their good will, we may be so penetrated by 
 the part we play, as to finish by thinking it serious, and to 
 fall into the mistake we have prepared for others ; like an 
 actor who should continue to play the comedy alone on his 
 own account. Enthusiastic persons, after having begun 
 to deceive themselves with the utmost sincerity always 
 end by deceiving themselves intentionally. All exaltation, 
 changeable in its nature, has intervals of relaxation ; and 
 when the exaggeration is calmed, the enthusiastic wish 
 still to support the same character; they are not willing to 
 agree that they are no longer the same ; they compose for 
 themselves a factitious exaltation ; they remove every thing 
 which might trouble it; they especially fear a ray of light; 
 they condemn themselves to a sort of charlatanry towards 
 themselves, and become their own dupes. Something sim- 
 ilar may also happen to those who confine their morality to 
 speculative contemplations ; they would be troubled in their 
 ecstacies by the recollection of their real life, for they are 
 too little in unison with their sublime theories. It is neces- 
 sary then to find a way to interpret their motives, that their 
 actions may no longer offer so shocking a contradiction : 
 they persuade themselves that the conceptions of the mind 
 have real root in the soul, and reconcile the two personages 
 who mutually give each other the lie : this reconciliation 
 consists in outward signs and words, and one of these 
 two personages deceives the other. 
 
 We have a thousand stratagems by which to succeed in 
 these fatal combinations. We put on all sorts of masks to 
 deceive ourselves. We are singularly favored, in these 
 artifices, by the numerous obstacles which naturally render 
 the study of self so difficult. We point out often with rare 
 skill the kind of analogy which is found between certain 
 good qualities and the faults which correspond to them ; and 
 as the latter are only the excess of the former, and belong 
 originally to the same generating principle, we shall easily 
 succeed in deluding ourselves with regard to the limit that 
 
274 SELF-EDUCATION, 
 
 separates them. But nothing favors more the illusions 
 which lead us astray in the study of ourselves, whether they 
 are 'sincere, or arise from our own bad faith, than the mix- 
 ture and confusion which we allow to come into the motives 
 of our conduct. If we have complicated intentions, we may 
 give our actions any explanation, even to ourselves ; for 
 there are laudable aims, side by side with those we do not 
 like to confess to ourselves. A confusion of sentiments and 
 ideas throws a profound obscurity over all within : in this 
 darkness we see whatever we desire to see; we create a 
 romance upon ourselves ; we want the means of comparing 
 it with reality, and consequently of recognising what is 
 only pure romance. Besides, the more agreeable it is, the 
 more we love to believe it ; and we always end by believing 
 what we desire. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES THAT MAY BE DRAWN FROM OUR OWN FAULTS* 
 
 Every thing may contribute to our progress, even the 
 faults which seem to keep us back ; and of all our means 
 of progress, these may become the most useful, since the 
 occasions are so constant and general. 
 
 The best men do not escape certain anomalies of charac- 
 ter and certain inequalities of disposition : perhaps the most 
 distinguished men are the most exposed to these, as they 
 possess the most eminent qualities. 
 
 Sometimes the extraordinary flight, which some one of 
 the faculties of the heart or mind takes, breaks the equilib- 
 rium which ought to reign among them ; sometimes the 
 consciousness they have of their intentions, or the feeling 
 they have of their strength, inspires in them a too blind 
 
OUR FAULTS. 
 
 275 
 
 confidence; sometimes they go beyond the end, in aban- 
 doning themselves, without reserve and without measure, to 
 a movement honorable in its principle ; sometimes their 
 attention, absorbed by the efforts which difficult enterprises 
 require, neglects to keep watch on other circumstances; 
 sometimes they think they may allow themselves some neg- 
 ligences, as a sort of indemnity for their sacrifices ; and they 
 believe themselves authorized to be less severe upon them- 
 selves, on account of the merits they have acquired. 
 
 All of us experience more or less, and suffer from,, these 
 vicissitudes. Sometimes we ourselves change, without be- 
 ing able to account for it ; sometimes we can go forward 
 naturally and without effort ; sometimes we are drawn away 
 to what is evil, in spite of ourselves. Holy inspirations come 
 and go with the rapidity of light : the soul is elevated, and 
 falls down ; wakes up and sleeps again , is kindled by the 
 brightness of excellence, is exhausted by too prolonged con- 
 templation. We are subject, as it were, to various internal 
 maladies, during which we can hardly recognise ourselves; 
 then our views are agitated, and our sensibility appears 
 extinguished. The more we have tasted of elevated things, 
 the more we are discouraged by these failures. To form 
 resolutions ; to break or forget them ; to conceive noble 
 hopes ; to be beaten down in courage ; to experience gen- 
 erous sentiments ; to yield to childish weakness ; to project, 
 to essay, to fail, to be discouraged, to experience regret; — 
 is not this an abridged history of our life 1 or if we attain 
 to a fixed and stable disposition, does it not become the 
 blind routine of habit, or the effeminate inactivity of indif- 
 ference? We escape error, only by renouncing progress ; 
 and changes, only by falling into inertia. 
 
 Sometimes the circumstances which are around us, exer- 
 cise, by turns, contrary influences. Not being prepared 
 to receive or repulse these different influences, — we are 
 surprised and disconcerted by the unlooked for changes 
 which work around us : we no longer resist the impulses 
 
276 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 which are given to us : we vary with the objects which act 
 upon us ; yet believe ourselves always to be the same, 
 because we continue in our effeminacy and our negligence. 
 Thus we find few sustained characters ; and a man entirely 
 consistent, is the most rare thing in the world. Men, 
 judged on the whole, are neither so good nor so wicked as 
 they appear. We only see men in some particular aspect. 
 We do not suppose the same individual can contradict him- 
 self. We reason from what we have seen in him, as to what 
 we are yet to observe. Hence so many differing and oppos- 
 ing judgments are made of the same man. Each spectator 
 judges according to the side presented to himself. 
 
 Now the illusion which a spectator experiences, we expe- 
 rience in judging of ourselves. Exposed to constant oscilla- 
 tion, we cannot measure ourselves, and are not aware, to 
 what degrees we rise and fall. In each aspect of ourselves 
 we almost believe we occupy a fixed post : we lose the 
 memory of the past : we believe we can count upon the future. 
 Hence the ordinary causes of our faults; hence the princi- 
 pal use which we can draw from our faults. 
 
 Unfortunately the feeling of these faults, when we do 
 recognise them, produces upon us generally an effect very 
 different from that which ought to attend them. We do not 
 do evil for evil's sake ; but when we do evil, we exclude the 
 image of good, lest it should importune us : we are agitated ; 
 disorder enters into the mind and heart; having given up 
 to weakness, we become more feeble for falling ; being car- 
 ried away, we are intoxicated and lose the sense of propor- 
 tion. If we cannot acknov/ledge ourselves guilty, we falsify 
 conscience ; if we do recognise ourselves culpable, we be- 
 come accustomed to the idea of our faults, and consent to 
 be culpable, and are in danger of degrading ourselves. 
 
 But let us stop before we fall into this abyss. Let us take 
 care, above all things, not to let a first fault act upon us like 
 an engagement ; let us take ©are not to live associated with 
 our fault without disavowing it, — nor to accept stains upon 
 
OUR FAULTS. 277 
 
 our character, nor inward shame, the most ignominious of 
 all shame. A fault is a little thing, if the character still 
 preserves vitality. It is indeed unfortunate, that a severe 
 world often overwhelms without pity, by an irrevocable de- 
 cree, those who have failed. It puts on them the seal of 
 hopeless reprobation. In taking away the hope of reinstate- 
 ment, it condemns the guilty to persevere in dishonoring 
 themselves forever; it excites them to render themselves 
 despicable; it seems to say to them, ''Vice is your lot 
 and heritage." Yet the world which pronounces such a 
 proscription, is the same world which holds in its bosom so 
 much unheard of crime, and which sometimes can excuse 
 so easily, can praise extravagantly, can flatter, and which 
 even prescribes great violations of duty, if they be surround- 
 ed with brilliancy, followed by success, or conformed to 
 prejudice. Perhaps the wretch, who is proscribed, is, not- 
 withstanding his fault, less corrupt than his judges. Hap- 
 py are those compassionate beings who bring aid to the 
 most real of misfortunes ; who stretch out their hands to 
 the falling; who, by testifying their solicitude, give a pledge 
 to them of the return of esteem ! True physicians of the 
 soul ! who do not wound again the wounded, but cure them ; 
 who give to them hope, as a means of cure ; who, strong 
 in their own virtue, do not fear to show themselves indul- 
 gent; and who, by a well understood indulgence, open the 
 way of repentance. Thanks be rendered to religious doc- 
 trines, which hold open constantly to the repentant the doors 
 of the sanctuary of virtue, which restore in the eyes of the 
 Supreme Judge those who have been wounded by the ca- 
 pricious opinion of men ! Vincent de Paule is still greater 
 in the prison of galley-slaves, than in the hospitals and at the 
 cradle of the foundlings. 
 
 Those who enter the career of excellence, after havinor 
 rushed upon it with ardor, are often discouraged on finding 
 how feeble they are. They believed themselves in full pos- 
 session of that virtue which they worshp, and they find 
 24 
 
2^8 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 themselves giving up to the faults which they condemn ; — 
 they are afflicted ; they ask themselves if this pure ardor by 
 which they were animated was not itself an illusion ; they 
 dare not count upon themselves; they become timid and 
 lukewarm, and are checked. Those who are advanced in 
 the career of excellence are often astonished that they must 
 struggle with adversaries, and see them reappear after hav- 
 ing been once vanquished. Discovering every day new 
 imperfections in themselves, because they see better, both 
 what they ought to be and what tliey are, they suffer them- 
 selves to give up to lassitude and sadness. The experience 
 of our faults, if we know how to consult it, always brings us 
 valuable knowledge and new strength. It is a great, difficult, 
 but salutary instruction, which initiates us into the knowl- 
 edge of ourselves; — it is a warning which calls us to an 
 active and continual vigilance; it shows us the weak places 
 in our character, and the external dangers which threaten 
 us most ; it makes us perceive whither the declivity on 
 which we slide, will conduct us, if we allow ourselves to be 
 hurried away. We may thus draw from one error the pre- 
 servative against others, more numerous and greater ; — we 
 are preserved also from another kind of error, not less fatal, 
 which springs out of rash presumption and false security : 
 it marks for us the degrees of the arc which we describe in 
 the mournful oscillations to which our changeableness con- 
 demns us ; it marks also the points on which we fail, through 
 impotence or cowardice, and those on which we go to ex- 
 cess, through exaggeration or impetuosity : it makes us 
 self-collected : it invites us to serious reflections : it leads 
 us to recognise the causes and consequences of our deter- 
 minations, and the different influences to which they are 
 subjected : it exercises us in a severe and earnest contest 
 with ourselves : it dissipates a kind of illusions, which es- 
 pecially lead us astray, those of vanity. 
 
 And since it dissipates the illusions with which vanity 
 surrounds us, the experience of our faults makes us free, 
 
OUR FAULTS. 279 
 
 through the censorship which it leads us to exercise upon 
 ourselves. The condemnation, which we pronounce against 
 ourselves, demands a courage Avhich renders all other cour- 
 age more easy ; it requires a sacrifice of self-love, that 
 which, of all others, is often the most difficult, and generally 
 is the last to which we resign ourselves. The sincere man 
 experiences a much more lively horror for what is evil^when 
 that which is evil has invaded some portion of himself: 
 when he feels himself sullied by its presence, he perceives 
 more evidently every thing that there is in a violation of 
 duty at war with the condition of his existence and the 
 order of his faculties, and he rejects this fatal anomaly with 
 so much the more energy, as he feels himself more nearly 
 touched. He finds, also, that virtue, after having been an 
 instant obscured by a cloud, rises to his eyes with a more 
 glorious majesty, having laid aside the veil which had cov- 
 ered it. The traveller, distant for a time from his country, 
 finds it more beautiful than ever, when he again comes to 
 his native shore. Reconciliation gives a new power to ties 
 which were broken for a moment : the river rushes on 
 with redoubled impetuosity when the obstacle which arrested 
 its course has disappeared. We have seen passionate or 
 frivolous men suddenly arrested in their wanderings and 
 dissipation, by the sense of a fault committed ; and brought 
 back, through meditation, to grave and serious habits. We 
 have seen great criminals, delivered by a sudden revolution 
 from habits of crime, give themselves to excellence with a 
 zeal and courage unknown to other men, — finding in the 
 remembrance of their past excesses the most powerful spur 
 to carry them on in their progress. There is, in truth, a 
 profound and sincere sentiment in repentance ; it freshens 
 all the springs of the soul ; it gives an insatiable desire to 
 grow better. Sickness does not aspire more eagerly after 
 health, than repentance aspires after virtue ; it is an exile 
 who longs for his native land ; it is an orphan inquiring for 
 his mother. 
 
280 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 If we can rise up so nobly out of crime, if we can go forth 
 so much the more animatedly to do good, shall we hesitate 
 to shake off the yoke of little weaknesses, and draw advan- 
 tage from the faults of every day 't Two primary conditions 
 are necessary for this, it is true; — it is necessary candidly 
 to acknowledge to ourselves the fault committed ; it is 
 necessary to retract, to expiate it, not by a speculative dis- 
 avowal, exempt from effort and pain, but by a resolution of 
 the will, which already repairs, because it engages to repair 
 the fault effectively whenever the occasion offers. It is 
 necessary also, above all, to soothe the internal agitation, 
 which accompanies the fault, and is redoubled when it is 
 recognised. Let us not be deceived about this: in the sad 
 impression which this recognition gives us, there is some- 
 thing more than regret and remorse , there is a cuting pain 
 of self-love wounded in one of its most sensitive points, and 
 constrained to give up apart of its dearest pretensions: 
 we are not only discontented with ourselves, but humiliated; 
 and though we blame the fault we have committed, we are 
 irritated to find ourselves fallen, — This is what we must 
 first remedy. We must tai?e away from the principle of re- 
 pentance all that can adulterate its purity and freedom. 
 Then its just bitterness will soon be converted into sweet- 
 ness, and an unknown peace will rise up from the bosom 
 of trouble. — We should taste, if we may so speak, the joys 
 of moral convalesence. This inward, solitary, assiduous 
 labor, which consists in repairing incessantly, and reestab- 
 lishinsr order in ourselves, has somethincr much less attrac- 
 tive, it is true, than the progressive movement towards im- 
 provement : it is the long fatigue to which we are condemn- 
 ed here below ; but it has a peculiar merit, precisely because 
 its exercises have fewer charms, its effects less brilliancy. 
 The necessity we are under of recommending this work 
 without cessation, like the web of Penelope, and our want 
 of power to free ourselves from the tribute we pay, every 
 day, to the weakness of our nature, are among the trials to 
 
t)UR FAULTS. 281 
 
 which virtue is subjected here below, by Providence. Vir- 
 tue finds occasion to apply in this case a kind of patience 
 which makes our very imperfection a means of progress ; 
 for it accustoms us to recognise and accept the limits 
 of our earthly condition ; it gives us a more forcible pre- 
 sentiment also of the future destiny which is at last to re- 
 move the limits, which virtue has struggled against so perse- 
 veringly, and has pushed against without having been able 
 to break. 
 
 The world holds of so little account the secret struggles 
 of virtue in inward reformation, that it often appreciates nat- 
 ural qualities above those which cost so much. It is per- 
 haps because men do not believe firmly in virtue, that they 
 cannot give entire confidence to the solidity of the reforma- 
 tion which is its work. 
 
 We draw more advantage from the faults committed by 
 the excess and abuse of an estimable quality, than from those 
 which follow feebleness and impotence : we raise ourselves 
 with more difficulty from those which degrade us, than from 
 those which only lead us astray : we have most difficulty in 
 repairing those which have been committed with reflection. 
 Those which repentance most rarely eff'aces, are those which 
 bear the characteristic of a cold calculation of self-interest ; 
 those which are the most irremediable, are those by which 
 we have lied to ourselves. 
 
 We sometimes defend ourselves in the faults committed 
 in the presence of witnesses : self-love comes to our aid, 
 and prolongs, aggravates, and renders them fruitful : it not 
 only puts an obstacle in the way of our acknowledging 
 them, but it gives birth to the more fatal fault of being satis- 
 fied with ourselves. It is thus that we are more evil dispos- 
 ed towards those whom we have oflfended, than towards 
 those who have off'ended us; — we hate them for the evil 
 we have done them. Self-love and vanity are the principal 
 obstacles which prevent us from profiting from the exposure 
 24* 
 
283 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 of our faults ; and of all the damage which they cause us, 
 this is not the least. 
 
 In this portion of self-education, of which the object is, to 
 make the experience which has cost us so dear, at least 
 fruitful, our first care should be directed towards attacking 
 self-love and vanity, as the two guardians which, placed in 
 advance of our faults, would protect, hide, defend, perhaps 
 even flatter them. 
 
 We often find honest people who have the happiness of 
 hardly ever failing, who conform themselves tranquilly to the 
 principal precepts of virtue, who pay respect to prohibitions, 
 who especially never go astray by excess of generous affec- 
 tions. They live according to rule, but their life is nearly 
 barren in excellence; they are stationary, immovable, satis- 
 fied with themselves ; they sleep, and are astonished to hear 
 it said how difficult is the practice of virtue. They rather 
 practise it as a trade, than embrace it as a vocation, like the 
 subaltern ministers of the temple, who wander with a cold 
 eye around the altar of sacrifice, doing their mechanical office, 
 astonished at the rapture and piety of the faithful: — it is 
 true that he who sleeps does not sin. The honest people of 
 whom we speak would be fortunate, perhaps, if some fault 
 could one day draw them from their drowsiness, give them 
 through repentance a more vigorous nature, disabuse them 
 of the security, the pride, perhaps, which they feel in their 
 moral mediocrity, and inspire them at length with the 
 thought and desire of becoming better. 
 
 The experience of our faults is a luminous introduction to 
 the knowledge of mankind, and also to the science which 
 has for its object the conduct of life. It is the education 
 of benevolence ; it makes us cherish more ardently the 
 communion of the good ; it makes us better support com- 
 munion with the imperfect : the sentiment of our imperfec- 
 tions brings us more near to them, disposes us to the affec- 
 tions we ought to bear to them, inspires us with condescen- 
 sion, and obtains for us, in return, a confidence more entire, 
 
OUR FAULTS. 
 
 on their part. When, pursued with regret for a fault com- 
 mitted, we have the happiness of meeting with a being 
 touched by adversity, and have the power of assisting him, it 
 seems as if our conscience were solaced, that we have found 
 the means of reconciling ourselves again with duty. The 
 consolations, which we can thus open to others, soothe our 
 inward pains ; the tears of gratitude, that fall upon us, heal 
 our sick hearts of their wounds : — acts of charity are a 
 beautiful and sweet expiation. 
 
 Of all the exercises of generosity, the most noble, the 
 most extended, the most difficult, is that which carries to 
 men useful assistance in moral maladies. But what physi- 
 cian will give useful directions, if not he who has himself 
 experienced the evils he seeks to cure ? From the remem- 
 brance of our faults we draw the most efficacious counsels, 
 and find the secret of that language which may make them 
 understood by others. 
 
SECTION II. 
 
 DISCIPLINE OF EXTERNAL CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 
 
 Man continually receives influences from men and things, 
 favorable or unfavorable to his moral progress : and self- 
 education should not only consist in internal discipline, but 
 should modify these external influences, either in them- 
 selves, or in their efl"ects. The latter is especially necessa- 
 ry ; for it is not always possible to change circumstances 
 themselves, but the impressions which we receive are always 
 in our power. We may prevent or throw off" their injurious 
 effects, or gather up and preserve the assistance they offer. 
 
 It is important, in this external education of ourselves, 
 to distinguish what is really in our power, from what is ab- 
 solutely independent of our eflTorts ; and afterwards, to study 
 the means of using well, and with eff*ect, what power we 
 have. Outward circumstances tend to develope both the 
 Love of excellence and Self-goverment ; therefore it is neces- 
 sary, in surveying our outward circumstances, to observe this 
 twofold result. Example offers to us the first and perhaps 
 the most important of influences. 
 
 There is a singular analogy between the laws which gov- 
 ern the instinct of imitation, and those which govern habit. 
 We do the actions we see others do, easily and promptly, 
 without feeling it necessary to combine the plan or conceive 
 
IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 285 
 
 the motives, the instinct of imitation taking place of reflec- 
 tion and will ; and more than this, it becomes even a virant 
 which solicits us, an impulse which carries us away, uncon- 
 sciously to ourselves, or in spite of ourselves. We might 
 say, that the instinct of imitation is borrowed habit ; and 
 that habit is a sort of imitation, which consists in copying 
 one's self 
 
 But there is, in imitation, something superior to what is 
 properly called habit; imitation supposes observation and 
 a certain sympathy ; habit is solitary as well as blind. Ani- 
 mals acquire imitation in a less degree than habit; they only 
 imitate the actions of their own species (with one remarkable 
 exception, for when they live with men, many of them seem 
 to follow their steps, as if men were given to them as 
 guides). The faculty of imitation is different in different 
 species, however. It obtains in man a complete develope- 
 ment, because he has a spirit of observation so curious and 
 investigating, and a principle of activity so indefatigable. 
 
 The province of imitation, like that of habit, is in external, 
 sensitive, organic life, and should reign there. In practice, 
 it saves care, fatigue, and time, and renders, through partici- 
 pation, the experience acquired by a few, perhaps by one, 
 common to a great number of individuals. It preserves 
 concert in the multitude of individual movements. It pro- 
 duces uniformity in society, as habit produces constancy in 
 individuals : it also produces a kind of perseverance, per- 
 petuating itself through generations, by the tradition of ex- 
 ample. 
 
 But the instinct of imitation, like mechanical habit, is 
 simply an instrument of execution for external activity : it 
 ought only to be employed in the sphere of application ; 
 anywhere else, it is only an obstacle. Imitation and habit 
 are the great resources of those who cannot move or direct 
 themselves; they compose for such persons an automatic 
 life, and unite to impose chains upon them. We should not 
 be astonished that so many people content themselves more 
 
286 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 or less with this kind of existence, — it is so very convenient. 
 It dispenses with interior labor, soothes all uncertainty, 
 renders us learned without study, regular without effort, 
 and by clothing us in common forms, assures us beforehand 
 of general approbation. 
 
 The instinct of imitation should not be allowed to invade 
 the freedom of our moral faculties, for it would destroy them. 
 It stifles both the Love of Excellence and Self-government, 
 substituting a blind principle for the voice of conscience, 
 taking volition away from our actions, preventing choice, 
 and enchaining liberty. 
 
 It is not enough, therefore, to choose good examples ; it 
 is also important how we use them, and what kind of in- 
 struction we draw from them. 
 
 Since the models of antiquity have been restored to litera, 
 ture and the arts, it has been continually repeated, '' Imitate 
 the ancients;" and the crowd have believed that it was 
 only necessary to chalk out modern works, upon the models 
 of our ancestors, reproducing the same subjects, setting 
 them in the same framework, observing the same propor- 
 tions, and employing the same expedients. In vain the 
 small number of superior minds have replied, "Yes — we 
 should imitate the ancients, by going up to the same inspira- 
 tions, and becoming what they were ; daring like them to 
 think for ourselves ; like them being original, simple, ingen- 
 uous." But few have understood them ; it is for genius 
 alone to comprehend them. 
 
 It is just so in morals. The novitiate in virtue should 
 contemplate models, only to be penetrated with their spirit ; 
 not copying the actions of others, but discovering and bor- 
 rowing their generous motives. He should enter into com- 
 munication with the souls of the good, be penetrated with 
 their spirit, learn from them to know himself to consult 
 conscience rather than opinion, to possess merits of his own, 
 and consequently to act from himself. 
 
IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 287 
 
 There are, then, two sorts of imitation, as there are two 
 sorts of exercise ; one passive and mechanical, the other 
 active, free, reflective, and fruitful ; the first needs only to 
 see the example and to follow it ; the second meditates upon 
 it and interprets it ; and these two kinds of imitation act 
 inversely. 
 
 The first, indifferent in its nature, is the channel of 
 vice and error, as well as of what is laudable : and when 
 virtue and truth confide their destiny to it, they lose their 
 character ; the one is despoiled of its merit, the other of its 
 evidence. 
 
 The second kind of imitation chooses ..and discerns, 
 taking examples as aids not as chains, showing to generous 
 souls all the extent of their liberty, and revealing to them 
 all the secret of their strength. " And I also am a painter ! " 
 said Corregio. So the noble spirit, yet ignorant of itself, 
 at sight of the great models in the career of virtue, cries 
 out, " And I too am capable of excellence, and worthy to 
 aspire after it! " Unknown faculties, which had slumbered 
 within us, wait but a similar occasion to take a sudden 
 spring : it is by the example of others, as in a mirror, that 
 we learn to know ourselves : the noble actions that strike 
 our eyes, reveal to us our true vocation, — a revelation 
 which may perhaps influence the whole of our destiny. 
 
 If examples are studied in this spirit, we may draw from 
 them three kinds of utility. In the first place, they facilitate 
 and brighten our understanding of the notions of excellence, 
 by offering a living definition of them. In the second place, 
 they furnish a positive experience in regard to the means 
 of success, the obstacles, and the resources, in the practice 
 of excellence. Lastly, by a happy sympathy they commu- 
 nicate to our heart the sentiments of which they show the 
 effect; exciting a generous emulation, that is to say, the 
 ardent desire, at the same time with the confidence, of 
 equalling those who have preceded us, and perhaps of sur- 
 passing them : but these three kinds of utility require also 
 three conditions, which correspond to them. 
 
288 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 1. It is not one solitary example, which can clearly and 
 exactly define a moral notion. A solitary example may 
 even deceive, more than instruct us ; the idea, in becoming 
 too confined, becomes false at the same time : every moral 
 notion, personified and rendered sensible by example, is 
 accompanied, in this particular case, by circumstances 
 which are really extraneous and fortuitous : we may mis- 
 take for essential, what is only accessary and a part of the 
 costume. It is necessary, therefore, to compare examples, 
 in order to avoid particularizing too much the consequences 
 which we may deduce from them: it is necessary to meet 
 them in different situations, that the ideal may arise, just 
 and true, always clear and distinct from the midst of con- 
 trasts. Let us gather, then, from the different regions of 
 the earth, from different ages, the rich harvest offered us 
 by the tradition of honorable lives. Let us beware of im- 
 prisoning virtue in too narrow conditions. Let us disen- 
 gage it from that which belongs to individuals, to occasions, 
 to places, and to times, that it may shine in its own true 
 and immortal brightness; that it may appear, not as depen- 
 dent on customs and manners, but as a great, eternal, 
 universal law ; not as a local institution, but as the endow- 
 ment of humanity. 
 
 2. It is not only necessary to recur sometimes to exam- 
 ples which are at a distance from us, but it is necessary, 
 in the variety of them, that we should attend to those which 
 are near, and which give us a picture of the circumstances 
 in which we ourselves are placed. We do not well com- 
 prehend the thoughts and sentiments of those, who have 
 little in common with our circumstances : we do not exactly 
 know how to apply their motives ; and there are always pre- 
 texts for dispensing with following their tracks, and we are 
 content with a theoretic admiration. It is well to read Plu- 
 tarch, and to contemplate, in the great personages of history, 
 the immortal traits, which characterize the heroism of virtue : 
 they are for moral education what Homer is for poetical 
 
IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 289 
 
 education ; but it is necessary to seek an experience more 
 near and familiar, which, although it may not transport us 
 so vividly into the region of the ideal, may teach us what 
 we can put in practice, and inspire us with natural senti- 
 ments, which may be realized every day. 
 
 3. To be truly instructive, example ought to be complete; 
 that is to say, it ought to make known, not only the conse- 
 quence, but the cause ; and not only the cause, but the con- 
 currence of all the causes. It is not so difficult a thing to 
 know what should be done, as how it is to be done : in 
 showing the end, the route should be traced. In contem- 
 plating a virtuous action, we should discover also, what ob- 
 stacles it has been obliged to overcome, by what means it 
 has triumphed, by what progressive and often slow prepara- 
 tion it has been accomplished. An action detached from a 
 whole life may shine with great glory, but it may have been 
 only a happy accident, a sudden and passing inspiration : 
 it is the whole of a virtuous life, which it is useful to study ; 
 it is in that we may see how actions spring from character, 
 and are linked together. 
 
 The imagination is excited by extraordinary examples ; 
 for the marvellous of moral nature has a powerful and just 
 charm, which seems also to belong to us. And we need 
 not fear to raise our eyes to these great models, which, 
 standing in the midst of the course of ages, attest all the 
 dignity of human nature; but we ought to console ourselves 
 by this spectacle. 
 
 We are so surrounded by common things, we feel so 
 much our own weakness, it is well to measure the height to 
 w^hich virtue can rise, even if it is only to know how far 
 off we are. But we admire, and most easily praise the merit 
 which is not for our use, and which we believe we are dis- 
 pensed from acquiring ; the enjoyment we experience in 
 contemplating it, is purely gratuitous. Thus we applaud, 
 at the theatre, those great acts of immolation to duty, which 
 are models of the moral sublime, without drawing any 
 9'^ 
 
290 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 consequences for our own life, and without thinking to make 
 any common application of it. But we must also cherish those 
 examples which are real, and which, being more modest, 
 are found at our very door, guides for the journey which 
 we are called on to undertake, and which we would accom- 
 plish. 
 
 It is useful, lastly, to take examples in situations which 
 offer most obstacles and least succour. The virtues of the 
 rich are less eloquent to those who suffer the trial of adver- 
 sity. Poverty has its models of heroism, the sight of which 
 rewards, an hundred fold, while it instructs, those who go 
 to relieve it. How many times have they blushed in consid- 
 ering the patience, the resignation, the sweetness of those 
 abandoned and despised sufferers ! Would that we could 
 conduct to this spectacle, the youths whom we instruct by 
 books ; that we could open to their attention the gates of 
 these humble asylums ! Would that those who, prepared 
 by education, sustained by the opinion of the world, have but 
 few trials to undergo, and so many aids to assist them, could 
 come and look! Would they then dare in the midst of all 
 the enjoyments of life to raise systematic doubts concern- 
 ing human liberty and the reality of virtue ? Would that 
 those would come, who, denying to our nature its best pre- 
 rogatives, sometimes affect nevertheless so much pride ! 
 Would that they could look and be humbled ! Understand- 
 ino- all that there is great, true, and serious in human des- 
 tiny, they might find here the remedy of their frivolity, and 
 an answer to their sophisms. 
 
 In the first ages of civilization, people ranked among 
 the demigods those who had been signalized by great 
 and noble actions. They supposed that these heroes had 
 held a nearer relationship to the divine nature ; they lov- 
 ed to place their examples under the safeguard of public 
 worship, to add to their authority all the power of reli- 
 gion : it was a sort of worship instituted in honor of virtue. 
 How has Christianity extended and purified these views ! 
 
IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 291 
 
 It has chosen models in all the countries of the earth, 
 in all conditions of society ; it has taught the world to hon- 
 or the obscure virtues; its heroes have risen up from the 
 humblest professions ; they have appeared in the robes 
 of indigence; and pride and frivolity have been constrained 
 to prostrate themselves in their presence. It has found ex- 
 amples for each of us, and especially for those vi'ho have 
 most need of succour. 
 
 The vulgar draw moral rules from the authority of exam- 
 ples, while example has no other real authority than that of 
 the rule which it is destined to bring to light. Often, with- 
 out subscribing exactly to this prejudice, we conclude, 
 nevertheless, by induction. We suppose, that all which 
 virtuous men do, may serve as a model, or at least as an 
 'Gxcus'e. This is an error : good people are not always con- 
 sistent; they have their anomalies; they have their errors, 
 which their good intentions must redeem ; and which some- 
 times are connected with their whole lives and their very 
 virtues : it is a privilege which they acquire. Be as good 
 as they, before pretending to participate with them in this 
 privilege. 
 
 The spirit of contradiction seems to have been placed by 
 the side of the disposition to mechanical imitation, as if for 
 an antidote. The sentiment of our liberty, and the de- 
 sire of independence, are innate, and, when they are not 
 •entirely stifled, react against the usurpation which tends to 
 ■ensflave us. Also, they manifest themselves so much the 
 more, as the attempt to enslave us discovers itself more 
 openly. Thus, the spirit of contradiction seems to have 
 been more particularly imparted to the feeble, who, when 
 menaced, find in it protection ; when oppressed, vengeance. 
 If a feeble man cannot defend his liberty in essential things, 
 ihe will console himself by it in little things; if he cannot re- 
 sist acts, he will censure motives ; and we often see this con- 
 trast of a feebleness, which follows example, with a freedom 
 of mind, which, in condemning this same example, recom- 
 
292 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 penses itself for its slavery, united in the same character. 
 However, the spirit of contradiction serves badly, some- 
 times, the cause for which it is employed : it seeks, not 
 what is best in itself, but what is opposed to that which 
 exists : it does not tend towards the end, but is content to 
 go out of the common route. Its true office is to criticize, 
 only that it may prepare for an impartial examination ; to 
 break the chains of instinctive imitation, that it may bestow 
 on the soul that free activity, which, at last, is exercised in 
 reflective imitation. 
 
 Pride also repulses examples, but it is because it refuses 
 to recognise all superiority ; and moral superiority, being 
 the most real, must trouble it more than any other. It 
 disdains aids ; it wishes to isolate itself. Truth and good- 
 ness themselves are wrong in the eyes of the proud, if they 
 come from another. They grow capricious and odd in 
 seeking to be original. Those who reject example, are 
 ordinarily those to whom it would be most necessary. One 
 of its great advantages is precisely to serve as a remedy ta 
 pride. Happy are they, who have left us this rich heritage ;. 
 who, in preceding us, have smoothed our way ! May they 
 continue in the midst of us, venerated aud subjects of grati- 
 tude ! they are our true inslructers and masters. It is de- 
 lightful, it is soul-sustaininoj, to live in this illustrious com" 
 pany ! We find in it entire security.. Our inquietudes are 
 calmed; our doubts dissipated: fatigued at the sight of the 
 world and the sense of our own weakness, isolated perhaps 
 on earth, we find in them the friends whose communion 
 sustains, encourages, consoles us. 
 
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 293 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 
 
 Priendship is acknowledged to be the greatest of all 
 treasures, necessary to complete our pleasures, and power- 
 ful to console our sufferings : but few have estimated its 
 value as a moral power. Indeed, it has sometimes led us 
 to dispense with new efforts and lulled us to sleep in its 
 delightful communion, — our self-love being flattered, our 
 pretensions acquiesced in, our weaknesses indulged. More 
 than this, — self-iiiUn-est corrupts it, and it becomes the 
 accomplice of our indolence and our faults. With our 
 friends we are always disposed to believe ourselves better 
 than we are ; a mistake which is an obstacle to our becoming 
 better in reality. 
 
 In the universal plan, association is always a principle of 
 fruitfulness ; and is not friendship a great moral associa- 
 tion? And is it not then destined to make virtue germinate 
 in the bosom of the affections ? 
 
 If we wish friendship to be to us what it ought to be, a 
 great moral influence, we should seek friends superior to 
 ourselves. Those who are ambitious of wealth or power, 
 do this. In attaching ourselves to those who are stronger 
 than we are, we are guarded from two dangers; we are 
 preserved from indolence on the one side, and defended 
 from presumption on the other. Elevated minds are natu- 
 rally drawn to communicate with those whose superiority 
 they feel ; a kind of instinct reveals to them the important 
 truth, which we are here endeavouring to establish : they 
 perceive in the image of this superiority, what they are 
 destined to become themselves. Intimacy with those who 
 are better than we are, unites to the influence of example, 
 and to the confidence which springs from the presence of 
 25* 
 
294 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 aid, a new and powerful kind of emulation, springing from 
 our desire to be united with what we love : it gives noble- 
 ness to sentiments, ardor to will, and confidence to action. 
 Happy is he who has found in a friend a model ; who can 
 mingle affection with esteem, admiration, and respect.* 
 
 The wish of Plato is then accomplished, and virtue is 
 personified. In proportion as virtue is better known, it be- 
 comes more beautiful; in proportion as it admits us to fa- 
 miliarity, it engages us the more in its worship ; for we love 
 better those whom we can honor. 
 
 We ordinarily seek friends who resemble us, because we 
 desire in friendship a means of repose and a sanction of 
 habit. But if we wish to find friendship a means of educa- 
 tion, we should, on the other hand, look for friends, who 
 abound in what we want, and have the qualities correspond- 
 ino- to our deficiencies. Then we may make instructive 
 comparisons and advantageous exchanges. Habitual con- 
 tradictions will be useful, although inconvenient ; it will 
 keep us awake, preserve us from slavish routine, and exer- 
 cise a salutary control. Nature indicates this, in founding 
 on an absolute contrast, that friendship which it has itself 
 instituted, the most perfect and the most durable of all, mar- 
 riacre. The moral conditions of friendship, therefore, are 
 nearly the inverse of the external conditions, in which 
 there should be the greatest equality. 
 
 The perfect intimacy of friendship can be established 
 only between two persons: it is a marriage of souls, which 
 does not admit of polygamy. The heart has secrets it can 
 only confide to one, — devotion has tributes, which cannot 
 be shared : we can give ourselves wholly only to one person ; 
 the communication cannot be mutually absolute, into which 
 a third is received. Friendship is a preference and a 
 choice ; it proceeds therefore by reduction. Religious 
 
 * But, in this case, will not every one be seeking, and no one find a 
 friend ? The good man always esteems himself less than he is, and this 
 suffices to solve the difficulty. 
 
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 295 
 
 morality only confirms the wish of sentiment, in excluding 
 plurality from the conjugal union, the most perfect of all 
 friendships. But it is not well, on the other hand, to shut 
 ourselves up, exclusively in communion with an only friend ; 
 for then friendship would fail of one of its ends, which con- 
 sists in opening the heart to the social affections, and grad- 
 ually preparing the reign of benevolence. Moreover, in this 
 prolonged t tc-d-tle, we should end by copying each other, 
 till we could no longer have any exchange to make ; we 
 should be blinded by each other ; we should honestly flatter 
 each other. It is important to vary companions and exam- 
 ples. In multiplying our relations, we see ourselves in va- 
 rious lights ; we gather more complete influences, and save 
 ourselves from introducing personal feeling into our aifec- 
 tions ; we are less exposed to partial judgments, to exagger- 
 ations, to adopting the faults of our friends. 
 
 The compact of that holy friendship, of which mutual 
 progress is the object, rests upon two conditions : namely, 
 sincere and perfect confidence, and severe mutual watchful- 
 ness. 
 
 We involuntarily place ourselves in a favorable light to 
 our friends ; for how can we have courage to compromise 
 a treasure of so great a price as friendship, by discovering 
 to them what we fear to avow to ourselves? Indeed, in the 
 moments of this delightful communion, we arc under an 
 illusion ourselves, forgetting the weaknesses to which we 
 yield in our hours of solitude. But benefit from our friends, 
 as from our physician, depends on our confessions. Con- 
 fessions have a magic power in preparing the means of cure 
 for maladies of the soul ; they aid us in being sincere with 
 ourselves ; they are the commencement of a generosity, 
 which purifies the will, and gives a spring to courage. Ev- 
 ery confession is an implied promise of an attempt to reform. 
 Some faults are half corrected, when we have confessed 
 them without disguise ; and what is remarkable, these are 
 precisely the faults, which are the most difficult to reach, 
 because they hide themselves in the depth of our souls. 
 
296 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Such is, for instance, that subtle self-love, which exerts 
 all its skill in concealing itself from all eyes, that it may 
 satisfy itself more surely. In practising perfect candor in 
 our habitual intercourse, we are preserved from certain 
 blemishes, which do not dare to display themselves. How 
 fortunate a habit is this, which guarantees purity of heart 
 and simplicity, — at the same time giving us comfort and 
 putting us at ease ! But how could we incessantly submit 
 to the sacrifices which simplicity and purity require of us, 
 unless friendship were near, to reassure us, and to temper 
 our self-reproaches 1 
 
 Mutual vigilance demands from friendship not only crit- 
 icism but encouragement. The true friend is a benevolent 
 censor, who sustains while he represses us, consoles while 
 he corrects us; whose severity is full of tenderness. 
 
 But it is difficult to fulfil this second condition of friend- 
 ship ; for, on the one hand, we would rather confess our 
 faults than have them anticipated by another ; and, on the 
 other hand, it is more agreeable to notice the merits of our 
 friends than their faults, to praise than to blame them. 
 Thus, how inefficiently we fulfil this duty towards others, 
 and how feeble is our gratitude to those who discharge it 
 to us ! 
 
 The communication of intimate friendship, then, is the 
 school of self-knowledge. The confidential out-pourings of 
 intimacy aid us essentially : language is a mirror in which 
 our own thought is reflected ; and feeling, in being com- 
 municated, is developed, and defined : we perhaps never 
 entirely understand our internal secrets until we have con- 
 fided them to others. 
 
 The sight of a virtuous friend, if we meet him at the crit- 
 ical moment, suffices to preserve us from weakness, and to 
 inspire us with courageous resolution. It is a light which 
 seems to come from Heaven, and descend to the bottom of 
 our souls. Constantly in the presence of our friends, their 
 esteem will be strength to us ; the desire of making them 
 
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 297 
 
 rejoice, of making their hearts leap at our good actions, will 
 be a still farther encouragement; and of what will it not 
 render us capable ? We would devote ourselves to their hap- 
 piness. Can we bring them a purer felicity than our own 
 improvement ? 
 
 Our conviction of a truth seems to redouble in our minds, 
 when we have found it in another's mind : it is a testimony 
 that we have thought correctly. Honorable sentiments 
 acquire more power when we find them participated. It is 
 the nature of all the impressions which carry in themselves 
 a character of harmony, to be pleased with the concert 
 which repeats them, and to receive a new energy in meeting 
 their own image. It is a second harmony, joined to the 
 first, confirming and deepening it. The truth found by two 
 has more vividness ; a good action done in companionship 
 produces a livelier joy. When we meditate with a friend, 
 apart, on that which belongs to excellence, does not virtue 
 rise before us more beautiful and majestic? If this sacred 
 alliance is forined in the flower of youih, how freshly spring 
 up all lawful hopes from the bosom of all generous senti- 
 ments ! This is the period of life in which friendship is 
 most useful, and in which it has most charms : and Provi- 
 dence thus seems to take pleasure in inviting to it those, 
 to whom it may give most assistance. When contracted in 
 view of the common end of destiny, friendship becomes an 
 alliance of the whole life. United to become better, these 
 beings will advance together in the stormy and difficult career 
 of terrestrial existence. They will shield, they will encour- 
 age, they will recompense each other ; extending to each 
 other the hand in the midst of precipices, showing to each 
 other the palm of victory. They have placed all their mer- 
 its in coqimon, and their affection increases through their 
 mutual gratitude. Is one of them touched by adversity, or 
 struck down by the injustice of man ? He thus becomes more 
 dear to the other; friendship preserves to him those true 
 blessings which cannot be taken away, and absolves him 
 
298 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 from the unjust decrees of opinion. The events and pas- 
 sions, which are in agitation around them, do not enfeeble 
 the ties which bind them together ; for these ties are placed 
 under an inviolable safeguard. Not even absence can really 
 separate them. For their souls have a centre, where they 
 again find and understand each other. They go on, there- 
 fore, with the same step. What have I said ? Perhaps one 
 of them has accomplished his task and disappeared, and 
 the succours of friendship have ceased. No; not all the 
 succours of friendship have ceased : he who is condemned 
 to survive, is improved by his very grief: his soul, widowed 
 for a time, nourishes itself on remembrance and hopes ; 
 on the tomb of him whom he has loved, he meditates upon 
 his example and his counsels, with veneration and a re- 
 ligious tenderness. In the voice which calls him to be good^ 
 he recognises the voice of a friend. Worthy actions are the 
 monuments he would raise to his memory. 
 
 In an entire circle of friends, there is one who must re- 
 main the last. To what solitude is that heart given up, 
 which was created for the affections ! What support shall 
 be found to assist him? What support? If he has known 
 how to profit in the school of friendship, he will comprehend, 
 that there is,, in the path of progress, a more elevated point 
 than that in which we enjoy intimate affection, a point for- 
 tunately reserved for those who are already far onward in 
 their 'career : he will comprehend that there is a secret 
 heroism of heart in fidelity to excellence, which perseveres 
 when consolations and encouragements have been taken 
 away, when we can no longer find a recompense in the ap- 
 probation of those we have loved. This deprivation of all 
 visible assistance calls us to exercises almost sublime ; it 
 leads us to touch the summits of virtue. 
 
 Independently of the aids received in the communica- 
 tion of friendship, there are others, which have their uses, 
 although they are not so pleasant, and are even mixed with 
 bitterness. Our enemies lend us assistance, or at least we 
 
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 299 
 
 may borrow assistance from them. They serve to correct 
 whatever was too complaisant and soft in friendship ; to 
 make up for the adulations which are so liable to corrupt 
 us. They afford an abundant supplement to the instruc- 
 tions which introduce us to the knowledge of ourselves. 
 From our friends we may learn our good qualities; from 
 our enemies, our defects. We can trust ourselves to the 
 latter for this discovery, which we should perhaps never 
 know how to have made without their aid. Our self-love 
 will have, it is true, the resource of accusing these witnesses 
 of partiality ; but if we are sincere, we shall almost always 
 find something true in the exaggerated reproaches of 
 enmity. 
 
 The presence of an enemy awakens our vigilance: wg 
 become severe towards ourselves, that we may prevent the 
 just severity of others. 
 
 It is then well, for some reasons, to have enemies : it may 
 be even necessary. It is true, we are not obliged to be the 
 enemy of any one ; but we may often be called upon to have 
 adversaries. We meet them, not only in the struggle of 
 private interests, but, inevitably, in devoting ourselves to 
 the cause of truth and justice; — and it is especially in this 
 last case, that adversaries become implacable enemies. 
 
 The fear of creating enemies, sometimes produces a 
 culpable looseness. Thus, we often compromise duty, 
 when, in fulfilling it, it is necessary to resist the passions or 
 strike down the prejudices of others; too often defending 
 innocence timidly and feebly, and leaving pernicious max- 
 ims to circulate freely ; for, we say, shall we compromise 
 our repose for abstractions ! We tremble, especially, before 
 pride and intolerance, because, of all the passions, they are 
 the most irritable ; yet these are especially what demand 
 to be repressed with vigor and chastised with severity, 
 and ought to find the good man the most inflexible.* We 
 
 * The disciple of Jesus Christ, cannot but remark that these are vices 
 which found his Master the most unyielding. He gave no quarter to the 
 gystematic mental oppression of the Scribes and Pharisees. — Translator. 
 
300 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 hope to escape by some concessions. But the more we 
 grant, the more we find ourselves constrained to give up. 
 
 The wise man, when serving the cause of virtue, avoids 
 employing the arrows which wound persons : he reserves his 
 severities for principles and actions. But what care soever 
 he takes, he will always find people, who will perceive them- 
 selves censured, who will take to themselves the blame, 
 and who are wounded to hear the virtues praised which they 
 do not possess. The just man defending innocence, always 
 avoids mingling, even with the just indignation of an hon- 
 est soul, accents of human passion ; but oppressive violence 
 is irritated beforehand with a moderation which condemns 
 it. Persecutors do not pardon those, who refuse to become 
 the instruments of persecution ; they even bear ill will to 
 those, who do not approve them, especially if they are good, 
 What then is to be done to escape these animosities ? Even 
 impartiality and moderation, far from always defending us 
 from enmity, draw upon us the hatred of men, who are 
 blinded by their passions. What is to be done ? It remains 
 to accept this hatred as an honor, to disdain it with a mod- 
 est and serene dignity. There are enemies, whose attacks 
 should give us a more vivid consciousness of our merits. 
 The public man should applaud himself for his own firmness, 
 and for the integrity of his character, if he is the object 
 of the clamors of intrigue. To what fury will he not expose 
 himself, who, called to unmask hypocrisy, shall have fulfill- 
 ed his duty vvith a courageous freedom'? A magistrate, as 
 we have often seen, has not an enemy more bitter, than he 
 who has vainly tried to corrupt him. It is impossible to be 
 sincere, without wounding some vanity ; just, without offend- 
 ing some pretensions ; generous, without attacking selfish- 
 ness. We have remarked, and unfortunately the remark 
 is well founded, that the most unjust enmity will injure its 
 object, in a degree, in public opinion. Hence arises new 
 ^instruction. This experience will teach us not to rest upon 
 opinion, and to measure its value ; it will teach us the last 
 
SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 301 
 
 sacrifice which duty claims ; it will constrain us to seek 
 and to find, in the testimony of conscience, the true secret of 
 repose and strength. 
 
 Thus we find friendship especially favors the Love of 
 Excellence ; enmity, the exercise of Self-government. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 
 
 Social intercourse is a primary means of education for 
 man. It is by this intercourse that he is delivered from the 
 savage and brutal life of the senses, and introduced into the 
 life of the affections and of thought ; and the same influence 
 accompanies him when he enters into the moral life. 
 
 As language, instituted in the first place for reciprocal 
 communication, becomes an instrument by which each in- 
 dividual developes, forms, and fixes thought and judgment ; 
 in observing others, we unconsciously study ourselves as 
 in a mirror ; even the differences we discover instructing 
 us, by multiplying companions and contrasts. Thus, social 
 intercourse becomes a school for reflection. In discovering 
 what we are, we also perceive what we may become ; and, 
 called to choose in view of the future, we are led to look 
 into ourselves. The struggle of interests and pretensions 
 brings out the sentiment of justice; benefits received, teach 
 gratitude, and thus we are led from equity to love ; more- 
 over, the exchange of affection teaches devotion, and devo- 
 tion, the generosity which introduces virtue. 
 
 How profound are the designs of Providence in thus con- 
 stituting the laws of human nature ; putting the spur of a 
 want wherever there is a means of progress! The first of 
 these means is the social state, which is first a necessity, and 
 26 
 
303 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 then an attraction. Our faculties make progress by exercise, 
 and activity springs first from a sense of want which seeks 
 exercise, society afterwards preserving the love of movement, 
 by offering infinitely varied opportunities of satisfying it. In- 
 fancy and youth have especial need of support and guidance, 
 and they are adorned with graces, that charm and attract 
 all hearts, love springing from being beloved. Affection 
 thus excited towards those who are entering life, protects 
 them ; and by its benignant countenance teaches the lesson 
 of love, by means of which they are softened and touched, 
 and learn to understand ; and the young themselves pressed 
 on by the necessity of being cherished, invoke and solicit 
 affection, as a great object of life, without knowing the 
 assistance it will lend them. They soon, however, learn 
 the nature and value of this assistance, and feeling that they 
 must merit esteem, if they would preserve such blessings., 
 they would do something to obtain it ; they would respond 
 to the sentiment of which they are the objects, and in which 
 they find a support and protection. What confidence it 
 inspires to see ourselves beloved! And what an argument 
 may be derived from the above views, that those who have 
 the care of youth should be good ! By this alone they give 
 knowledge and strength. But it is not to the morning of 
 life alone that this influence is extended. Throughout our 
 moral education, if we know how to concur with it, by the 
 cooperation which it requires, this influence may be benefi- 
 cial ; but it may be modified and consequently adulterated, 
 as our relations become extended and complicated. 
 
 " Every time that 1 have been among men, I have return- 
 ed more imperfect," says a sage, who was too severe, per- 
 haps, towards society and towards himself. He was a her- 
 mit. When a man goes from solitude into the world, he 
 runs the danger of being drawn into too severe judgments 
 upon the world and himself We cannot find realized in 
 society the images we have arbitrarily formed in a con- 
 templation wholly ideal; we cannot apply rigorously the 
 
SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 303 
 
 absolute rules which we had drawn up in the regions of 
 abstraction. Thrown into the midst of society, we are struck 
 by the contrast ; we encounter a thousand obstacles, which 
 we have not experienced or suspected in our solitary life. 
 The dissipation of mind, alone, is a great trouble ; hav- 
 ing no longer our customary aids, we become disconcerted. 
 It was easy to speculate on perfection in a state of tranquil- 
 lity, and far from danger. We perhaps believed ourselves 
 to have attained it, until we were put to the proof, till reality 
 came, and the labor commenced ; now we find fault with the 
 world, from not remarking that we have doubtless carried 
 into the world an imperfect and feeble virtue. Do not let 
 us accuse other men of our own faults ; but reflect, that 
 we, perhaps, might have carried with us and preserved dis- 
 positions by which we might have escaped peril and gathered 
 advantages. 
 
 The social inclination has something in it eminently 
 moral; it puts in motion many precious faculties; it opens 
 the soul, and makes it expand with many honorable senti- 
 ments. How solemn, touching, and noble is the impression 
 which we receive of the dignity of human nature when we 
 find ourselves in the midst of an assembly of men of different 
 conditions, with whom we have no point of contact and no 
 collision of interests. It is the same kind of impression, 
 more extended bat less vivid, that we receive in the midst 
 of our own family. We are strengthened by the great alli- 
 ance ; and generous sentiments take the ascendency rapidly 
 and surely. Such an impression is often received when 
 we mingle with the crowd, on those days set apart to sacred 
 rest. The impression is deepened, if this assembly is in 
 the midst of the simple scenes of nature ; if its attention is 
 directed towards some grave and majestic work of art ; if 
 it is gathered round the statue of a great man ; or if it 
 fills a solemn temple : in short, if some moral or relig- 
 ious thought comes over all, the soul is penetrated with 
 emotions of a strong and elevated character. This is the 
 
304 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 natural influence which we should constantly receive 
 from social intercourse, if it were not adulterated by the 
 hostile dispositions, which spring out of our rivalries, and 
 our secret desire of invading and subduing others. But 
 the hostilities of which we are the object do not so much 
 interfere with it, as those of which we are the authors. The 
 wounds that the first cause us, are envenomed by our- 
 selves ; we seem to take ' delight in inflaming them ; we 
 allow the envy that we might despise, to irritate us ; the 
 criticism that might enlighten, to wound us ; and we are 
 mortified even by indifference. Our self-love, especially, 
 wages with the self-love of others a silent and concealed 
 but continual and implacable war. We complain of being 
 carried away by the influence of example : but we give it 
 the power that it exercises over us. On examination, we 
 shall find that the examples so easily followed, meet a secret 
 propensity within, and that we have a secret interest in fol- 
 lowing the tracks of others : this happens, especially, in 
 regard to those whom we would flatter ; for there is no 
 adulation more delicate. 
 
 We complain of the extreme corruption of the world, of 
 the discouragement and sadness that it makes us feel; but 
 we should guard against declamation, and appreciate things 
 according to their just value. At our entrance into the 
 world, we generally presume too much upon the goodness 
 of other men, and so require too much ; afterwards vve fall 
 into the opposite exaggeration, through the effect of the 
 surprise which our mistake has made us experience. If we 
 are sincere, we shall acknowledge that the vices with vi^hich 
 we especially reproach the world, are those by which our 
 vanity, our repose, or our pretensions have suffered : and 
 that our judgment has a little the character of revenge. We 
 are disconcerted with ourselves, and wreak this discontent 
 upon others : we look at them through the medium of a 
 chagrin, which springs from being ill at ease. We have 
 hardly studied to discover and to note what society may 
 
SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 305 
 
 contain of hidden virtues, of pure and just sentiments. Be- 
 sides, how great is the weakness of our reason, if morality 
 loses its authority in our eyes, because it loses its credit in 
 the world ! Is worldly success necessary, as its sanction or 
 its proof ? Does morality become an illusion, because some 
 frivolous men misconceive it? If so, let us go upon the 
 theatre of the world, as generous defenders of this miscon- 
 cenceived cause, instead of flying, and yielding to pusillan- 
 imous fears. In seeking to make it honored and attractive, 
 we shall better feel all that it contains of the true, benefi- 
 cial, and celestial ; we shall feel the necessity of supporting 
 our defence of it by our character. The progress of philos- 
 ophy and science is indebted chiefly to the controversies that 
 truth has encountered ; each party has gathered new truths 
 springing out of the discussions; morality may draw similar 
 fruits from similar collisions. The good man will confirm 
 the solidity of his principles by this noble contest ! he will 
 learn to proclaim aloud the sacred maxims of duty in the 
 face of human passion, and to do good for goodness' sake ; 
 he will be inflamed v/ith new ardor for morality, when he 
 sees it misunderstood, exiled, persecuted ; he will come 
 from the field where he has devoted himself in its cause, 
 more manly, great, and independent. 
 
 The honor of carrying this kind of devotion to heroism 
 is granted to but few ; it is a favor that Providence has 
 reserved to those privileged souls who appear on earth as the 
 glorious witnesses of eternal truth. But each of us, in his 
 own circle, may participate in this glorious vocation ; each 
 of us, in struggling against prejudice, vicious passion, indif- 
 ference, and frivolity, may become a confessor of morality, 
 fulfil a kind of appostleship, confirm it by his success and 
 sacrifices ; and gather new strength in learning to resist. 
 
 Society, which subjects us to numerous restraints, and 
 
 to various contradictions, also gives a favorable exercise to 
 
 Self-government. By a singular contradiction, we resign 
 
 ourselves to trial, but generally disdain to draw advantage 
 
 26* 
 
306 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 from it ; spitefully constraining ourselves to make the sac- 
 rifice to interest, to ambition, and especially to self-love, 
 instead of making it a means of progress. But we might 
 do voluntarily, what we do against our will, and accept oppo- 
 sition sincerely, instead of limiting ourselves to a control of 
 our words and manners. If we could employ it as an exer- 
 cise of our virtue, the imposed constraint would become 
 much less painful, and we should better attain the effect 
 that we expect from it, since we should support it more 
 gracefully. The life of anchorites has doubtless some 
 striking self-denial; but in the midst of society, which 
 seems to offer only dissipation and pleasure, there is also 
 self-denial for those, who know how to understand and use 
 it ; and though less singular, it is not always the less meri- 
 torious. 
 
 Society, then, is more favorable to our progress than we 
 are willing to allow. Perhaps we would excuse ourselves 
 for not profiting by the aid which it offers us. It is true, 
 that the undertaking is difficult; but these difficulties are 
 amons^ the conditions of its advantacres. Hence we should 
 not only be mature and strong, when we go upon this stage, 
 but we should continue to strengthen and mature our- 
 selves. Society is a sea, and we should not embark on it 
 without provision ; a field of combat, in which we should 
 not present ourselves without arms. We should have a 
 strong foundation of benevolence towards persons, and se- 
 verity in principles, and should renew this foundation con- 
 tinually ; for it is that which society tends continually to 
 break down. It is necessary to nourish and to reanimate 
 ourselves incessantly by meditation ; for society is dissipa- 
 tion renewed in a thousand forms ; it is an immense tumult. 
 We must enter it self-possessed, for it tends to take from 
 us every thing that is original. We must also grow un- 
 ceasingly, for obstacles are multiplied unceasingly. In 
 order to prevent, in their origin, 'the painful impressions 
 that we receive in intercourse with the world, we should 
 
SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 307 
 
 watch over ourselves, and take care lest disorder and agi- 
 tation be introduced into our moral faculties, by the agi- 
 tation which reigns around us ; for this is the commence- 
 ment of all the moral maladies, whose contagion threatens 
 us; in agitation, the good resolutions on which we had been 
 nourished are dissipated ; the plans we had conceived are 
 forgotten ; we are carried away without perceiving it, sur- 
 prised without defence ; every day we go back some steps, 
 and with no design of corrupting ourselves, we yield to cor- 
 ruption unawares. If a sudden ray of light comes to avert 
 the peril and reveal the losses already experienced, our 
 agitation increases through regret ; and opposition being 
 raised between the old sentiment of good, and the feeble 
 habits just contracted, confusion is soon at its acme, and 
 we finish by turning away our thoughts from ourselves, to 
 escape a troublesome spectacle. So a want of attention 
 brings gradually the loss of fortune. The wise man in the 
 midst of the world, where he is unperceived, and where he 
 is glad to be unknown, free and peaceful in his obscurity, 
 attentive and self-possessed in the midst of agitation, re- 
 quiring little and having little to defend, an impartial wit- 
 ness, an indulgent judge, observes, without allowing him- 
 self to be carried away. As the scrutinizing glance of 
 science finds an inexhaustible mine of discoveries in the 
 scenes of nature, whose aspect distracts the superficial eye 
 of ignorance ; so the wise man finds in society a multitude 
 of instructions. Like the scientific man, he can also turn 
 his observations to useful results. What experience the 
 scene of human life may offer to him, who knows how to 
 study it! How many circumstances might turn the frivo- 
 lous man into himself, and draw him to the most profound 
 reflections, if he consented for an instant to connect with 
 their causes the effects around him ! In the midst of so 
 many wanderings and errors, the wise man perceives the 
 part which belongs to frivolity, to ignorance, to weakness, 
 and thus measures all the seriousness of their consequences. 
 
308 
 
 SELF-ED UCATION. 
 
 He discovers in them, perhaps, natural qualities, turned in 
 a wrong direction, or in disproportion. He looks upon 
 corruption to see in its painful consequences, its perhaps 
 hidden origin ; and upon intrigue, to estimate more justly 
 its baseness, even in its success, by considering the means 
 which have led to it. He constrains himself to see vice, 
 perhaps triumphant, in order to know how to detest it as it 
 deserves ; but he finds out also those obscurer and humble 
 virtues, which fill his heart with joy. The wise man passes 
 through the world without confounding himself with it; 
 self-distrustful, yet courageous, he goes on with vigilance, 
 and he leaves it with satisfaction, all moral truths having 
 acquired new force and innumerable corollaries. 
 
 Fear, and a disgust with the world, often seek solitude. 
 The most diverse, even the most contrary causes, inspire 
 the want of it; but the expectation which leads to it is not 
 always satisfied. The timid seek in it a refuge against 
 dangers they cannot face ; the tender and delicate, against 
 the arrows that wound them ; those deceived by cruel mis- 
 understandings, try to forget society ; inexperience shuts 
 itself up as in a haven from storms; grief buries itself as in 
 a tomb ; a melancholy imagination hopes to find solace or 
 liberty. The wicked and the innocent alike seek solitude, 
 — the former to expiate their crimes, when tormented by 
 remorse, the latter to taste more freely a celestial and pure 
 happiness. In consequence of the storms caused by violent 
 passions, dejection, prudence, the reaction of violent will, 
 bring to solitary life characters which seem least fitted for 
 it. Not only ambition and vanity, when disappointed, are 
 driven into solitude; selfish misanthropy, all unsocial hu- 
 mors, demand less what it can give than mere isolation. 
 They are dragged into it, perhaps, to be punished. Wis- 
 dom also sighs after solitude, seeking retreat as the sanctu- 
 ary of meditation, and finding in it the calmness and inde- 
 pendence necessary to regulate the moral faculties. Lofty 
 souls love retirement, because all their elevated thoughts 
 
SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 309 
 
 and sentiments may be developed there, and they can better 
 enjoy themselves. 
 
 But the influence which solitude exercises, depends upon 
 the motives which lead to it, the dispositions which are car- 
 ried into it, and the manner in which we use it. 
 
 We have spoken of the advantages of solitude : we must 
 now speak of its dangers ; especially we must insist upon 
 the conditions that solitude requires, in order to be profita- 
 ble, — indeed, in order not to be fatal. 
 
 Feebleness, in seeking solitude, destroys its resources, by 
 losing every opportunity of exercising courage. We often 
 find within, more terrible enemies than those without, with 
 less means to escape or combat them. These enemies still 
 pursue their victim, and, taking him captive, fall upon him. 
 We hope for repose, but sink into exhaustion, or wander in 
 delirium. We hope for consolation, but we have deprived 
 ourselves of activity and of beneficence, the truest consola- 
 tions; we flatter ourselves that we shall gather instruction, 
 but we see ourselves plunged into darkness, and soon the 
 darkness is peopled with a thousand phantoms. Solitude 
 is useful only to him, who has a sincere desire of becoming 
 better; miserable is he, who imprisons himself with his 
 passions, without being resolved to subdue them. 
 
 But it is not sufficient to enter retirement, even with the 
 right disposition of soul ; it is necessary to be provided 
 with aliment for the mind and the heart; otherwise we run 
 the risk of finding ourselves in a desert, where we shall 
 perish with inanition. In order to draw from retirement 
 the advantages which it promises, the moral faculties must 
 have acquired a certain degree of energy. Otherwise we 
 shall soon be fatigued with the monotony of the objects and 
 continuity of situation, and shall fall into lethargy. We 
 must be mild and amiable, also, in order to make the best 
 use of solitude. We must be serene, we must be to ourselves 
 an easy host, not a ferocious jailor. We must have a con- 
 stant and well-ordered activity, and a wise self-distrust, in 
 
310 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 order to prevent illusions, 'idle speculations, blind presump- 
 tion, and pride. Without rules, limitations, and vigilance, 
 the liberty of solitude will become a peril ; dogmatism and 
 the exaggeration of a false enthusiasm will germinate; the 
 virtues will be mixed with the passions, and imbibe their 
 vehemence. We shall grow excessively severe, both towards 
 others and ourselves ; we'shall pursue a chimerical perfection, 
 and at the same time unconsciously become accomplices of 
 enterprises the most fatal to mankind : thus solitude may 
 become either a severe school, in which the moral educa- 
 tion is finished, or an abyss, in which happiness, reason, 
 and virtue are swallowed up. There have not only sprung 
 from it the greatest discoveries of genius and the most be- 
 neficent displays of eminent character, but it has nourished 
 also those terrible passions whose excesses have astonished 
 mankind.* 
 
 Solitude is therefore not only useful but difficult ; it re- 
 quires proper preparation and precautions; and, although 
 indispensable, is not a complete and sufficient education. 
 Doubtless it alone can give to the Love of Excellence all its 
 energy, to reflection, all the profoundness of which our 
 nature is capable ; to the internal virtues relating to self- 
 communion, the highest degree of developement : to Self- 
 government, all the authority which it may receive from 
 contemplation and self-knowledge ; and to the heroism of 
 virtue, its most substantial aliment. But protracted solitude 
 will deprive us of the aids of experience, of virtuous activity, 
 and of the useful influence which Self-government draws 
 
 * Estimable philosophers have conceived the idea of employing absolute 
 retirement as a means of correction for great criminals, and of employing it 
 also as a means of chastisement. It is a noble thought, to make the pun- 
 ishment the means of correcting crime. In the application of this means, 
 however, we should consider to what characters this regimen is applied , 
 and modify the discipline according to circumstances. We should take 
 care that absolute solitude do not become a fatal idleness, and that there 
 be a proper proportion of bodily labor, and a course of reading favorable to 
 salutary reflection. 
 
SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 311 
 
 from the shock of external obstacles. We shall arrive 
 more promptly and easily to a partial perfection, very well, 
 doubtless, for those whose duties lie in a confined sphere; 
 but we shall not so well attain to that general perfection, 
 which, embracing all application, is the destination of those 
 whose duties call them to spread themselves abroad. A 
 regimen of continued solitude may be useful, but it is an 
 exception. Occasional solitude is the rule for most, men. 
 Alternate retirement and society is to moral progress what 
 the mixture of theory and observation is to the progress of 
 the sciences. Solitude has its exaggerations, as theory its 
 hypotheses. Solitude and theory may gather fruits for 
 themselves; but their true and legitimate employment 
 should be to prepare for the intercourse of the world and 
 the arts of observation : deprived of the instrument of elab- 
 oration, Ihe latter are only dissipation of heart and empiri- 
 cism of intellect. 
 
 Do you fear solitude ? This is an infallible sign that it 
 is necessary to you ; you have not learnt to know yourself; 
 and this again is a sign that you have a malady of soul, 
 which solitude may discover to you, and perhaps will cure. 
 With a reason strong, and a heart burning to do good, is 
 life before you ? Then go into solitude, and prepare the 
 means of usefulness. Are you called upon to take some 
 important resolution? Are you placed in unexpected and 
 difficult circumstances? Go into solitude, and consult your 
 strength, foresee and combine your plans of conduct. Have 
 you seen much of life ? In solitude you can put in order your 
 painful experiences, and returning to the world you may 
 apply and prove the labors of retirement. Solitude suits 
 especially both youth and old age. But the serious drama 
 of middle life must have its intervals. There must be rest- 
 ing-places in the career. Go into solitude on the evening 
 and the morning of every great event of your life. 
 
 Do you wish to receive all the utility both of solitude and 
 of society? Endeavour, when in society, to preserve an 
 
312 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 inward solitude, and in solitude, to create a world such as 
 you will one day live in. Live in society as if you would 
 quit it to-morrow, and in retirement as if to-morrow you 
 were to communicate with men, and to serve them. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PLAN OF LIFE. 
 
 The love of power and wealth take every means to ac- 
 complish their ends, making every thing in contact with 
 them, — affections, relations, pleasures, events, the smallest 
 circumstances, subservient. Why may we not apply the 
 same method to accomplish our moral perfection, the most 
 real of our interests, instead of neglecting it so strangely? 
 In our life, the different parts have, morally speaking, no 
 connexion ; there is no design : the elements of excellence 
 are thrown here and there at hazard, so that every thing is 
 fruitless, which might do us good, and every thing injurious 
 becomes still more dangerous. Through our want of pre- 
 caution, what is acquired is dissipated : we are astonished 
 at every thing, because we have been improvident : nothing 
 instructs us, because it is not in its right place. 
 
 This is not the place to inquire, whether school education 
 has, in general, sufficient reference to the future situation 
 of each individual ; whether indeed it is really a cultivation 
 of the faculties, tending to give them a harmonious devel- 
 opement. There would indeed be a great deal to say upon 
 this subject : we can easily see what an influence a want of 
 appropriateness may exercise on the ensuing life. When 
 entering on the scene of things unprepared, we are the more 
 disconcerted in proportion as we have labored hitherto : we 
 are in the case of a traveller, who should receive for his 
 
PLAN OF LIFE. 313 
 
 guidance a map of a different country from that in which he 
 is to travel. But if, by a happy chance, school education 
 should have given us the most appropriate preparation, we 
 must yet do for ourselves what no instructer can do for us, 
 — we must add to it our own labor, and make up beforehand 
 a plan of conduct. By doing this well, we may even supply 
 the defects of imperfect education. 
 
 To arrange the general plan of life, we must embrace 
 the whole of our vocation at once, in a preliminary medita- 
 tion. External circumstances, that we cannot control, we 
 must accept as conditions. It requires some wisdom, how- 
 ever, to distinguish the circumstances, to which we must 
 submit, from those which we can modify or overcome. We 
 must examine, in the next place, what consequences, result- 
 ing from inevitable circumstances, are inevitable : for con- 
 sequences often differ accordingly as we check or second 
 them. We can judge, then, what is possible for us. But, 
 in accepting the necessary conditions of things, in which we 
 can change nothing, we should separate the advantao-es 
 and disadvantages, which we may turn aside or obtain. 
 Here commences what is at our free disposal. Passing 
 then to those external circumstances, which we can subject, 
 we judge better of the means of subjecting them effectually; 
 we shall see how we can act upon them, and render them 
 tributary to our progress. Thus necessity assigns to us 
 bounds within which we are placed, that we may not ex- 
 haust ourselves in a useless struggle ; and wisdom indicates 
 to our hopes the sphere in which we may exercise prudence 
 and courage. But if we cannot discern the boundaries of 
 necessity and wisdom, we shall frequently either consume 
 ourselves in agitation, fighting without necessity ; or, by an 
 unfortunate indolence, accept as necessity what we might 
 prevent or change. 
 
 Necessity has not the same extent for all men, and it 
 often happens, that its dominion is enlarged at the expense 
 of that of wisdom. Circumstances originally in our power, 
 27 
 
314 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 become necessities by means of habit ; our imprudence 
 increases the number of these chains, and we often suffer 
 for a long time the consequences of the error of a moment. 
 
 In the class of necessities, we rank all the circumstances 
 which depend upon birth, temperament ; our native country, its 
 institutions, laws, and usages ; family relations, rank in life, 
 ^c. ; also, the natural limitations of the faculties of the hu- 
 man race and of the individual. The circumstances more or 
 less under our control, are the choice of a profession, habitual 
 relations, connexions of intimacy, the employment of time, 
 the regulation of expenses, the regimen of life, the direction 
 given to our reading and conversation, &c. It will not 
 be enough that all these contribute to our improvement : all 
 these elements should harmonize with our necessary condi- 
 tion ; each should have its right place, its proper time, 
 its appropriate measure and proportion. This order will 
 greatly facilitate our progress ; for extraordinary efforts are 
 sometimes lost, for mere want of method and arrangement. 
 
 But in planning our conduct, like the general who plans 
 his campaign, we cannot foresee every thing, and it will be 
 dangerous to think we have foreseen every thing. Every 
 day the course of events will explain what was before un- 
 certain, change what existed, open an unexpected future. 
 At the principal epochs of life we ought to resume the same 
 labor, completing and rectifying our plan, according to the 
 instructions of experience and the new state of things. At 
 certain times we must look back upon our route. At these 
 times it is essential to put the past and future face to face, 
 and to make the revision and examination of the first con- 
 duce to the provisions of the second. This is the peculiar 
 office of moral meditations. We need not go to books for 
 subjects of meditation ; daily experience and self-inspection 
 indicate what are the defects and the virtues, which we 
 should take for our text, and what it is important for us to 
 consider. We might say of some preachers that they 
 seem to preach for the absent, rather than for those who 
 
PLAN OF LIFE. 315 
 
 hear them : and, in like manner, we often meditate upon 
 virtues which we are not called upon to exercise, while we 
 are on the eve of needing light and strength, which we 
 neglect to provide for ourselves. In short, our moral sur- 
 veys should be subjected to a regular method, and the 
 plans of detail should have reference to the general plan ; 
 that every day may gather the fruits of the preceding day, 
 or prepare the fruitfulness of the day that is to succeed. 
 Benjamin Franklin has given, in his Memoirs, a remarkable 
 example of the application of such a system to the conduct 
 of life. The example is the more useful, as it is accom- 
 panied by the results which its author gathered from it. 
 It has authority, in proportion to his simplicity and rectitude. 
 But we must combine this system each in his own way, 
 and according to his character and situation. There is no 
 universal archetype, which is complete, or which can be 
 used by all. Any plan is good, which is adapted to our 
 wants, if it is methodically conceived, and perseveringly 
 executed. There are two virtues, which Benjamin Frank- 
 lin did not put into his tablets, which some persons should 
 place first; — patience and self-vigilance. 
 
 The first object in a well-concerted system of conduct 
 should be the proper employment and distribution of time. 
 There have been many rules given for this : we shall add 
 but a few ; one is, to make our employments succeed each 
 other in such a way, as to aid each other reciprocally ; a 
 second is, to have a flexible plan, that is to say, such a plan, 
 that we can invert the order of exercises on sufficient oc- 
 casions; and thirdly, we should find the means of making 
 a good use of leisure. 
 
 The regular return of the same employments, has the 
 immense advantage of rendering execution easy and rapid. 
 But it is extremely inconvenient to become the slave of this 
 regularity, so that we cannot act when put out of our accus- 
 tomed place and time; and it is the more inconvenient, as 
 we are the less sure of remaining masters of our condition. 
 
316 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Order should not descend to too minute details ; it should 
 not give too much importance to the distribution of acces- 
 sories : it should not impose useless chains. These exag- 
 o-erations are inconvenient and vexatious to those who live 
 with us ; they consume the strength which real duties claim ; 
 they give to virtue something of puerility and constraint ; 
 they retard us in the moment of action. It often happens, 
 that those who superstitiously cling to these details, when 
 they are forced to change, know not where they are ; they 
 have lost all moral direction ; they are troubled, discouraged, 
 and lose the faculty of doing right. The order of the wise 
 man in life is like the order of nature in its works. If the 
 latter is bound by general laws, which are constant, it is 
 not a dry and rigorous" symmetry, where every thing is im- 
 movable; it is a hidden though perfect order, admitting 
 liberty, ease, and bending to every thing, because it can 
 foresee every thing ; it is an order which we feel and judge 
 of by its effects, but which does not fatigue the eye by a 
 scaffolding of rules ; it is, in a word, an order animated 
 and full of life. 
 
 It would be useful to consider the art of conversation as 
 a means of improvement. A considerable portion of our life 
 is sjiven to conversation, which we abandon to chance ; yet 
 there are few things, from which wisdom might draw more 
 advantage. Here, doubtless, we should guard ourselves 
 against the exaggerations of method and regularity. Con- 
 versation resists a rigorous discipline. To turn it into a 
 methodical dialogue, would be to rob it of its naturalness 
 and that truth of expression which produces communion of 
 mind and heart. But without robbing it of this character, 
 we can make it useful. Without pedantry, with modesty, 
 even with gayety, we can put in circulation true thoughts 
 and honorable sentiments. Sincere good-will serves as an 
 easy passport. And we cannot more delicately flatter, than 
 by giving others an opportunity of telling us what they know. 
 Every thing may be thrown into conversation, and every 
 
1>LAN OP LIFE. 317 
 
 thing may be gathered from it. It yields favorable occa- 
 sions to draw close the ties which unite us to others, and 
 to discover the means of serving them. The talent of con- 
 versation is a great power in the actual state of society. 
 Vanity and ambition have used it. Can we do nothing for 
 the interests of truth and virtue by means of it ? The lib- 
 eral-minded and generous can alone comprehend all the 
 privileges of speech, and draw from it the means of moral 
 conquests ; for, in order to captivate, they need only be 
 known ; in showing themselves superior, they are so natu- 
 ral, that, as they rise without effort, so they are contem- 
 plated without envy ; always simple and sincere, they en- 
 iighten and persuade by the force of their own conviction, 
 and by the ascendency of the sentiments which inspire 
 them : we feel better in their presence, because we are per- 
 mitted to sympathize with them; they are the altars where 
 our hearts are kindled and reanimated ; they exercise an 
 apostleship upon earth ; the admiration which they excite, 
 and the affections which they receive, being confounded 
 with the Vv'orship of excellence, and language from their 
 mouths becoming a celestial messenger, who announces the 
 blessings of virtue. The good, also, supply, by the influence 
 of their character, the want of a talent for conversation : 
 we listen more willingly to the unpretending, whom we do 
 not suspect of any artifice ; and the desire of being useful 
 has in itself a kind of eloquence. A talent for listening may 
 contribute to our progress, and furnish us with the means of 
 being useful. To listen to a sufferer is often the means of 
 consoling him. In the manner of listening there is something 
 which testifies good-will, and which serves to obtain it. In 
 
 i the study of mankind, the ear is what the eye is in the study 
 
 p of nature. 
 
 Such is the power order exercises over us, that the mere 
 image of order, presented in the objects around us, favors 
 meditation, disposes us to self-collectedness, moderation, 
 27* 
 
318 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 respect, and many honorable sentiments. Hence the moral 
 effect resulting from the monuments of architecture. 
 
 This powerful influence of order upon our faculties, ex- 
 plains an important observation, of which our experience 
 of the world offers a frequent application. It is this, that 
 submission to duty is a great advantage, considered merely 
 in relation to the developement of activity. Soldiers are 
 less fatigued when they march to the sound of music : man 
 in ordinary life is less fatigued when he is aided by the 
 melody of virtue. Those who have duties, have fixed 
 points, their regulators in indecision, and supplying inex- 
 haustible motives of action. He who is without duties to 
 fulfill, is often fatigued with the void and uncertainty of 
 life: he demands unceasingly "What is the object?" He 
 often becomes a burthen to himself The same action is 
 done more joyfully and satisfactorily, when we feel, in do- 
 ing it, that we do our duty. Men without duties seek to 
 supply their place with an occasional mania. 
 
 In the general plan of life, duties should form the founda- 
 tions of the edifice ; the Love of Excellence will achieve 
 the rest. 
 
 Moral progress being internal harmony, and a well-order- 
 ed life being external harmony, the one accords naturally 
 with the other : they are the picture and its frame. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 
 
 Our condition in life furnishes us the most important part 
 of the circumstances which educate us. It influences our 
 character more than all the lessons of our masters; and, 
 though independent of our will in some respects, yet it is 
 
DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS, 319 
 
 modified by our cooperation, and even by the manner in 
 which we resign ourselves to what is inevitable. 
 
 How admirable are the designs of Providence I Even the 
 inequalities of human condition may draw closer the ties of 
 humanity. Were there no moral sentiments, inequality of 
 condition might, indeed, produce too great an excitement 
 of emulation. But, as the case is, it enhances the merit of 
 probity and the virtue of contentment : it gives rise to the 
 exchange of confidence and good faith, of generosity and 
 gratitude. In the latter intercourse, especially, the benefit 
 is evidently mutual. The generous not only render impor- 
 tant services, but they receive them from the example of 
 those they benefit. Beside the affections which cannot be 
 bought, they receive the most necessary instruction : — les- 
 sons of patience and of fortitude, and the sublime knowl- 
 edge which springs from adversity. Ignorant of life, in the 
 presence of misfortune we learn to understand it ; ignorant 
 of our own hearts, the sight of the unfortunate reveals them 
 to us. But in order to measure and appreciate the means of 
 moral progress, afforded by the different conditions of life, let 
 us consider the means of doing good, which each of them 
 offers. 
 
 The usefulness of services is different for those who render 
 and those who receive them, and it varies according to their 
 nature and extent. Services, rendered from compulsion, may 
 corrupt the receiver by the temptation to pride, and degrade 
 him who renders them by placing him in dependence. This 
 ganger increases for the former in proportion as the services 
 are more important, and for the latter, as the object of them 
 is sordid. Voluntary services, on the contrary, render the 
 one party disinterested, and the other grateful. Services 
 of a moral and intellectual nature contribute to the progress 
 of those that render them, by developing activity of mind, 
 as well as by drawing more closely the ties which unite 
 men. We learn better and learn anew what we teach to 
 others ; and are more deeply penetrated with the Love of 
 
320 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Excellence, when endeavouring to inspire others with it. 
 But what snares does not pride spread for those who may 
 serve others in this elevated sphere ! How much must they 
 guard against the love of power, and a want of indulgence ! 
 How carefully should they avoid believing themselves better 
 than others! Services, which have a more material charac- 
 ter, degrade the condition of those who render them, and 
 only serve as a nourishment to the selfishness of those who 
 receive them. Services, rendered to a single individual^ 
 may consist with a most lively affection, but often suppose a 
 dependence which threatens dignity of character. Services', 
 rendered to a whole community, have something in them most 
 noble, but it is more rarely that they are rightly appreciated. 
 
 Two other views present themselves, together with the 
 preceding, which concur with them in determining the 
 influence of the social relations on our improvement; one 
 consists of the wants they excite in us, the other in the 
 obstacles they oppose to us. Every want may become a 
 principle of activity, or a cause of dependence, as it is more 
 or less hostile or generous, more or less pure or gross. If 
 the obstacles oppose moral developements, they will doubt- 
 less be unfortunate ; but if they only oppose the pretensions 
 of selfishness, though they may irritate the passions, they 
 will favor virtue; — if they are of a nature that they ought 
 to be, or can be, surmounted, they will 'exercise our cour- 
 age, and strengthen Self-government. 
 
 But, and it is this which it is of importance above all to 
 impress deeply upon our minds, whatever may be the dan- 
 ger or the advantage of our situation in society, there is none 
 so unfavorable that we cannot obtain from it the means of 
 becoming better, none so favorable but that in it we may 
 morally perish. Our destiny is really in our own hands. The 
 study of the advantages and disadvantages of different con- 
 ditions is useful, however, to guide us, when, as is sometimes 
 the case, we can choose our condition ; and to assist us in 
 reaping all its advantages, when we cannot do so. 
 
DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 321 
 
 In general, where the greatest aids are found, the great- 
 est dangers also are found, and the greatest duties. What 
 are, in truth, the superior conditions of society, if there is 
 not a mission conferred upon them, for the benefit of soci- 
 ety itself? This is no less evident as regards those who are 
 endowed with the gifts of fortune, than as regards those 
 who are gifted with rank and power. Both are called to 
 exercise patronage and fulfill a sort of guardianship. It is 
 not suflicient for the former to make their authority subser- 
 vient to the benefit of all. Because they are the strongest, 
 they owe support and protection to the feeble ; because they 
 are more elevated, they owe the instruction of good example 
 to all. It is not enough for the rich to be beneficent ; they 
 must serve as instruments for the developement and diffusion 
 of useful things. The superior classes rise above society, 
 like the clouds above the earth, to diffuse an abundant dew. 
 What noble and beautiful duties, what a magnificent pre- 
 rogative has been assigned them by Providence ! The illu- 
 sions of vanity, the selfishness of power and sensuality, the 
 fatal error which would lead them to appropriate to them- 
 selves the favors of fortune, which they only receive as a 
 trust, these are their dangers ! The absence of obstacles, 
 the facility of obtaining every thing, — these may still more 
 increase their dangers. They may become weak, because 
 nothing resists them. More than ordinary virtue is there- 
 fore nesessary to them. Among their supports, the first 
 rank is due to their remarkable opportunities for doing 
 good ; for nothing has so restoring an effect as the exercise 
 of generosity. In giving, we learn to love ; in aiding others, 
 we become strong. Knowledge also gathers, from all parts, 
 around him who is placed in an elevated situation. He has 
 leisure to cultivate his faculties ; he embraces a more ex- 
 tended horizon ; elegance of manners, and the habits of 
 high life, tend to cherish in him nobleness of feeling; the 
 attention of which he is the object, invites him to merit 
 love by real claims of consideration and esteem. Every 
 
322 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 thing, even to the luxuries of the arts, surrounding him with 
 images of beauty, favors the principle of generous emotions, 
 if he will but allow these impressions to penetrate his soul. 
 
 But the most general condition of man, mediocrity of 
 rank and fortune, offers the most security, giving support 
 and counsel, and imposing moderation upon desire. In 
 this double relation, it favors calmness and internal free- 
 dom. Its obscurity withdraws us from the yoke of opinion : 
 simplicity is its natural inheritance. Men in this condi- 
 tion, practising their virtues without opportunity for display, 
 less frequently find their motives corrupted by the desire of 
 praise and popularity ; they have more regard for morality, 
 lor the laws, for the lawful authority of which the general 
 interest is constantly the object. They are strong by lean- 
 ing upon the limits which circumscribe them. Their activity 
 is constantly excited by the view of what may be acquired ; 
 perseverance is supported by the slowness of the progress 
 possible. They understand justice, because they under- 
 stand equality: they enjoy sympathy. The social relations 
 allow them more freedom and self-forgetfulness : — in ele- 
 vated situations there is isolation, in equality, union. The 
 affections of individuals are more intimate, as situations are 
 similar, and there is more in common. In a word, mediocrity 
 has the advantage of profiting by universal experience, and 
 having no untrodden paths to attempt; with the honors, it 
 escapes the dangers of the privileged classes. Mediocrity 
 has, however, its disadvantages. It encloses us in a circle, 
 whose uniformity and monotony favor blind habits of routine 
 and a deadness of the active powers. It places us on a 
 stage where similarity of situations and conformity of move- 
 ments dispose to servile imitation. Leading constantly to 
 details, it exposes us to give them too much importance, and, 
 by contracting the view of the mind, it may indirectly lower 
 the tone of sentiment. Thus wisdom, which recommends 
 us to accept with content the limits which mediocrity im- 
 poses on us, recommends us also to give to our souls inde- 
 
DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 323 
 
 pendence and nobleness, by the exercise of virtue, even in 
 those circumstances which seem least favorable. 
 
 In proportion as we descend to the inferior conditions, 
 we see that the sphere of existence for each individual con- 
 tracts, privations and restraints increase, and external aid 
 becomes less abundant. Knowledge, one of the most pre 
 cious aids, especially diminishes ; and duties, though they 
 become more austere, become also more simple : and though 
 what is required of us is more difficult, the law of relative 
 progress requires fewer things. A courageous patience is 
 required in that situation, whose circumstances tend to pro- 
 duce it. Some of the knowledge which is wanting would 
 perhaps augment the bitterness of destiny ; the experience 
 of adversity, which is the most important to progress, is not 
 wanting, and from this m.ay be acquired a science, which 
 can be obtained from no master or book. Though many 
 advantages are refused, those which belong to laborious 
 habits are not wanting ; and fruits may be gathered from 
 these, by attention and care. 
 
 Happy is he^ who has known from youth the rigor of for- 
 tune ! He was prepared for the hardships of life in this moral 
 gymnasium ; he was familiarized early with serious ideas ; 
 he had a glimpse of th« secrets of human destiny ; his vir- 
 tues took profound root; in short, he received a manly ed- 
 ucation. Gradually admitted to a happier situation, he will 
 be less exposed to be corrupted ; he will be better disposed 
 to make it fruitful for others as well as for himself; he has 
 learned to have a fellow-feeling with misfortune. And such 
 is the natural progress of things, that the laborious and 
 economical man will advance gradually to competence, un- 
 less crossed by unforeseen accidents. 
 
 The alternation of success and reverse is useful. We 
 complain of the inconstancy of fortune, but its constancy 
 would corrupt us more. Success and reverse enlighten us 
 by their contrast : judging better of events we understand 
 how to resist them, and hovv to make them serve our pur- 
 poses. 
 
324 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Could similar considerations be equally applied to the 
 various professions of life, they would form, by their devel- 
 opement, a new branch of the economical sciences. We 
 should see on the one hand what aid each profession brings, 
 or what obstacles it opposes to moral progress, and the 
 means of rendering this aid more efficacious, and of over- 
 coming these obstacles : we should see on the other hand 
 how the moral progress of individuals gives to every profes- 
 sion the highest degree of usefulness, and makes it con- 
 tribute to the general prosperity ; and hence, we should 
 come to the result, that good books and good examples, 
 which develope in society patience, perseverance, probity, 
 method, and other virtues, count among the means by which 
 the common treasury is augmented, quite as much as ma- 
 chines, and mechanical arts, although political economists 
 do not deign to accord a place in their calculations to moral 
 principles. In recognising that man is the principal instru- 
 ment in every production, and that he is governed by mo- 
 tives and the light of reason, we should come to the func-^ 
 tions of the moral agent. It is true, that these views, prop- 
 erly treated, would change the basis of many theories, and 
 contradict more than one system. 
 
 The generally admitted distinction between the libera] 
 and mechanical professions is not so decided in reality as 
 it at first appears, for even in those which require essen- 
 tially labor of mind, there is almost always a concurrence of 
 mechanical operations ; and in those which are composed 
 essentially of manual labor, there is almost always some 
 participation of intelligence ; while between these two ex- 
 tremes the two elements are combined in every different 
 proportion. But by means of the multiplication and progress 
 of the mechanical powers, the mechanical professions are 
 every day approaching the liberal professions; and man, 
 learning that the part which belongs to him in the operations 
 of industry, consists in directing, recovers his dignity in 
 the exercise of his faculties, and becomes, at the same time, 
 a more useful asrent. 
 
DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 325 
 
 The more the mind is exercised in our profession, what- 
 ever it may be, the better it is for our moral progress ; indi- 
 vidual dignity is better preserved ; we feel more our inde- 
 pendence ; our active faculties take a higher flight ; being 
 more enlightened, we feel called upon to become better : we 
 also find ourselves more wise ; and all favors seem reserved 
 to these beautiful applications of human activity. IJut with 
 these advantages, there is always danger of abuse. The 
 seductions of vanity, and the passion for success, seek and 
 seize their victims. The balance which ought to be pre- 
 served between the intellect and the heart, is easily destroy- 
 ed, when the directions of wisdom do not constantly come 
 to reestablish it. The generous affections ought then to 
 keep pace with intellectual activity. Nothing is more 
 fatal than talent devoted to the service of selfishness. 
 
 But the liberal professions ought to be discriminated, in 
 their turn, according to the kind of direction, which they 
 tend to give to the intellectual faculties. Some especially 
 favor vivacity of imagination, others the habit of specula- 
 tion, or the spirit of observation, and thus react upon the 
 culture of sensibility, or the developement of moral disposi- 
 tions. A moral manual for artists, for example, would be 
 filled with warnings against exaltation, restlessness of char- 
 acter, and passion for applause. A moral manual for phy- 
 sicians, would be filled with observations upon the art of 
 consoling and encouraging those who suffer ; upon the dis- 
 cretion which is due in return for confidence; upon the 
 precautions to be taken, lest the habitual sight of suffering 
 should stifle sensibility. How many indications would a 
 moral manual for the bar contain, upon the manner of enno- 
 bling and enlarging, by counsel, zeal, and disinterestedness, 
 the assistance afforded to clients : how many observations 
 would it contain upon the scrupulous observance of the rules 
 of equity, upon the care which should be taken, lest arms 
 are lent to the passions ! Would not manuals for men of 
 letters also be useful, teaching them to preserve themselves 
 28 
 
3*26 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 from the tyranny of self-love, from dryness of heart, from 
 the susceptibilities and animosities that too often spring 
 out of rival pretensions ? Lastly, would not a manual 
 for philosophers be useful, containing antidotes against 
 pride, prescriptions for good faith, simplicity, severity, and 
 distrust of themselves, indulgence towards others, and in 
 which should continually be repeated the [truth, that, in 
 the science of wisdom, the practice of excellence is the first 
 source of light? 
 
 In classing the professions, as we sometimes do, accord- 
 ing to the false ideas of the world, discriminating those that 
 are paid from those that are not, we seek a basis which 
 has no reality. Whoever turns the fruits of his industry 
 into the exchanges which compose general commerce, re- 
 ceives pay ; that is to say, the just return for that which he 
 delivers, whatever may be the name that he gives to it. 
 There are only two exceptions to this universal condition; 
 the one concerns those, who have the happiness of being 
 able to give gratuitously (without accepting any return) 
 every thing they put into circulation ; and this first excep- 
 tion is very rare : the other concerns those who do not con- 
 duce in any way by their own industry to the common wel- 
 fare, but who, however honored by the prejudices of the world, 
 only consume without producing. From the highest public 
 officer to the most humble day-laborer, all in effect receive 
 pay. It is not pay which can humble or degrade us ; but 
 the spirit in which it is sought and received, in venal in- 
 tentions, cupidity, servility of character. In this neces- 
 sity, which the constitution of society and the nature of 
 things imposes upon us, of receiving pay for labor, we are 
 continually instructed, that it is our destiny to serve man- 
 kind, either as a community, or as individuals. 
 
 In some professions, however, the compensation attached 
 to industry is more immediate, sensible, and frequently pre- 
 sented. It is necessary, in those professions, to guard 
 against the deleterious influence of sordid views. Interested 
 
DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 327 
 
 motives contract the ideas, and freeze the heart. In vain this 
 shameful motive seeks to raise itself in its own eyes, by the 
 extent of its calculations ; the passion for gold acting upon 
 a wider theatre, only produces greater ravages. A moral 
 manual, destined for professions in which pecuniary inter- 
 ests are perpetually put in play, would recommend the exer- 
 cises that bring generous sentiments to bear against the 
 contagion of cupidity : it would indicate how equity in 
 transactions should be preserved by good faith, or ennobled 
 by delicacy ; how in the employment of wealth, the influ- 
 ence that springs from the means of acquiring it may be 
 counterbalanced. 
 
 In the professions which are calm and sedentary, whose 
 operations are uniform, which are sheltered from the storms 
 of passion, which afford facilities for regularity of life, it is 
 necessary to guard against a moral lethargy, and habits 
 which reduce existence to a sort of vegetation. In the 
 professions, which are tumultuous and agitated, carrying us 
 constantly into new scenes, fruitful in enjoyment, putting in 
 play the active faculties, oifering occasions of exercising 
 the most varied virtues, and protecting us against routine, 
 we should guard against the distraction which dissipates 
 thought and sentiment, and against restlessness and incon- 
 stancy of character; we should be armed with a severe 
 self-vigilance. 
 
 Some professions have narrow prospects, are little subject 
 to chance, and hardly promise any advancement ; protecting 
 moderation, exercising perseverance, patience, and some- 
 limes resignation. Others are placed among dangers and 
 hopes, fruitful in emotions, powerfully exciting ardor of will? 
 and energy of character. In the first we should guard against 
 dejection, discouragement, apathy of heart ; and create for 
 ourselves a future by the aflections. In the second, we 
 should avoid rival jealousies, and preserve equanimity of 
 soul. In the first, the Love of Excellence should be sup- 
 ported against lethargic influences; in the second, by means 
 
328 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 of Self-government, the seductions of fortune should be 
 opposed by moderate desires. 
 
 Some professions put us in contact with things ; others 
 especially in connexion with men. In the first kind of pro- 
 fessions, it is useful to consider what sort of objects we come 
 in contact with, whether we are surrounded with images 
 sad or agreeable, harmonious or discordant, noble or mean, 
 elegant or gross, austere or voluptuous : also, all the influ- 
 ence, however slight, that may be exerted upon our moral 
 habits; and what care may be taken, lest we enervate, de- 
 base, or corrupt ourselves, and how we may gather what 
 may conduce to our elevation and purity of character. We 
 should also consider the extent of our own power over 
 things ; for method, and the habit of application, are pre- 
 served by processes, which have the character of regularity, 
 and are subjected to the rules of art and the genius of combi- 
 nations. The sense of our own dignity, also, is preserved by 
 the power which we exercise over matter, and the boldness 
 of the transformations which we constrain it to undergo. 
 Views of general utility are more habitually presented in the 
 professions which have most connexion with the common 
 prosperity : in these we find most occasions of cultivating 
 elevation of sentiment. We have often remarked, that 
 habitual communication with animals produces a sort of 
 grossness of manners, — that the frequent sight and effusion 
 of blood disposes to hardness ; and the first of these obser- 
 vations may explain why our country people resemble so 
 little those of pastoral poetry. Places in which we habitually 
 reside, the objects we constantly see, secretly influence the 
 dispositions of our mind and heart. The grave, simple, seri- 
 ous manners of mariners, doubtless arise in part from their 
 familiarity with danger, but partly from the imposing spec- 
 tacle of a vast and uniform object. The artificial elegance, 
 which luxury displays in our dwellings, does not cherish 
 the same dispositions as the grace and majesty of nature. 
 The obscure and sombre asylum of misery redoubles sadness 
 
DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 329 
 
 and discouragement by the images it presents. Those who 
 have written on preserving health, have spoken of the influ- 
 ence exercised upon health by the habit of prolonging sleep 
 during the day, and keeping awake during the ni2jht. This 
 habit no less influences the dispositions of the mind and 
 heart, leaving less freshness, simplicity, naturalness, and 
 calmness to the faculties of the soul. Moralists recommend 
 and with reason, habits of propriety and decency with 
 respect to the body, which serves as a transient habitation to 
 the immortal soul ; these habits of order should be observed 
 even in poverty ; they keep alive the sentiment of order, and 
 preserve self-respect. 
 
 The relations in which the professions may place us with 
 other men, are those of equality, superiority, or dependence. 
 The relations of equality are more favorable to the affections, 
 to confidence, to the sentiments of justice, they continue 
 through life the numerous advantages that infancy gathers 
 from a common education : but they expose us to hostile 
 passions, and the inevitable shock of rivalries. In a situa- 
 tion which gives us superiors, we should guard ourselves 
 against servility and against irritation. In our relations 
 with inferiors, we should be provided with equity, sweetness, 
 and indulgence. The more dependence is undefined, the 
 more it puff's up him for whose benefit it is established, and 
 debases him who is subjected to it. But when dependence 
 is founded upon the nature of an operation which requires a 
 concurrence of efforts, and consequently distribution and 
 organization, when he who presides is a chief rather than a 
 master, and his functions are determined by a common in- 
 terest, obedience and command are better explained, being 
 better limited, and are less liable to wound and discourage in- 
 feriors, or to flatter the passions of those who give directions. 
 It is still to be considered whether our profession puts us 
 in relation with what is estimable in men, or with their 
 passions. In the first case, intercourse offers useful encour- 
 agement ; in the second, it exposes to a fatal contagion. 
 28* 
 
330 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Some professions rest upon confidence, and their success 
 depends upon the extent of the confidence accorded to those 
 who exercise them : such professions ofier continual encour- 
 agement to qualities of character which merit esteem. Why 
 have our blind and frivolous prejudices attempted to dis- 
 honor certain professions, which have in them nothing im- 
 moral ? Those who are condemned by us to render this 
 kind of service, humiliated by us, or perhaps degraded in 
 their own eyes, hence more easily become despicable. In 
 the professions which associate us with others, we should 
 consider whether the association favors the spirit of union, 
 always so precious, or V esprit de corps, often so fatal ; and 
 what direction it may give to this last. 
 
 In public life are displayed the most brilliant qualities of 
 character. It is the school for strength of character, reflec- 
 tive courage, elevation and generosity of sentiment ; at least 
 with those, who are penetrated with the duties that it im- 
 poses, and who are on their guard against ambition. But 
 it opens a career to the most vehement passions, and renders 
 them more dangerous, as it offers precepts to justify, means 
 to disguise, and often fatal success to recompense them. A 
 good moral manual for public men would be a benefit to the 
 whole of society, if read, meditated upon, and followed. 
 
 Whenever institutions strengthen the ties, which attach 
 the eitizen to his country, founding laws upon equity, and 
 regulating the exercise of power by laws, each individual 
 comprehends better the community of interests and the re- 
 ciprocation of duties, drawing from the sentiments of patri- 
 otism the aliment of virtuous affections, and from an enlight- 
 ened submission to laws and magistrates, useful light upon 
 morality; hence activity is displayed, talent emboldened, 
 souls are elevated, ideas are extended. Strong and gener- 
 ous institutions are the schools of great characters ; but they 
 require a soil prepared for them : they cannot grow upon ve- 
 nal intentions, lust of pleasure, and calculations of self-inter- 
 est. Under such institutions the moral progress of individ- 
 
DIFFERFNT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 331 
 
 uals, and the general progress of society correspond to each 
 other, and lend mutual aid. Since these institutions have 
 for their vital principle the protection assured to the gener- 
 al interest, the education of a public man should consist in 
 the exercises of entire disinterestedness, and he would find 
 in his functions, when faithful to their spirit, a constant 
 exercise of justice and benevolence. The sentiment of the 
 public good is one of the most powerful antidotes against the 
 selfish passions, against every thing which materializes or 
 degrades the character. There is, then, a tie more strict 
 than we imagine between public and private virtue ; they 
 have a common source. A purified morality alone creates 
 that political conscience, which is too rare; which sacrifi- 
 ces to the good of all, individual selfishness in all its forms ; 
 for it alone teaches the citizen to proclaim and exercise his 
 rights as a consequence of his duties, the magistrate to 
 consider his authority as a message confided to him by so- 
 ciety, the delegate of the people to recognise in legal author- 
 ity a necessary pledge, the delegate of power to recognise 
 in collective or individual rights a deposit, which he is 
 charged to protect, and all public men to despise and brave 
 the will of faction, and to guard themselves from the party 
 spirit, which corrupts patriotism, agitates opinion, adulter- 
 ates character, and becomes a source of intolerance and 
 injustice. 
 
 Many of the professions have manuals prepared to guide 
 them in the operations of art. Moral manuals w^ould indi- 
 cate the duties which belong particularly to each profession, 
 the manner of fulfilling them, and the advantages to be 
 drawn from their fulfillment. Thus each one may take a 
 more just, and, at the same time, a more elevated idea of 
 his condition, considering it as a means of accomplishing 
 his destiny as a human being, of becoming better and more 
 useful to others. The different professions, like different 
 nations, have each its peculiar physiognomy, manners, 
 habits, customs, relations, even language. The comic 
 
332 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 writers have seized upon these to ridicule them ; the mor- 
 alist might gather and promulgate the code of duties, which 
 are peculiar to each of the professions. To the industrious 
 professions, for instance, he would speak of method, activi- 
 ty, vigilance, prudence, faithfulness, delicacy ; warning the 
 heart against dryness, the mind against the narrow views, 
 which spring from habits of calculation, intercourse with 
 material things, and the debate of pecuniary interests. To 
 the chief of an establishment he would speak of benevo- 
 lence and protection towards dependents, the examples to be 
 offered to them, and the manner in which family spirit 
 may be diffused, where we now see only the exchange of 
 labor and salary. If he should address himself to the pro- 
 fessions, which are in daily communication with the public, 
 how many grand views he could present of the manner of 
 obtaining and justifying confidence, by discretion, devotion 
 fidelity ; of the moral influences, which, in these relations 
 can be indirectly spread abroad or received ; of the volun- 
 tary assistance which zeal can join to necessary services ! 
 If he should address himself, lastly, to those humble, obscure 
 dependent professions, which our prejudices have degraded 
 with what tender solicitude, with what eager interest would 
 he endeavour to elevate in their own eyes those who exer- 
 cise them ! What a reception he would give to those dis- 
 graced beings. How he would love to encourage them ! 
 He would show them how all their functions are ennobled 
 by the sentiment of duty, how merit is measured by sacrifice, 
 how loftiness of soul may be reconciled with exterior depen- 
 dence, how virtue is more prized when under the veil of ob- 
 scurity ; he would discover to them a treasury of the affec- 
 tions, joy, and hope.* 
 
 * When we consider that the persons employed in our domestic service 
 are confided to our protection, under a moral relation, — when we reflect 
 upon the influence that their character and habits may exercise over our 
 children, we cannot be sufiiciently astonished at our culpable negligence 
 of their improvement, of the indifference with which our public institutions 
 
LABOR. 333 
 
 One of the most essential rules for drawing from our con- 
 dition all its moral fruits, for guarding ourselves from its 
 peculiar dangers, is to conform our sentiments, habits, and 
 views to our condition. We should guard ourselves, how- 
 ever, from misunderstanding this maxim, as condemning to 
 servility of character the unfortunate. In the most humble 
 condition, elevation of soul is the more necessary and de- 
 sirable. 
 
 We need not fear that it would break the ties of subordi- 
 nation, or trouble the social hierarchy. True elevation of 
 soul teaches contentment in adversity and obscurity. Your 
 servant may be your superior in moral character and prac- 
 tical virtue, but he will therefore only fulfill more constantly 
 his duty towards you, and observe more exactly the consid- 
 eration due to you. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LABOR. 
 
 When we consider that labor is the condition to which 
 most men are subjected, we are powerfully drawn to medi- 
 tate upon a subject so much connected with our earthly 
 destiny. At first sight, the philosophic friend of humanity 
 is saddened at the view of so much fatigue ; especially when 
 considering the kind of labors that form the general task, 
 so monotonous, apparently so barren for the mind and heart. 
 He asks with surprise, if this being, bent to the earth, or 
 exercising himself in a workshop, and almost assimilated to 
 mechanical instruments, is truly the immortal being, of 
 
 and private usages appear to regard them. How little, for example, have 
 we thought of preparing them, by a suitable education, for a kind of func- 
 tions which demands such special qualities. 
 
334 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 whose noble origin and august vocation he has conceived ; 
 he demands how such a state of things can be reconciled 
 with the dignity of our nature ; how moral progress can be 
 possible to those who seem condemned to a life wholly ani- 
 mal ; he asks if, in the high ideas he has formed of the 
 designs of Providence concerning man, he has not been led 
 away by beautiful but chimerical illusions. 
 
 No ; he has not presumed too much upon the destination 
 and dignity of man, or the hopes of improvement which are 
 offered to him. Labor, if we see all the extent of its effects, 
 far from destroying, confirms these views of wisdom. 
 
 Man while here below is on all sides in contact, it is 
 true, with material nature, depending upon it by his ear- 
 liest wants, subjected to it by means of the impressions 
 of his senses. But, by labor, material nature is subdued, 
 conquered, transformed; the invisible powers of air and 
 water are seized, and governed, and rendered fruitful; and 
 man raises upon earth the immense monument which the 
 arts of civilization have constructed for the use of human 
 society. Thus the obscure labor of a simple individual 
 takes a new character. But it may have still more extend- 
 ed efTects. From this competence, this general prosperity, 
 which the process of labor brings about, spring knowledge 
 and all the moral influences developed by the social rela- 
 tions. The labor of the many procures for some, leisure for 
 meditation ; and the fruits of these meditations serve as 
 moral aliment to the many, conducing to their improvement 
 and happiness. Thus each one, by his labor, besides pro- 
 ducing what is necessary for his physical existence, concurs 
 also, indirectly, in providing the useful knowledge, in which, 
 in many ways, he participates. 
 
 Thus, every thing, in the constitution and movements of 
 society, may be referred to labor : it is the universal lever 
 of the power of man over nature, the source of every pro- 
 duction. In this relation, every kind of labor acquires a 
 character of nobleness, being elevated to the dignity of 
 
LABOR. 335 
 
 virtue, becoming the fulfillment of a universal duty, and 
 being converted into a contribution to society, to which 
 we owe so much of what we are. We are too much accus- 
 tomed to seek virtue only in extraordinary and brilliant ac- 
 tions, in something out of the common course. But we 
 should seek it in the most common actions that Providence 
 has made a part of our destination. We should make it 
 the very substance of our life, nor allow self-love to corrupt 
 our notions of excellence. Labor is a virtue ; and this 
 cheering thought changes entirely the point of view, under 
 which man's destiny here below presents itself: for it is a 
 virtue which is the patrimony of all, and especially of the 
 most obscure, the most numerous, and the least favored by 
 fortune. It is a virtue, which consecrates innumerable un- 
 rewarded, unknown labors, which are even disdained by 
 the world, though they are a contribution to the general 
 prosperity. It is a virtue which impresses a moral character 
 on occupations in appearance wholly material ; a virtue 
 giving merit to actions that fill the largest part of our life, 
 and which otherwise would have been done from mere ne- 
 cessity, a virtue giving elevated motives for what we must 
 at any rate do. The miner, buried in the earth, striking 
 the rock with his hammer, and seeming rather to suffer 
 punishment, than exercise industry, sees his existence re- 
 animated, embellished by this cheering truth. A light, 
 purer than the day-light of which he is deprived, shines 
 into his subterranean cavern ; he cheerfully resumes the 
 instrument, which had fallen from his discouraged hands, 
 and says, " And I also accomplish a sacred law, imposed by 
 my creator ! For me also, life is the novitiate of a higher 
 destiny! " This ''working-day world" becomes a temple, 
 whence arises the concert of a universal hymn, the hymn of 
 submission to the supreme decree. Thus man raises his 
 brow with a just loftiness. The creature of God is not left 
 with a withered heart and broken spirit. Is it not even the 
 work of creation that his hand adorns and brings to perfec- 
 
336 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 tion 1 Is he not accomplishing the designs of the Creator? 
 Is it not the great edifice of society, which he helps to raise? 
 What a hidden value he discovers under these gross appear- 
 ances ! This victory, gained over external nature, becomes 
 the image and the emblem of the wise and sublime victory 
 that should be gained over the senses and passions. The 
 first labor also disposes the soul to the second. 
 
 In labor there is a moral mystery, profound and serious ; 
 it is a fundamental and necessary means of education for 
 every individual. 
 
 A fixed and regular occupation is indispensable to man. 
 It prevents the disorder into which he is thrown by his 
 impatience to move, combined with the uncertainty of his 
 movements ; it relieves him from ennui ; it prevents his 
 strength from being perhaps destroyed ; it preserves activity 
 by regulating it and guarding it from error. Labor subjects 
 the senses to a salutary regimen ; it teaches them, that they 
 are not only instruments of enjoyment, but organs of action, 
 and means of useful production. It is the school of sobri- 
 ety and temperance, preventing and appeasing the storms of 
 imagination, dissipating vain delusions, turning us from 
 vague reveries, leading us back to reality, and giving au- 
 thority to the teachings of practice. Exercises of labor 
 cultivate attention by the application they demand, and con- 
 strain us to practise perseverance, precision, method, and to 
 enter into the secrets of method and perseverance, secrets so 
 important to the wholeof our conduct. Labor restrains those 
 secret desires, whose unregulated impetuosity would not be 
 perhaps suihciently prevented by mere reason ; thus assist- 
 ing wisdom to preserve moderation, and with it, inward 
 peace, the balance of the faculties, and the health of the 
 soul. 
 
 Under the protection of serious and regular habits of 
 labor, man tastes more security, being better defended 
 against the passions; his feebleness finding a refuge, his 
 effeminacy a remedy. Constrained to master himself 
 
LABOR. 337 
 
 continually, struggling habitually with difficulties, suffering 
 privation, especially of liberty, he is strengthened daily, and 
 in proportion as these labors are painful, his will becomes 
 powerful ; and by patience he acquires the vigor, which ren- 
 ders him capable of perseverance. And in fact, the labo- 
 rious, in inferior conditions, notwithstanding our disdainful 
 prejudices, experience, generally, a sense of dignity, inward, 
 peaceful, silent, unsuspected by the world, undiscovered by 
 the superficial observer, but well known to those who can 
 obtain their confidence ; they nourish a secret disdain 
 for those, who, in the bosom of luxury, lead a life of indo- 
 lence. 
 
 Labor is the school of resignation ; it teaches us our depen- 
 dence, and consequently our duties to others ; it corrects and 
 punishes our vanity^ and constitutes a long, continued com- 
 mentary on that leading truth, which defines human life as 
 a great probation and a high preparation. 
 
 Labor being the clearest and most legitimate origin of 
 property, the laboring classes best understand the respect 
 due to property, and, consequently, an important branch of 
 the notions of justice. Accustomed to see in the advan- 
 tages of life a merited recompense, they are generally friends 
 of order ; the order of society being instituted to protect the 
 labor of each, and to assure to him the products of his labor. 
 
 In fulfilling this modest but continual duty of labor, man 
 forms the most just ideas of virtue, and conceives its true 
 essence, under three principal relations. Practising it as 
 a severe regimen for restraining and repressing his ambition, 
 he becomes convinced, that excellence is not founded upon 
 opinion, or the applause of men, but is a reality ; that it is 
 an ordinary, equal, constant thing ; that it ought to occupy 
 every day, hour, instant of our life ; that our soul ought to 
 respire it, as the body respires air ; and thus he discovers 
 the most magnificent prerogative of our nature, that of con- 
 secrating his existence to duty, by submitting through free 
 29 
 
338 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 will and reflection to the destiny marked out for him by his 
 Creator. 
 
 These considerations receive new consequence, when 
 applied to the rural labors which are the habitual occupa- 
 tion of the larger part of the human race. The life of the 
 husbandman is a true moral education, if he knows how to 
 gather the instruction which it affords : the variety of his 
 cares, the productions which recompense his efforts, the 
 regularity of the phenomena of which he is a witness, the 
 different circumstances which call him to reflect upon the 
 utility of order, of economy, of foresight, his need of other 
 men, even when loaded with the gifts of nature, the mag- 
 nificent scenes constantly presented to his eyes, the testimo- 
 nies of the goodness and wisdom of the Creator to be gath- 
 ered up on every side, the great harmony of creation dis- 
 played around him ; all these are lessons, and what lessons ! 
 
 But all means of progress have efficacy, only as we avail 
 ourselves of them ; and labor is in this respect like all the 
 others. We are not considering whether we actually draw 
 from it the utility it offers ; but whether we might draw 
 utility from labor. The husbandman can hardly render an 
 account of these influences ; but he will receive an insensi- 
 ble and general influence, unless he condemns himself by a 
 sort of voluntary degradation to an existence wholly mate- 
 rial. It belongs to him to convert his humble cabin into a 
 peaceful sanctuary of virtue. 
 
 Labor not only directly contributes in various ways to our 
 moral improvement, but virtuous habits, in their turn, ren- 
 der labor more easy and more productive ; a truth which is 
 not less important, nor less delightful. The workmen who 
 accompany their labor with their song, labor more easily on 
 account of their serenity ; and it is the same with the labor 
 accompanied by the secret satisfaction of a good conscience ; 
 this internal melody gives a still more powerful charm. 
 Who counts the fatigue of to-day, if he expects a large re- 
 muneration to-night, if he can promise himself a holiday 
 
PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 339 
 
 to-morrow 1 Virtue joins a constant remuneration to labor, 
 and promises a magnificent morrow ! The burden becomes 
 lighter, when the mind is serene and the heart content. 
 We are more active and strong, when we wish to accom- 
 plish a good action. The method and perseverance, which 
 labor requires, are not so difficult to those who are patient 
 and subject to order ; and, if this is so in simple mechani- 
 cal operations, what will it be in those labors that require 
 the concurrence of the faculties of the soul 1 Let us, then, 
 embrace labor as a duty, since, by this adherence to the 
 views of Providence, we render its weight more easy to sup- 
 port, and its fruits more abundant. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 
 
 Labor is not, however, without some charm. The reg- 
 ular exercise of activity gives it an attraction, which makes it 
 almost become a want. The indolent give themselves to man- 
 ual labor, merely to be delivered from the weight of inactivity. 
 The most of our diversions are in imitation of labor, being 
 only labor deprived of a serious end. Labor, besides, pro- 
 duces the pleasures and joys of repose, which is a privilege 
 exclusively reserved to it. And pleasure, on the other hand, 
 is elevated by labor, which gives to it the character of a 
 recompense. 
 
 Nature is pleased to recommend to us, by the charm of 
 enjoyment, what is useful to us. But this charm belongs 
 to repose, only during those intervals of labor in which it is 
 necessary to repair the strength. It ceases, and gives place 
 to ennui, when repose is anticipated, or prolonged without 
 measure. 
 
340 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Nature, like a provident mother, not only invites us, by 
 the attraction of pleasure, to seek out what will satisfy our 
 wants, but, with an amiable and tender solicitude, she has 
 also sown under our feet a multitude of innocent pleasures, 
 which we too often disdain to enjoy, although they are gra- 
 tuitously yielded. On all sides there are elegant forms, 
 graceful shades, sweet harmonies and perfumes ; the earth 
 is clothed with fruits and flowers, the heavens are stretched 
 out like a magnificent tent; the air which we breathe seems 
 to be life itself; a vast banquet is prepared every day, to 
 which man is invited. These pleasures are served up with 
 a liberality so sincere, as to require no effort ; they are offer- 
 ed most especially to that most numerous class of society, 
 which is least favored by fortune, and they demand only a 
 little attention and a calm disposition. These pleasures 
 are the more precious in that they are common, even 
 universal : they are the more salutary, as they are limited 
 within the bounds of moderation : they are inexhaustible, 
 as their variety is infinite ; and as they succeed each other, 
 they constantly reappear with the charm of novelty. Is it 
 possible not to recognise in these dispensations the manifest 
 design of a beneficent Providence ? Do they not imply that 
 the Creator of all things not only permits his feeble creature 
 to enjoy happiness here below, but in a manner enjoins 
 upon him to repose himself in happiness ? In assigning to 
 these innocent pleasures a place in the framework of our 
 destiny, he has almost promoted them to the rank of duties. 
 In accepting the refreshment allowed us, we learn also to 
 bless Providence ; the peaceful smile of contentment ex- 
 presses gratitude. It would be a false wisdom which would 
 reject these intentions of the Supreme Benefactor. By the 
 natural course of things, we shall have conflicts enough to 
 sustain, sacrifices enough to make, privations enough to en- 
 dure ; we should not neglect to restore our strength by mo- 
 ments of relaxation. A little seasonable pleasure does 
 good to the soul, reanimating and sustaining virtue. Mai\ 
 
PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 341 
 
 accomplishes on earth only the youth of his destiny ; and re- 
 creation is necessary to youth. The more feeble we are, the 
 more necessary is encouragement. Who then should proudly 
 disdain innocent pleasure ? It gives equanimity and seren- 
 ity to the temper, clearness to ideas, ease to action. The 
 heart is expanded, and diffuses itself freely. Happiness does 
 no harm, when it is lawful ; and can there be a true happiness 
 which is not lawful ? When we are happy, the image of 
 good appears embellished; devotedness seems natural, and 
 without effort ; self-sacrifice seconds good will ; we feel it 
 necessary to communicate the happiness we experience. 
 
 The natural effect of pleasure, is, to reestablish among 
 the faculties the equilibrium which is destroyed by fatigue. 
 Labor, especially, exercises some one branch of our active 
 faculties ; pleasure puts in play those which have remained 
 inactive in labor. Therefore to go from one occupation to 
 another is often a sufficient recreation. 
 
 The natural effect of repose is to give to the faculties of 
 the soul a secret and delightful calmness. After a season 
 of repose, if it has not been abused, and if it was taken at 
 the seasonable moment, we find ourselves more self-possess- 
 ed ; we feel more entirely, and comprehend better, the in- 
 spirations of nature; we experience greater confidence, are 
 more strong against difficulty, and better prepared for hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Unless these maxims are well founded, morality contra- 
 dicts itself, in counselling us to spread among others the 
 enjoyments that we must ourselves reject. It would even 
 condemn the satisfaction that we feel, in witnessing the 
 pleasures of which we have been the authors. 
 
 There is then an art of tasting repose and pleasure in a 
 moral view. This art is not only useful, it is laudable; 
 there is almost an obligation upon us to discover and to 
 observe it. It embraces the time, measure, and choice of 
 enjoyments; the circumstances which accompany, and the 
 29* 
 
343 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 spirit which should be carried into them. Its rules are sim- 
 ple, but not always easy to observe. 
 
 Let pleasure and repose always fill up the intervals of 
 labor. Let them be in proportion to the fatigues experienc- 
 ed, a reward of preceding efforts, and a necessary prepara- 
 tion to those which are to follow ! The satisfaction which 
 accompanies effort, the new hopes which it excites, will en- 
 hance their price, and increase their sweetness. Just and 
 useful moral intentions will consecrate, as it were, the en- 
 joyments which would have been almost entirely material, 
 to which will be joined also even a religious sentiment, 
 purifying and ennobling them. Pleasure and repose ought 
 to be subjected, doubtless, to just limits, for the mere inter- 
 est of enjoyment; but selfishness has not the prudence to 
 recognise and observe these limits : we ought to thank 
 virtue for having instituted and guarantied an economy so 
 useful to our happiness. Besides, limits are necessary to 
 preserve Self-government and liberty : they attest the pres- 
 ence of the moral being even in the midst of pleasure, by 
 the power exercised over pleasure, whether in accepting, 
 rejecting, or moderating it. In the choice of pleasures, we 
 should avoid whatever tends to degrade us ; in tasting re^ 
 pose, whatever would stupefy us. The refreshments of repose 
 should be as animated as possible ; those of pleasure, on the 
 contrary, should preserve a certain degree of calmness. In 
 both we should avoid grossness, and whatever engenders 
 agitation, or resembles self-abandonment. Repose does not 
 exclude vigilance ; pleasure invokes it to preserve itself from 
 the intoxication by which it would be corrupted. The 
 means of rendering pleasure more true and its influence 
 more useful, is to unite those secret relations which address 
 themselves to our noblest faculties, to the sensible impres- 
 sions which compose its train, thus interesting both the 
 heart and mind. The senses ought never so to invade the 
 existence of man, as to occupy him exclusively : this would 
 be on his part, an abdication of his nature. Pleasure should 
 
PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 343 
 
 also be an ornament of life. The image of order should be 
 reproduced in enjoyment; for the sense of beauty and pro- 
 priety, rendering enjoyment more delicate, preserves its 
 purity. 
 
 The prejudices of the world accord an excessive indulgence 
 to libertinism, and seem even to encourage it, unless it is 
 carried to the last excess : when joined to brilliant quali- 
 ties, it is often excused, sometimes even applauded, and es- 
 pecially if successful. These prejudices are as fatal as they 
 are blind, and it should be the first care of a sound morality 
 to destroy them. Libertinism, in its external effects, pro- 
 fanes the most sacred institution of nature and society, 
 violating, usurping, and destroying the family affections. 
 It draws after it a multitude of failures in the duties of fidel- 
 ity, delicacy, and good faith : conducting, often insensibly, 
 sometimes suddenly, to the highest crimes.* At the same 
 time, by a secret reaction, it carries a taint to the faculties 
 of the soul, impairing dignity of character, enfeebling the 
 power of meditation by rendering self-recollection more 
 difficult, introducing into ideas and sentiments a sort of 
 licentiousness and misrule, which hurts the energy of reason 
 as much as that of will, and despoils the images of excel- 
 lence of a portion of their charms; while by the effect of the 
 habits it draws after it, the soul is enveloped in clouds, and 
 the radiant and pure light of virtuous sentiments is enfeebled. 
 When the world treats with a marked severity the faults 
 committed by the feebler sex, it finds a motive for this se- 
 verity, in the influence these faults may have upon the ex- 
 istence and rights of families ; yet, in the eyes of morality 
 the distinction which it establishes is unjust, — not only 
 because those who are more feeble are more excusable, — 
 not only because we should be less severe toward those who 
 are ill defended and have yielded, than towards those who 
 
 * If we examine the causes which bring criminals before the tribunals of 
 justice, we shall be surprised to find how large is the number, whom lib- 
 ertinism has led to crime, in a more or less direct manner. 
 
344 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 have seduced ; but, especially, because those to whom the 
 world is most indulgent, ought to give an example of self- 
 government ; because those, whom it treats with most se- 
 verity, were often seduced by an unregulated sensibility, 
 the seducer having played upon this sensibility, devoting, 
 or at least exposing his victim to the greatest of all misfor- 
 tunes, to the mistakes of abused affection, and its conse- 
 quent shame and discouragement. But what is this pleas- 
 ure, purchased at the expense of another's happiness, of the 
 happiness of a sex, that Providence has confided to our 
 protection? What is this pretended success, obtained by 
 real cruelty? What is this mixture of pleasure and barbar- 
 ity ? What is this base selfishness which hides itself in 
 empty sentimentality 1 What is this inconceivable, odious 
 vanity, which counts as its triumphs the blackest treasons 
 in the communion of hearts? 
 
 Pleasure can only be legitimate and pure, can only be 
 salutary, to him who is innocent of all pain caused to anoth- 
 er. Not only so : pleasure, to be complete, must be fed by 
 social intercourse ; solitary pleasure is always imperfect, 
 narrow, and dry. The most material pleasures take a new 
 character, when tasted in common, and become a sort of 
 symbol or channel, for the delightful affections of social 
 intercourse. Pleasure disposes the heart to openness, the 
 communication of enjoyment gives a deeper sympathy, and, 
 reciprocally, sympathy gives to pleasure something tender 
 and delicate. Selfishness is less displayed, when we thus 
 enjoy the pleasure of others at the same time as our own. 
 The tie which unites for a moment those, who sit down to 
 the banquet of innocent pleasure, is one of the ties of hu- 
 manity : it makes us feel and recall other ties, at least, con- 
 fusedly, and thus elevates what might have been entirely 
 material in pleasure ; indirectly favoring communication 
 and overflowing of hearts, and the tacit engagement to re- 
 ciprocal benevolence. These are pleasures really complete, 
 shedding exquisite perfumes. Let us reanimate them by 
 beneficence. 
 
PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 345 
 
 Philosophers have left it to men of the world to eulogize 
 gayety : in this they have done wrong. They might have 
 shown how an innocent gayety strengthens and renovates 
 the heart, in the midst of the fatigues of life ; how gayety 
 prevents or dissipates the storms of passion ; appeases anger, 
 disarms enemies, dissipates the delusions of pride, brings us 
 back to nature and truth, makes men approach each other, 
 and disposes them to confidence, indulgence, and mutual 
 concession, favors the transmission of the most serious and 
 useful truths, and covers them with a veil, which softens 
 their severity. We may often insinuate, under the shelter 
 of gayety, what we could not have made men adopt by the 
 most rigorous demonstration. An innocent gayety seems to 
 be the smile of virtue ; it recommends her, by showing her 
 amiable, and announcing her happy. 
 
 The unemployed, who are discontented with themselves, 
 not being able to find in pleasure its true end, refreshment 
 and preparation, demand of it emotions which may excite or 
 divert them. Thus they are driven to seek it out of nature, 
 and consequently, out of the conditions of truth, and the 
 prescriptions of wisdom. They therefore find it a poison, 
 instead of drawing from it strength. 
 
 There is a repose which is fruitful and full of activity : 
 how few are the men, who find it out; but what power those 
 find in it, who know how to taste it ! 
 
 Human nature exhibits a union of two different natures : 
 and to this fundamental contrast correspond a multitude of 
 subordinate contrasts, originating from it; these are the 
 active and passive faculties; infinite desire and limited 
 strength; adherence to the past and avidity for the new ; 
 the instinct of imitation, and the deep desire of indepen- 
 dence ; inclinations and reason ; influences respectively pe- 
 culiar to contemplation and to practice, to society and to sol- 
 itary life ; lastly, labor and repose, pleasure and pain. But, 
 in this long train of contrasts, the struggle is only apparent: 
 harmony, like utility, arises from combinations, which 
 
346 ' SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 reconcile opposite principles. This grand result, which is 
 foreseen from the first, is constantly confirmed by the de- 
 velopement of our faculties, explains our destiny, and affords 
 a multitude of useful directions for our conduct. Man, a 
 mixed being, aspiring to a better existence, yet subject to 
 an imperfect condition, finds in it a remedy against pride, 
 an encouragement for weakness, and a rule of temperance 
 in every thing. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 How stern and terrible is this last part of the education 
 of man ! the perils and afl^ictions, which under so many 
 different forms beset human nature, and which may come 
 to every one of us, in the rapid course of our existence ! 
 How has it troubled the reason of the wise ! How many 
 minds, in the attempt to fathom the mystery, and to explain 
 the source of human woes, have sunk ! Some have lost all 
 trust in the Supreme disposer of events ; others have imag- 
 ined a malevolent Spirit, equal in power to the good Spirit, 
 independent of him, and seizing the creature as a prey to its 
 fury. So difficult is it to consent to receive the calamities of 
 life as salutary trials, and to draw from them the instructions 
 they contain ! 
 
 Of one thing, however, we may be sure. It it this : we 
 shall not be able to meet this portion of our life with vain 
 speculations, or a merely poetical morality. We must 
 struggle against realities which will admit of no illusion. 
 Truth, alone, the firmest truth, can endure so rude a contest. 
 But this contest is inevitable, we may not escape. It is also 
 necessary, for suffering yields the most important knowledge, 
 
TRIALS. 437 
 
 and the most powerful assistance. Shall its blessing be 
 rejected; shall we turn it to our destruction? The trial 
 which is useless to us, and is fatal to our character, becomes 
 on that account, qjily the more difficult to bear ; and is not 
 this a proof that it was sent to improve our moral nature? 
 
 Under the general name of trials, we include dangers, 
 privations, reverses, physical sufferings, and mental dis- 
 tresses. Viewed by the light of wisdom, the object of all 
 these things is to try the human being ; to teach him to 
 know himself; to soften his character, to give pledges of 
 immortality, and make him worthy of his high destiny. And 
 it is because these instructions are so important, and their 
 fruits are to be manifested in the distant future, it is because 
 they teach man how to die, and form the creature for im- 
 mortality, that the discipline given is so severe. For the 
 same reason, also, this discipline continues, and becomes 
 more active, when other moral influences are suspended; 
 and especially towards the close of existence. Sorrow holds 
 the keys of our mortal life. She ushered us into it; she 
 opens also the passage to another life. 
 
 The seal of suffering, impressed upon our destiny, an- 
 nounces, in clear characters, our high calling. The most 
 gifted are those to whom the deepest sufferings, those of the 
 soul, are reserved, as a privilege. And sorrow ought to be 
 the inheritance only of a being capable of progress. The 
 animal experiences nothing worthy the name of sorrow; for 
 his pains being merely physical, they are both unforeseen 
 and transitory. 
 
 History shows us that great public calamities often pro- 
 duce great changes of character. Some, who are affected 
 by them, rise rapidly to the highest virtues ; others allow 
 themselves to be carried to every excess of depravity. 
 Among the former, we may often see those who have been 
 abandoned, not only to frivolity, but to vice and degradation, 
 Among the latter, we often find those, who before were 
 estimable and regular in their lives. The same trial came 
 
348 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 to all : it produced such different effects, because it was not 
 viewed under the same aspect, or received with the same 
 disposition. It reformed, strengthened, elevated, those who 
 comprehended it : it left powerless those who did not know 
 how to accept it. All disorders and errors may be explain- 
 ed by weakness. Those lost command over themselves 
 whose virtues were only mechanical ; who performed easy 
 duties, under favorable circumstances ; who never penetrat- 
 ed their souls to destroy selfishness. At the appearance of 
 danger, selfishness prevailed, and took entire possession of 
 them ; trial only appeared as an oppressive spoiler, an ene- 
 my ; and refuge was sought from a future which could 
 not be endured, in disgraceful dissipation. But those gain- 
 ed command over themselves, who had, amidst all their 
 deficiencies, preserved a moral principle which was roused 
 by the presence of trial ; they discovered the vanity of the 
 transitory pleasures, which had engrossed them ; they per- 
 ceived that another destiny awaited them ; they rejoiced in 
 the instructer who teaches by correcting, in the physician 
 who cures by a bitter draught. What history reveals, in 
 these solemn events, takes place habitually among men : the 
 same effects are produced by common trials, as they are 
 yielded to, or as men raise themselves above them. 
 
 How just and salutary is that decree of opinion, which 
 has made fear ignominious ! Fear conducts to all crimes, 
 by every kind of meanness. Nothing is so cruel as coward- 
 ice. Terror gives an absolute supremacy to selfishness; for 
 it puts out of our view all that would check it ; bursts all the 
 ties of affection ; produces a sort of dissolution of the moral 
 existence ; chills the soul, as physical fear chills the limbs ; 
 destroying, or, at least, paralysing both the Love of Excel- 
 lence and Self-government : for he, who trembles, can 
 neither love nor exert his will. No idea then is more false 
 than that of employing fear as a moral influence. How can 
 the image of virtue be depicted in the bosom of fear ? what 
 generous sentiment can spring from cowardice 1 Fear not 
 
TRIALS. 
 
 349 
 
 only gives no notion of duty ; it conveys an erroneous im- 
 pression concerning it ; it will never inspire a useful thought, 
 a praiseworthy resolution. It is a great mistake to endeav- 
 our to reform man by debasing him. A certain kind and 
 degree of fear may be employed to advantage in repressing 
 impetuosity and violence, serving to restore equilibrium, 
 and self-command : but at this limit it ought to stop. To 
 have any salutary effect, fear should be joined with respect, 
 thus preserving something of morality. This may be attain- 
 ed by associating it with the rules of justice ; making it 
 serve as an expression or an attendant of them : but then 
 it ought to accompany justice, not conceal it. 
 
 Danger is of use, by warning the soul to collect its strength 
 and summon its forces ; thus making it free from all shackles. 
 The serenity diffused over the countenance of the hero, the 
 spirit which lights up his features, when, on the field of 
 glory, a thousand arrows fly around him, may show us what 
 is passing in the soul of the wise man, who is threatened 
 with misfortune. As genius is exalted in the presence of 
 obstacles, so is virtue, in the presence of danger ; f^r it then 
 learns to trust itself, and acquires the consciousness of its 
 power and its dignity. 
 
 It is common and easy for courage to meet a definite 
 danger ; but it is more difficult to brave what is vague and 
 undefined : it is still more rare to carry into courage a moral 
 motive. Yet this condition is necessary to render the hab- 
 it of danger profitable to the character. 
 
 We are not astonished at the bravery of thousands, who 
 expose their lives in the field of battle, often without knowing 
 why ; but it is astonishing to see a man expose his fortune, 
 liberty, and life, in the cause of justice and truth. Yet the 
 last kind of courage is much more reasonable and just; it 
 should be more natural. Have we not then false ideas of 
 courage 1 
 
 The powerful charm of excitement is what supports in peril 
 even those who seek it with ardor ; they know they may die, 
 30 
 
350 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 but in the mean time existence is more valuable. But this 
 principle is more injurious than useful to the character. Tri- 
 als will come, and such as require the most fortitude, when 
 there is no excitement to assist us : for example, those 
 which require us to brave the unjust decrees of opinion. 
 Moreover, in cultivating the taste for excitement, we lend to 
 the passions a new energy, and common life becomes insip- 
 id ; obscure virtues lose their value ; duty appears a monot- 
 onous and vulgar thing. The brilliant qualities, which have 
 been displayed on a boisterous scene, on our returning to 
 common life, are often eclipsed, and vanish entirely in a 
 series of regular and tranquil events. This is because these 
 qualities were the offspring of passion, rather than of virtue. 
 Familiarity with danger disposes the soul to disinterest- 
 edness, and thus prepares for all kinds of sacrifices. It frees 
 it from a crowd of illusions and puerile caprices, produces 
 self-possession, gives seriousness as well as manliness to 
 the character, and thus prepares us for the exercises of 
 wisdom. There is, indeed, a thoughtlessness which accus- 
 toms itself to danger for the sake of amusement ; misusing 
 trial, by strengthening itself in an incurable frivolity. 
 There is also a coarse and almost brutal indifference, which 
 becomes familiar with danger, and braves every thing, be- 
 cause it is interested in nothing ; and which comes forth 
 from trial, as unalterable substances from the crucible, 
 without the slightest transformation. The heart is improv- 
 ed by danger, only when it knows it as such, and measures 
 the extent of the sacrifice. A contempt of life is always 
 honorable in the superficial judgment of the world ; because 
 whatever are the causes of this contempt, there is something 
 striking in it. Yet life is not to be despised ; and it is 
 neither rational nor allowable to sport with it. To expose 
 it uselessly, is not courage, but a culpable rashness, and the 
 more culpable, when a vain ostentation is the real motive of 
 this sort of bravado. Contempt of life, we repeat, is not 
 honorable ; but to esteem duty and honor more than life, 
 
TRIALS. 351 
 
 is only esteeming life at its just value. The presence of 
 danger also causes us to appreciate more truly every moment 
 of our existence ; for, like a flash of light, it banishes all 
 illusion, and annihilates every thing false, calling to mind 
 all that is ennobling in our present existence, whose value 
 arises from what is to be perfected in that future, for which 
 it is a preparation. By showing us the shortness of life, 
 danger also makes us feel how urgent is the necessity for 
 employing it for the end for which it was given. 
 
 The trial of danger also gives self-knowledge, for it shows 
 us the solidity and reality of our virtues. We must, there- 
 fore, endure it with entire tranquillity ; for agitation bewil- 
 ders our judgment ; fright causes us to forget our resources, 
 and our merits ; and discouragement renders us unjust to- 
 wards ourselves. 
 
 Wisdom has been defined by some philosophers, especial- 
 ly among the new Platonists, " meditation upon death." 
 Let us avoid exaggeration, nor step aside from the path 
 which Providence has marked out for man. Doubtless, life 
 ought to be a great preparation ; but, for this reason, it 
 should be life, and not an anticipated and continual death. 
 Some useful and proper feelings are weakened by the ha- 
 bitual anticipation of our last hour ; some of our occupations 
 would be interrupted, which still are duties. This continu- 
 al contemplation of death may become an enthusiastic and 
 mystical selfishness, producing a forgetfulness of the claims 
 of society, and destroying the charm of those sweet affec- 
 tions, by which we are united to our fellow-men. Let us not 
 dispute with others this rare degree of perfection, of which 
 they are so jealous : let our kind of progress be that which 
 belongs to more common men, that which demands, in the 
 first place, faithfulness to the dictates of prudence and na- 
 ture. Let our motto be, '^The wise man, looking forward to 
 death, makes the best use of life." 
 
 Reason, analysing the ills of life, discovers that the larg- 
 est portion of them, and those by which we are the most 
 
352 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 affected, are of a purely negative character, consisting 
 entirely of privations ; also, that the privations which affect 
 us, often have no other reality than that which we are pleas- 
 ed to give them ; or, than that which artificial habits, and 
 conventional comparisons, have given to them. In this exact 
 appreciation of the value of human things, consist the first 
 principles of the science of happiness ; yet who thinks of 
 engaging in such a study, without the spur of adversity? 
 Let us, then, be consoled for many sorrows, by the knowl- 
 edge they bring ; and the wounds which they make, will be 
 healed. What a blessing may we draw from the mistakes 
 of vanity, if, in the end, we learn to reduce to a just value, 
 the good which vanity pursues ; and to repress that blind 
 and insatiable self-love of which vanity is the excess! 
 
 There are some remarkable and striking instances of 
 adversity, in which the sternness of fortune is balanced by 
 the applause of the world. But there is less fruit' from such 
 adversity, as well as less merit ; for pride is apt to corrupt 
 us. We have not the same resources in the obscure vexa^* 
 tions and trifling privations of life, but we reap much greater 
 advantages. 
 
 Thus the world cannot sufficiently admire the resolution 
 of the powerful and prosperous, who are overtaken by dis- 
 grace ; though they only need a little reason, perhaps, to 
 become really more happy. But its indifference leaves unper- 
 ceived, or its thoughtlessness despises, the numerous exam- 
 ples of the heroism of poverty, which lie hidden all around 
 and near us, and which, if known to the world, would chal- 
 lenge the veneration of all men. Notwithstanding the 
 magnificence of the pictures, in which the good man in 
 adversity has been set forth by the eloquence of philosophy, 
 the subject is not exhausted ; much, that is new, might be 
 added, by the daily visitors of the abodes of poverty. To 
 put out of the question its numerous privations, its solitude, 
 its destitution of earthly comfort, the suspicion and conde- 
 scension which often are so wounding in the midst of 
 
TRIALS. 353 
 
 IjiompaSsion, the family affections which often become the 
 source of the greatest sufferings, the most distressing anxie- 
 ties, and the constant presence of all these things without 
 the presence of hope ; — what a trial for the heart, — what a 
 revelation of the unknown is it ! It has been reserved for 
 Christianity to manifest to the world all that is sublime in 
 the heroism of poverty, and to elevate this condition to the 
 rank of a moral privilege, by the dignity it confers, and the 
 virtues it teaches. 
 
 The Love of Excellence is cultivated in many ways by 
 the trial of suffering and privation, which favor concentra- 
 tion of soul, because the soul is delivered by it from illusion 
 and distraction, and forced to create within itself a new 
 existence. Self, and the interests that throng around it, 
 are laid aside, and a new turn is given to the affections, by 
 the manifestation of a support, a comfort, an inexhaustible 
 source of consolation, in the perception of the realities of 
 human destiny. The duties which are our laws, being 
 shown as our true objects, we perceive that there is something 
 positive and serious in that science of wisdom, which we 
 are too apt to rank with mere theories. In presence of these 
 noble images, the oppressed soul is renev/ed ; virtue is seen 
 under its purest forms ; we are admitted into a m^ore inti- 
 mate communion ; and there dawn upon us not only con- 
 solations, but celestial joys, which would have been un- 
 known in prosperity. Oh ! how beautiful does virtue ap- 
 pear, when, though we find ourselves destitute of all other 
 good, we possess her entirely, contemplate her unveiled, 
 and offer to her a heart purified by adversity ! Would 
 we penetrate these wonderful secrets, however, and obtain 
 these salutary influences, we must enter the paths of trial 
 with right dispositions : we must enter them with compo- 
 sure ; not only with the external tranquillity of the senses, 
 but with that inward peace, which belongs to a happy 
 conscience ; we must have a sincere desire for these instruc- 
 tions ; we must preserve and cherish the power of loving, 
 30* 
 
354 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 which alone can enable us to enjoy the sweetness of being 
 loved and consoled. The great book of adversity will in 
 vain be opened before us, if, in order to read it, we do not 
 first tear from our eyes the bondage of self-love. 
 
 The trial of privations and sufferings also contributes in 
 many ways to the developement of Self-government. It 
 breaks the chain of habit, and the soul recovers freedom of 
 will. Placed in this new situation, we may study ourselves to 
 more advantage, and shall be led to reflect upon our faults and 
 the consequences they have had, and to discover how much 
 reality there is in the virtues we thought we had acquir- 
 ed. We can practise self-restraint and temperance, acquire 
 boldness and firmness of will ; in a word, by moral inten- 
 tions, we shall be able to change into a voluntary sacrifice 
 what is imposed upon us by circumstances, and thus to form 
 the true triumph of resignation. 
 
 We often and very justly envy those privileged beings, 
 who have been permitted to devote their lives to a holy 
 cause, to sacrifice themselves to duty, to suffer persecution 
 for the sake of justice. But resignation offers to each of us 
 a sphere of merit it many respects similar. Privations and 
 sufferings that are sent upon us, and which we do not 
 choose, may be accepted by us in meekness, and in accept- 
 ing them thus, we offer a true sacrifice to duty ; for it is our 
 duty to submit to the will of Providence, in the events with 
 which our destiny is marked. The less remarkable our 
 duty is, the less it flatters our self-love, and the more great- 
 ness and purity there is in its performance. Enter that 
 asylum, where lies, far from the eyes of the world, a person 
 long exhausted by acute pain, having no other prospect than 
 the same pain, continued to the grave, while each day takes 
 from him some charm of existence. His days are without 
 relaxation, his nights without repose ; an incessant torture 
 overpowers him, and the prospects of life consist of a slowly 
 approaching death. Every day brings to him a farewell ; 
 his intercourse with those whom he loves, continually 
 
TRIALS. 355 
 
 becomes more difficult and rare ; but during the course of a 
 martrydom constantly increasing, his serenity is constantly 
 becoming greater, his patience more equable ; he is disen- 
 gaging himself from every thing, without selfish regret ; 
 far from being occupied with himself, he is constantly in- 
 quiring with more tender solicitude into the affairs of those 
 who are dear to him : he has an increasing ardor to foresee 
 their future destiny : he knows how to love better than ever. 
 Oh how much that is valuable has he learned in this terrible 
 school ! How much, in his turn, does he teach by his ex- 
 ample ! Such resignation, suffering supported with so much 
 constancy, why is it less noble than the immolation of Soc- 
 rates 1 
 
 Unfortunate beings, who have been called to drink the 
 bitter cup of affliction ! Oh that you could comprehend 
 how much substantial and restoring nourishment it contains ; 
 how many precious remedies for the sufferings of the soul ! 
 Accept it with courage, and even with gratitude. And you, 
 who are sent on the affecting errand of aiding the unhappy, 
 remember that you have hardly commenced the fulfilment 
 of your duty, when you have given support and comfort to 
 the wants of the body. There are other consolations for you 
 to give. The power of tender affection must penetrate the 
 heart of the afflicted ! and to do this, confidence is to be 
 obtained, which is a more difficult thing than at first appears. 
 Friendship is the only cure that can be offered to sorrow. 
 The last benefit, the most noble and useful part of your min- 
 istry, the benefit of which this established bond of friendship 
 will be the instrument, is to raise the sinking heart, and 
 teach it not to despair of itself, — to aid the sufferer to dis- 
 cover, in the trial he endures, all the instruction it offers, to 
 show him all the means of improvement contained in his 
 misfortune. 
 
 But the most terrible, the most profound of all the myste- 
 ries of grief, is that which is reserved to the purest souls, 
 when the holiest affections are converted into heart-rending 
 
356 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 sufferings ; when it is necessary to receive the sad farewell 
 of the beings to whom our life has been devoted, and to re- 
 nounce the happiness of living for them ; when we can no 
 longer hear the accents of that voice which excited us to 
 virtue, nor longer clasp the hand that guided us in the path 
 of duty ; when our guide, our support, our most intimate 
 friend is taken away ; when that form, in which virtue 
 seemed to breathe, has disappeared ! 
 
 O you, who have explored the secret of all sufferings, is 
 there any explanation of this last trial ; is there any means 
 of rendering it useful to our amelioration, — deprived as 
 we are by it of the most powerful assistance ? Doubtless, 
 there are here also lessons, severe but sublime, and fruitful 
 for those who are worthy to receive them. They are the 
 last part of our education, and are intended to achieve our 
 perfection. All the mysteries of grief are resolved in relig- 
 ious thoughts, and they only can fully explain them. Let 
 us raise our eyes to the prospects of religion ! Then, and 
 only then, all the uses hidden in the trials of life, will be 
 revealed. Then the sentence which condemns the heart to 
 widowhood, will become intelligible to the sensitive and 
 tender. Then will be comprehended the true character 
 and supreme end of the affections, which are so delightful. 
 Then it will be discovered, that they can become more 
 purified, that there are new ways of serving and honoring 
 those we have loved. Then grief will become fruitful in 
 good actions, and find in those ties of affection — not un- 
 broken, although they have become invisible — a means of 
 cherishing the noblest hopes. The temple where the wor- 
 ship of remembrance is celebrated, is enlightened with the 
 rays of immortality ! In the solitary exercise of excellence, 
 the bereaved finds in himself the power of heroic efforts, but 
 this it remained for him to gain. A new career of progress 
 opens upon him, as yet unknown, and one which human wis- 
 dom could not have taught. The farewells of the virtuous 
 are promises: we correspond in absence; we find each 
 
DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 357 
 
 Other again in the home of love, the summit of perfection, 
 the true end of our destiny. There is a palm for this mar- 
 tyrdom of the heart ; it grows on the confines of earth and 
 Jieaven. We must go there to gather it. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PROGRESS IN DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 
 
 Man, with his faculties and inclinations, is born subject 
 to laws, intended to regulate both ; this is all he brings with 
 him into the world. We often demand of infancy what it 
 cannot possess, as if it had a real and primitive stock, of 
 which it ought to be already in enjoyment. At the same 
 time, by a contrary error, we overwhelm infancy with what 
 is factitious, when we should especially assist it to enter 
 into possession of what is destined for it. We are astonish- 
 ed not to find innate virtues. Children are without pity, as 
 €ven the good La Fontaine says, but we may remark, that 
 pity supposes reflection, of which infancy is hardly capable. 
 Children are selfish, it is said ; but we may remark that 
 children have little opportunity to give, and it is in giving, 
 that we learn to love. Early infancy is under the dominion 
 of the passive faculties : the sensual nature is necessarily 
 the first part of our nature, which is developed ; the smile of 
 an infant upon its mother, however, shows to an attentive 
 eye something that cannot be perceived in any animal, the 
 dawn of moral light, the blossoming of love. Children soon 
 find out the delight of being loved, and acquire promptly a 
 very clear idea and have a singularly vivid sentiment of jus- 
 tice. 
 
 We find in children, what we ought to find, germs, em- 
 bryos, which are to be developed by favorable influences ; 
 
358 
 
 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 but growth is often checked by adverse circumstances, and 
 false instruction. It is true, that self-love often shows itself 
 naked in infancy, but is it really more powerful than in later 
 periods of life, or does infancy only show it more ingenuous- 
 ly and candidly? Besides, it has not yet been enlightened! 
 by reflection and experience, which may reconcile it withi 
 devoted disinterestedness. 
 
 Of the two great moral powers, the Love of Excellence 
 is the first to show itself, and it ought to be so; for it is 
 necessary, in the first place, to conceive the end, and to- 
 aspire after it with earnestness, before means can be gath- 
 ered to conduct to it. It seems to be the dowry of youth^ , 
 which has peculiar charms for it. It seems to ally itself to > 
 youth with a sort of predilection. What spectacle upon 
 earth is more interesting, and, at the same time, more natu- 
 ral, than that of a young heart, opening at once to the 
 emanations of virtue and the affections of life, devoting 
 itself as a consecrated priest to the worship of excellence^ 
 with all the rectitude of its age, and with faculties as yet 
 unspoiled ? The meditations of youth are full of seeds ; itst 
 actions are promises; its days are rit^h with the- futurew 
 It fears no withering ; it is disconcerted by no doubts ; it 
 has not yet been deceived, and suspects not what the terri- 
 ble experience of the world will teach it; it hardly suspects 
 all the mistakes it will discover in itself. In fulfilling duty, 
 the young seem to follow inclination, tasting an enjoyment, 
 rather than making a sacrifice. How precious is this en- 
 thusiasm, which makes virtue so easy; this serene inno- 
 cence, which conceives no danger ; this earnestness of soul, 
 which, in aspiring to the best, hopes to realize the ideal 
 upon earth ! How sad is that dissipation of mind, in which 
 these treasures are wasted ; that excitement of the passions 
 which quenches these hopes ; that unfortunate experience 
 of life, which destroys this faith, and clouds this ideal ! The 
 most of the wanderings of youth have their source in affec- 
 tions, laudable in themselves, but unregulated by reason and 
 
DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 359 
 
 a wise Self-government; it is to make up for this want of 
 Self-government, that virtue is made so attractive to youth. 
 
 The Love of Excellence can, in the beginning, obtain a 
 high degree of energy. It displays itself even the more 
 freely in a soul yet new ; but Self-government, on the con- 
 trary, is acquired only by long and painful exertion. The 
 practice of obedience, and a deference to counsel, are offer- 
 ed to youth to supply its place. The young ought to feel 
 the authority of others, because they are hardly capable of 
 exercising authority over themselves. The sentiment of 
 respect is a conservative principle for purity of feeling and 
 moderation of desire. To excite the Love of Excellence, it 
 is only necesary to contemplate models, and to descend into 
 the heart. But to guard against the wanderings of extrava- 
 gance, even in excellence, there is need of vigilance and 
 self-distrust, an acknowledgement and understanding of 
 guidance ; there is need of rules, of limits, which may 
 strengthen by restraining us; of knowledge, which may hold 
 the place of experience. 
 
 The second moral power. Self-government, seems to be, in 
 its turn, a privilege reserved to mature age, in which every 
 thing is more calm, and which encounters, on all sides, diffi- 
 culties and obstacles, v/hich is called to perseverance and pa- 
 tience. Emotions are less necessary to it, for it has nothing to 
 undertake ; it has only to go on : there is less assistance, 
 because there are fewer dangers. However, mature age has 
 aJso perils, less sensible, less signal than those of youth, but 
 in some respects more fearful. There are no violent storms 
 of passion, but there is an influence, chilling the moral life 
 tmless guarded against ; this comes from blind habits, 
 |which multiply and become heavier every day; from the 
 preoccupations of business ; from the suggestions of the 
 false wisdom, which, through a superficial and imperfect 
 experience of human life, believes itself to see a confirma- 
 tion of selfish doctrines, and a condemnation of generous 
 thoughts. Lastly, and in virtuous men, it is the abuse of 
 
SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Self-government, and an exaggerated self-denial, which 
 indirectly dry up some of the sources of the Love of Excel- 
 lence. These revolutions are brought about insensibly, and 
 we are surprised, when we find ourselves entirely changed 
 from what we were in youth. We should constantly resist 
 this insensible influence, and rekindle the principle of moral 
 life. By the progress of reason, we should defend ourselves 
 from the slavery of routine; by the exercise of devotedness, 
 we should preserve the heart from sleep and apathy. Moral 
 activity may be preserved in the midst of external activity. 
 By rendering ourselves useful to others, we cherish in our- 
 selves the generous affections, for practice cherishes senti- 
 ment. It is necessary, especially, to preserve religiously that 
 faith in excellence, the true treasure of man, which so many 
 circumstances tend to enfeeble, unless we appeal from these 
 deceitful appearances to the testimony of remembrance and 
 of conscience. 
 
 Whether we descend into ourselves, or look upon life, 
 we are at first tempted to suppose, that the most beautiful 
 years of youth are also the best, and that man decays mor- 
 ally with the progress of age. But this is an impression, 
 rather than a judgment, and we are deceived by confound- 
 ing the enjoyment with the practice of excellence. This 
 enjoyment may fail, for it was given to make up for the 
 strength that was yet wanting. The exaltation of enthusi- 
 asm, wisely directed, may contribute to progress, but does 
 not constitute perfection. In proportion as we advance in 
 age, our affections are enlightened by knowledge, our fac- 
 ulties tend to a more just equilibrium ; and this is progress. 
 Man does not decay morally, unless he loses his power of 
 doing good ; and, if his power does not grow, as his expe- 
 rience extends, and his reason is enlightened, and as he 
 obtains more calmness, and as the motives to virtue are 
 confirmed and multiplied, it is not the fault of his age, but 
 only of his negligence. The virtues of youth act more viv- ; 
 idly upon our imagination ; but the serious, regular, and 
 
DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 361 
 
 peaceable virtues of mature age, reassure the attentive 
 observer against the fear of a general and continual decay. 
 The moral powers of man not only do not necessarily decay 
 with those of his body, but may grow as the latter decay. The 
 youth of the heart may be preserved till death, as many ad- 
 mirable examples attest. There is no moral old age, except 
 for the selfish ; the selfish alone see what they have acquired 
 consumed ; what they have hoped, vanish with years. The 
 Love of Excellence, which innocence of life and rectitude of 
 soul have protected, finds again its warmth under the snows 
 of age ; it collects itself, rich in all its acquirements, to 
 spread abroad all its influences, to celebrate, as a solemn 
 triumph, that time which prepares for new and august des- 
 tinies. 
 
 It is the destiny of old age to enjoy or to suflfer the con- 
 sequences of the years which have preceded. Nothing is 
 more sad, than the decrepitude of soul, which terminates a 
 selfish life; but what alimen. for remembrance does he find, 
 who has consecrated his life to the search after improve- 
 ment! Virtue, in approaching the hour of recompense, is 
 reanimated, as if penetrated with a secret joy. Old age is 
 the portico, which introduces us to the temple, and it 
 already has the majesty of the great future. We should 
 guard, however, against believing that there is any thing fixed, 
 inevitable, necessary, in the moral condition of man in this 
 world ; there is still time in the last years, even in the last 
 days of life, to return to that virtue, which, like an indulgent 
 friend, is ready to receive us. Whatever progress we have 
 made, there is yet opportunity for new progress, even in the 
 age of repose; there is still a period of education, — and of 
 what an education ! For, to what a destination it conducts 
 us ! Some resources are wanting to it doubtless ; but, if it 
 encounter some obstacles peculiar to it, if it must defend 
 itself from lassitude, dejection, timidity, inertia, the slavery 
 of habit, perhaps also from a secret tendency to suspicion, 
 — on the other side, it has fewer enemies to combat, and 
 31 
 
363 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 has numberless and powerful succours. It can gather the 
 fruits of the experience of life, which is intended as a school 
 of virtue; it breathes an atmosphere of calmness and seren- 
 ity. The self-cultivation of the aged should consist in two 
 principal points ; to seek and seize all the means of pre- 
 serving moral activity, and of approaching other men by 
 kindness. Thus, energy of will will be sustained, while the 
 affections will be constantly reanimated. These two coun- 
 sels, moreover, are essentially connected ; the sphere of 
 activity, which remains open to the aged, has especially for 
 its object to spread benefits among others. O that they 
 should complain of being useless ! What power is more 
 beneficent than theirs? Goodness of heart becomes in them 
 more amiable, more touching. The veneration they inspire, 
 is mingled with tenderness ; their words are august and ten- 
 der as adieus. What wonders this goodness of the aged can 
 produce ! These are the flowers of autumn, which spring up 
 abundantly in their steps. They are only occupied for those 
 they cherish ; they possess only to give ; the generosity 
 which animates them, hastens to spread abroad its gifts, 
 lest it should not have time. This generosity is the more 
 entire and absolute, as it can look for no return ; for what 
 real interests remain for old age, except those which good- 
 ness prepares for it? Lastly, what inestimable value in the 
 peculiar gifts of age, the most true and useful of benefits, 
 examples and counsel ! Old age is a magistracy, instituted 
 in the order of nature by Providence itself, ennobling, 
 consecrating, purifying him, who exercises it worthily : for 
 we are always improved in laboring for the improvement of 
 others. But, to fulfil this mission, old age should be acces- 
 sible ; it should learn the language of those it instructs, in 
 order to make itself understood ; and by a happy return, it 
 will itself be reanimated and softened. Is there not a 
 secret instinct, which attracts age towards infancy, which 
 can gather under its protection lessons that books do not 
 give, and be formed in its presence to habits of respect, 
 
DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 363 
 
 while itself finds in infancy the images of those true bless- 
 ings, which time does not alter, and which the experience 
 of life makes us appreciate better ; the blessings, of which 
 candor is the image, and innocence the pledge ? This ap- 
 proach of age and infancy is a sort of benediction, given to 
 those who enter upon terrestrial existence by those who 
 are near quitting it. 
 
 Between moral youth and moral maturity, the difference is 
 much less sensible in woman, than in man. Women attain 
 much sooner their moral maturity, and preserve much better 
 the endowments of their youth. The Love of Excellence 
 seems to prevail in women, as Self-government in men. Wo- 
 men have all the advantage which belongs to the preeminence 
 of this beautiful power, as also they are exposed to the dan- 
 gers which spring from the loss of the moral equilibrium. In 
 consequence of this preeminence, they have the privilege of 
 being constantly called to the exercise of devotedness ; they 
 are also eminently gifted with the power of loving, and of for- 
 getting themselves. They have the happiness of carrying 
 private affection into the accomplishment of every duty ; 
 for all their duties are special and personal. They have the 
 happiness also of fulfilling more obscure and constant vir- 
 tues. The career of progress seems to be circumscribed to 
 them in narrower limits ; but they advance much farther, 
 and more generally, in the career, than men. Their nature 
 seems to be elevated and enlarged, in proportion as more 
 difficult circumstances demand their generosity and disin- 
 terestedness, and as occasion is offered to love, and to prove 
 how they love. Are sacrifices demanded of them? they 
 triumph. This example brings us insensibly to a funda- 
 mental truth, very necessary to conceive : it is this, that 
 progress is relative for each individual. Nothing differs 
 more than the career of progress open to the two sexes, 
 although a general and absolute end is common to both. It 
 seems, that the vocation of the one is to direct into the 
 moral life all the powers of the affections; that of the other, 
 
364 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 all the powers of the intellect ; the privilege of the one is 
 devotedness, that of the other is strength, so that in fine 
 they exchange between themselves sentiment and knowl- 
 edge, protecting each other reciprocally by tenderness and 
 courage, and uniting in the beneficent and religious life, 
 which is true activity and perfect love. Thus, the principal 
 education of one of the two sexes, has for its object purity 
 of heart, which is the aegis of sentiment; and that of the 
 other, cultivation of reason, which is the aegis of strength, 
 because it is the principle of Self-government. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS CONDUCES TO MORAL PROGRESS. 
 
 When we speak of intellectual progress, in its relation to 
 moral progress, it is necessary to distinguish two branches 
 of the cultivation of the mind, which we are too much ac- 
 customed to confound ; viz. that which consists in the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge, and that which consists in the de- 
 velopement of the faculties. By not having attended to this 
 essential distinction, we have often perplexed important 
 questions, and fallen into great errors. 
 
 It is true that there is a natural tie between these two 
 orders of intellectual progress ; for the faculties of the 
 understanding are only developed by exercise, and their 
 culti ation is promoted by the acquisition of knowledge; 
 while, on the other hand, in proportion as the faculties of 
 the understanding are better cultivated, knowledge is more 
 easily obtained, preserved, and applied. But these two kinds 
 of progress do not go on always in accordance, and do not 
 exercise a similar influence upon the character. Increase 
 of knowledge does not always make men wiser. Instruction 
 
INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 365 
 
 must have some relation to the notions we possess already, 
 and the applications we propose to make. Incomplete, in- 
 coherent knowledge, may become an embarrassment and a 
 cause of error, unless this relation is preserved ; for the 
 merit and usefulness of kno\5'ledge consists in its oppor- 
 tuneness and conformity to a plan. Hence, every acquisition 
 of knowledge is not profitable to the character ; that alone 
 is profitable, which is connected with general improvement, 
 and is in relation with our condition and destination. There 
 is sometimes a salutary ignorance, which protects our hap- 
 piness, preserving us from indiscreet desire and deceptive 
 ambition. There are also some truths, which we might 
 abuse, and which might become, in our hands, hurtful 
 instruments, because we have not sufficient experience to 
 employ them, or, because we are not placed in a situation 
 favorable to apply them, or, in fine, because we ourselves 
 have not the dispositions, the qualities, and the strength 
 necessary to use well an instrument, the management of 
 which is much more difficult than we think. For we must 
 remember that knowledge is only a means, lending itself in 
 active life to every kind of effect; and it may be made 
 subservient to evil as well as to good. Not that knowledge 
 is in fault; the fault is in the want of address, the impru- 
 dence, and especially in the blind vanity, which turns what 
 might be a good into a poison. 
 
 There is, however, an influence which the intellectual 
 faculties exercise over the moral faculties. This influence 
 is directly propitious, and, as long as the intellect is well 
 balanced, continues to be so : it begins to be hurtful only 
 when the equilibrium of the intellect is lost, and one faculty 
 usurps an exclusive sway. In other words, intellectual 
 progress is always in itself favorable to moral progress. But 
 we must not admit that the first can supply the place of the 
 second. On the contrary, the former only imposes a greater 
 necessity and a greater duty of laboring for the latter, in 
 order to preserve constantly the harmony of the two systems. 
 31* 
 
366 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 Neither do we say, that one conducts necessarily to the 
 other. We only remark, that intellectual progress furnishes 
 valuable aid to moral amelioration, but it rests with us to 
 make this aid of avail in self-education; hence, we should 
 be careful that the cultivation of the mind should tend to 
 this noble end of human destiny. 
 
 It is true, that, in general, the cultivation of the mind, 
 when it is well directed, tends of itself to nourish the senti- 
 ment of what is noble, pure, and elevated ; bringing us 
 back constantly to truth, which is the essence of good, 
 and to beauty, which is its resplendence. It makes us feel 
 a want, a presentiment of virtue ; it is a foretaste nourish- 
 ing the love of virtue, and will render the practice of it more 
 easy and delightful, when its sacred flame shall have pene- 
 trated the heart, to which it is attached by the most enduring 
 ties. The sentiment of the true and of the good, being in 
 their nature essentially disinterested, dispose the soul to 
 generous movements, and prepare it also for acts of devo- 
 tedness. Let us consult our own testimony in the moments 
 of self-recollection, when delivered up to the search after 
 the treasures of intellect, or having succeeded in finding 
 them, we enjoy them fully, or, when following the traces of 
 .crenius, and gathering its lessons, a new truth, or sublime 
 conception takes captive our mind. How far are we then 
 from the regions agitated by passion, or withered by selfish- 
 ness ! Is there not, in the profound conviction produced 
 by truth, in the emotion excited by the beautiful, a secret 
 power, which renders us more capable of feeling what is 
 honorable, just, praiseworthy, moral ? If at this moment 
 we meet other men, do we not greet them with a deeper and 
 more animated good will ? If at this moment an oppor- 
 tunity for a good action is presented, do we not accept 
 it more naturally and earnestly 1 There is a solemn 
 character in truth, which disposes to respect ; and in the 
 beautiful, an amiable character which attracts us. The 
 acts of approbation and of esteem strengthen the soul, and 
 
INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 367 
 
 give it repose : admiration elevates, purifies, expands the 
 heart. To draw these salutary influences however, from 
 the exercises of the mind, our faculties must be directed to 
 cherish the love of truth and of the beautiful; too often, we 
 must confess, we abuse these gifts, so that the mind cor- 
 rupts and withers the heart. 
 
 There are some humorous minds, which find matter of 
 pleasantry in the most serious things, making the burlesque 
 constantly spring from the sublime, through a natural talent 
 for travestie, and for going from the high to the low. Some 
 minds also, more seriously corrupt what is elevated, by 
 their manner of viewing it; and have an unhappy talent of 
 making the great contemptible. This is the art of buffoon- 
 ery ; but less innocent than buffoonery commonly so called. 
 It is united with a false and cruel gayety through the influ- 
 ence of ridicule. These minds are quick, subtle, naturally 
 descending, rather than mounting, and seizing not the 
 essence of things but their least accessories. In a majestic 
 whole they find a point which was unperceived, they make 
 it evident by a rapid stroke, they increase the effect by the 
 surprise they excite, and break up the harmony of the whole. 
 The field of morality is especially open to them, because 
 every thing in it being great and majestic, there is more to 
 degrade. They find arms in public and private history, and 
 the experience of the world; because virtue is never per- 
 fected on earth, and because in characters, where it has 
 established its sway, there always remain some imperfec- 
 tions and discords of which slander may take advantage. 
 Simplicity, generosity, and confidence excite in such per- 
 sons a disdainful smile ; the maxims of the wise are to them 
 vain abstractions; the weaknesses of the great a subject of 
 triumph. Perhaps they obtain some frivolous and vulgar 
 applause ; and is not this the meed of mountebanks? Frivo- 
 lous men find in them the piquancy of variety, the charm 
 of contrast and novelty ; for is there not something new in 
 seeing eternal truth overturned ? Vulgar minds love to see 
 
368 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 an overthrow, as children love to see destruction. Besides, 
 without confessing it to himself, more than one spectator is 
 pleased to see those models disregarded, which he has 
 not the courage to approach, and which wound his self-love 
 by condemning his cowardice. This scourge especially 
 occurs in states of society in which mental enjoyment has 
 become a sport rather than an occupation : or in which it is 
 associated with frivolity, or when minds, enervated by the 
 abuse of pleasure, fatigued by satiety and disgust, incapable 
 of the energy which aspires to what is great, but tormented 
 with the restless activity of seeking novelty, would obtain 
 it without effort ; or, when the extreme complication of 
 social relations, and the continual collision of individuals, 
 favors the play, and insures the success, of those nice and 
 quick observations, which seize the most fugitive shades in 
 things, situations, and characters. 
 
 Let us observe the processes of nature in those successive 
 transformations which organized substances undergo; how 
 unceasingly she dissolves to recombine, destroys to reviv- 
 ify ! This is the image of the processes, to which the hu- 
 man mind is called. As we cannot know any thing well, 
 without examining its various parts, analysis should be the 
 prelude of intellectual operations. But this is only the com- 
 mencement; we must finish by recomposition ; if we stop 
 here, we only produce dissections ; and the objects are 
 deprived of warmth, motion, and life. These habits of analy- 
 sis produce great penetration of mind, but this penetration 
 may degenerate into subtility ; the mind may lose a portion 
 of its nerve and vigor, and become less capable of combining 
 anew the objects of meditation. The disposition which 
 multiplies doubts, will have fewer means of freeing itself, 
 because it will be more skilful in making problems, than in 
 furnishing means of solving them. Such a direction of the 
 intellectual faculties reacts upon the moral faculties ; it pro- 
 duces irresolution and withering of heart. If the philo- 
 sophic spirit is such an abberration, there is no doubt we 
 
INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 369 
 
 should dread its influence on moral progress; but why give 
 this title to what is not the spirit of true philosophy? The 
 latter does not leave its operations incomplete ; its analyses 
 are preparations; it separates only to reunite: it does not 
 destroy ; it transforms and regenerates. 
 
 In general, those habits of mind which become prejudicial 
 to the character, by the influence they exercise upon it, are 
 precisely those which in consequence of some abuse or de- 
 viation, would be really hurtful to the understanding itself, 
 even when giving to it perhaps, some exuberance of special 
 capacity. 
 
 It happens that this investigating spirit, which is the eye 
 of the understanding, if it directs itself too exclusively to 
 what is external, forgets the use of internal reflection ; and 
 therefore, with much science, there will be little self-knowl- 
 edge, and from want of inward vigilance, we easily become 
 the prey of anarchy of heart. Then the culture of the 
 moral faculties will languish in its principle ; for beside the 
 distraction of the world and of pleasure, there is another 
 distraction which is less fatal doubtless, but which, taking 
 away the habit of self-communion, deprives us of abundant 
 resources. 
 
 But have not the inaction and torpor and wanderings of 
 the intellectual faculties deleterious influences, when acting 
 upon the character more directly ? Is not insensibility often 
 the consequence of dissipation of mind? How many times 
 our faults spring from inattention, as well as our errors, and 
 might be defined a distraction of soul ! Virtue is rather 
 neglected, misconceived, forgotten, than openly violated. 
 Certainly the more the mind is elevated and extended, the 
 better it will appreciate the vast relations of moral truth to 
 human destiny, to social prosperity, and individual happi- 
 ness. The science of virtue then is the inheritance of great 
 minds. Let us give to our intellectual faculties the educa- 
 tion which they require, and far from having any thing to fear 
 concerning their progress, we should employ them for our 
 
370 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 moral amelioration. Let us exercise them upon complete, just^ 
 and solid ideas, accustoming them to take right and regular 
 views, and to remain faithful to nature. In the noble labors 
 of intellect, especially, let us always be animated by worthy 
 motives ! Let the true and the good always be invoked 
 with sincerity, and consequently sought for their own sakes ! 
 Let us take care not to make them food for self-love; or 
 stifle with venal intentions those happy influences, which 
 might come to us. Let us never forget that the true and 
 the beautiful are the common property of humanity ; that 
 the success obtained in their search should not become an 
 instrument for our pretensions, but the means of spreading 
 abroad invaluable benefits. 
 
 Philosophers have constantly accused imagination of being 
 the irreconcilable enemy of reason, morality, and happiness ; 
 considering it as the source of the illusions that lead us astray, 
 of the ambition which excites us so excessively, and of all 
 the agitations of our hearts. These views are in some 
 respects but too just. Disorders of imagination may cor- 
 rupt, in a thousand ways, our ideas of excellence, cover 
 them with a thick cloud, and give a fatal taint to the worship 
 of which they are the object. Imagination should be our 
 servant ; if it is abandoned to itself, the order of things is 
 reversed, and Self-government is inevitably enfeebled. 
 Hence we remark, that the abuse of imagination enervates 
 the character, giving new vivacity to sensible impressions, 
 which in their nature are all passive. It furnishes Abun- 
 dant aliment to the passions ; it destroys peace, the princi- 
 ple of true force ; it substitutes soft and fugitive pictures 
 for the solid substance of reality ; it gives power to illusions 
 over the soul, which, in the midst of trials, is called to 
 strengthen itself by resistance ; it hides the combat, in order 
 to dispense with the labor of vanquishing ; it leads into rev- 
 erie him who was destined to act seriously in a positive 
 world, offering him only light, transitory objects, subject to 
 his own good pleasure ; it transforms his existence into a 
 
INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 371 
 
 vain sport, the government of himself into a kind of anarchy, 
 and leaves a free course to all the aberrations of independ- 
 ence. There is in the exercises of imagination some thing 
 voluptuous, which lulls the soul to sleep. We breathe and 
 feel with extreme vivacity, but as if in a dream. In a word, 
 this capricious faculty resists in a thousand ways the inflex- 
 ible and austere rules of right; disorder of ideas gives birth 
 to disorder of feelings. Among the different kinds of illu- 
 sions of which the aberrations of imagination may be the 
 source, there is one which demands to be pointed out 
 especially, because the snares it spreads are most subtle, 
 and may surprise the most honest. These are the illusions, 
 which lead us astray in self-knowledge, deceiving us con- 
 cerning our own sentiments, concerning the reality and the 
 strength of our attachment to virtue; these are the illusions, 
 which encompass us by enjoyments purely speculative, and 
 put us into a state of exaltation by the images of an ideal 
 perfection, which charm our mind, without taking posses- 
 sion of our soul, without governing our character, without 
 impressing itself upon our life. These images of perfection 
 compose for us a sort of artificial and deceptive morality, 
 converting virtue into a kind of delicious poetry ; but ban- 
 ishing it into the clouds, and taking from it that deep, secret, 
 positive power, which it ought to exercise over our senti- 
 ments and actions ; as if virtue were a recreation or an 
 ornament, and not the rule of our existence. As wisdom 
 proceeds by making sensible objects give birth to moral 
 notions ; so imagination proceeds, on the contrary, by 
 making moral notions take sensible forms, and veiiing 
 abstract conceptions in sensible figures. Let us defend 
 ourselves then from a disposition, too common at present, 
 of considering subjects belonging to the most serious des- 
 tinies of man, under that aspect which we call their poetic 
 side. We expose ourselves by this to make those artificial 
 chords which charm the imagination, prevail over the 
 solemn harmonies of duty, to take elegance of forms for 
 
372 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 real goodness, grace for truth, the symbol for thethinor; 
 introducing into the sound and pure worship of virtue 
 a sort of superstition and idolatry. 
 
 But may not philosophy take a more just view of this 
 brilliant faculty of the mind? May not morality itself 
 recognise important services which might be deduced from 
 it ? Confined to its legitimate functions, directed to its true 
 destination, may not this faculty, like all others, contribute 
 to the progress of our character ? What is this power, 
 which puts us in possession of the future, transports us to all 
 distances, makes us conceive objects invisible to sense, 
 introduces us to what is merely possible, sustains our 
 strength by hope, extends the narrow sphere of our exis- 
 tence beyond the limits of the present? May it not, by 
 deepening the sources of our sensibility, fertilize the field 
 of our virtue ? May it not, by refreshing and embellish- 
 ing our inward life with pure and innocent enjoyment, 
 restore our strength? May it not, by attaching us to the 
 contemplation of nature, conduct us, by that alone, to a great 
 and instructive school ? We would not leave our virtue to 
 evaporate in a vain, fantastic poetry, but let us permit 
 poetry to put itself in the service of virtue, to bring near to 
 us the divine model, to lend its eloquence and its graces to 
 the austere voice of duty. This entirely moral poetry, the 
 messenger of excellence. Providence has made to appear in 
 all its works. It breathes in all the scenes of nature, if we 
 can but consider them, not with the eye of the body alone, 
 but with the attentive and collected eye of the soul. It 
 resounds in the hymn of creation ; it borrows majesty from 
 the phenomena of the heavens, varied and graceful expres- 
 sions from landscapes and simple flowers. It breathes in 
 the songs of man, when, as the worthy interpreter of this 
 universal concert, he restores the image of virtue to those 
 scenes which seem to invoke it, and which become anima- 
 ted by its presence. It breathes also in the monuments 
 raised to the memory of great men, and to the remembrance 
 
INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 373 
 
 of great actions ; in public solemnities, sacred to the honor 
 of what merits respect, and to the confirmation of the ties 
 which unite the members of society ; in the imposing 
 circumstances, which surround the magistrate, and decorate 
 the temple of the laws. It is this poetry, which raises the 
 standard, at the sight of which patriotism rallies ; which 
 gathers the palm decreed to heroes ; which composes all 
 the attributes of glory. Let those creative arts, then, which 
 are the pride and the light of the earth, gather round the 
 holy image of virtue ! Let them announce its presence, 
 and be transported in contemplating it with a truer and 
 surer enthusiasm, than can be drawn from earthly senti- 
 ments, and thus render themselves worthy of receiving from 
 it an order of immortal beauties ! 
 
 If we understand the true vocation ofthe imagination, and 
 the spirit in which it ought to be cultivated and exercised, 
 and its productions conceived and enjoyed, our soul will not 
 drink poison, but salutary beverage from its brilliant cup. 
 
 Reason presiding over our intellectual faculties, moderator, 
 regulator, supreme arbiter, assigns to each, its department, 
 its functions, its limits. Its attributes consist in this high 
 prerogative, in the empire which it grants to the mind over 
 itself Armed with method, it classifies, plans out, distrib- 
 utes ; armed with judgment, and supported upon good sense, 
 it weighs and decides ; order and truth are its domain. It 
 takes care of our intellectual progress, being charged to 
 obtain general harmony. Its energy should always grow in 
 proportion to the developement of the subordinate faculties. 
 Here, at least, no fatal influence is to be feared ; all thp 
 influences will be salutary. If reason is not virtue itself, 
 as some wise men have pretended, it is at least its sister; 
 having the same aspect, the same language, recognising the 
 same authority, obeying the same rules, following in a thou- 
 sand things the same paths, with a mutual intelligence and 
 communication. Habits of order and of regularity, estab- 
 lished in ideas, are communicated insensibly to sentiments 
 32 
 
374, SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 in the whole system of life : serenity of mind favors peace 
 of soul. Error has no good fruits : when it is allied to 
 moral sentiment, in an -unlawful union, the strength, given 
 us to do good, is not only dissipated in useless applications, 
 but is directed against the true end, tormenting others and 
 ourselves under the most honorable pretexts. The false 
 associations of ideas, which impose, under the name of 
 morality, imaginary duties, tend often, by inevitable conse- 
 quence, to corrupt, at the foundation, the purity of sentiment 
 that belongs to real duties ; for frequent occasions present 
 themselves, in which conventional and factitious precepts 
 are at war with the rules immediately dictated by con- 
 science. Hence, at least, arise perplexities, enfeebling the 
 authority of conscience, if indeed conscience is not stifled 
 by the blind and mechanical force of habit. Can filial 
 piety, in its primitive integrity, possibly exist in the heart of 
 the son, to whom is prescribed (as often happens on the 
 coast of Malabar) the factitious duty of sacrificing his 
 mother on the tomb of her husband ] What an infinity of 
 false consequences and unexpected errors must spring from 
 this one error ! Truth need not be feared, when in its 
 place : and can it be out of its place? Morality does not 
 fear profound and complete investigations : it only fears 
 superficial and frivolous views. Good sense is the friend, 
 the guardian of virtue ; protecting rectitude of intention 
 and calmness of heart, and fortifying the soul by the plen- 
 titude of conviction. Communication with truth preserves 
 security, confidence, constancy, resolution, and dignity of 
 character. 
 
 When we have become capable of governing our minds, 
 shall we not become better capable of directing aright the 
 movements of the heart ? Shall we not have more means 
 of self-knowledge, and consequently of moral self-govern- 
 ment ? 
 
 We may remark, however, that men given up to a life of 
 study, are in general exposed to feebleness of character. 
 
EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 375 
 
 But it is not to the developement which the intellectual fac- 
 ulties have received, that this effect is to be attributed ; it 
 is to the want of equilibrium between the powers of the 
 intellect and those of the will. They have not enough 
 occasions of willing and of acting in external life. Hence 
 such men have a peculiar necessity of domestic affections, 
 which may maintain a harmony of the faculties of the heart 
 with those of the mind, and afford some active exercises 
 which will make them useful to others. The more the 
 objects of constant study have the character of generality, 
 the more necessary it becomes, that a beneficent external 
 life should particularize objects of activity, and be individu- 
 alized upon persons. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 RELIGION CONSIDERED AS THE ACCOMPLISHMENT OF MAN's 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 The moral faculties of man aspire to Religion, and Re- 
 ligion, in her turn, by satisfying their demands gives them 
 the most favorable culture. The religious sentiment, im- 
 planted in the heart by Providence, awaits for its develope- 
 ment the simple and sublime idea of a Supreme Benefactor, 
 and then is unfolded, as naturally as filial affection in the 
 child who knows his parent. Constantly strengthened and en- 
 lightened by experience and reflection, it germinates in the 
 bosom of conscience, as in its native soul ; explaining, en- 
 riching, and bringing to perfection every moral impulse in 
 man. Without it, the intelligent creature is but an abortion, 
 a fruit detached from the universal tree of creation without 
 having attained its maturity. 
 
376 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 In the origin of civilization, Religion is the first instructer 
 of human society. She is the mother of arts, of sciences, 
 of public morals, and even of laws. As civilization ad- 
 vances, she affords clearer light : and applying herself to 
 morals and to happiness, becomes, in relation to man, more 
 beneficent, more grand, and more pure. In like manner 
 she begins with individuals, impressing the heart of the 
 young child with the first knowledge of justice and good- 
 ness ; awakening the sentiment of duty ; and, after having 
 accompanied him in all the trials of life, when his organs 
 become weakened, and terrestrial things vanish, she brings 
 him new strength and opens new prospects. Never does 
 she appear more touching or more venerable than when she 
 enlightens with her divine rays the morning and evening of 
 existence. She is the Alpha and Omega of our destiny ; 
 the wisdom of infancy, and the youth of old age. 
 
 If the road travelled by us here below, is but a great and 
 continual preparation, we may remark, that Religion em- 
 braces its whole course, contributing to our education, and 
 possessing all the conditions which are neccessary to render 
 this education as complete and fruitful as possible. Very 
 different from school education, Religion addresses the 
 most intimate faculties of the soul ; nourishing and devel- 
 oping them at the same time that it regulates their exercise ; 
 cultivating them all at once, and in harmony with each 
 other ; directing them constantly to practical applications, 
 addressing their vital principle, and giving them the highest 
 degree of purity and energy. The religious sentiment, the 
 sentiment which is expressed in adoration, includes at once, 
 love, respect, submission, gratitude, and confidence : it is 
 the worship of power, wisdom, infinite goodness, and infinite 
 justice : there is, then, not a moral sentiment which it does 
 not embrace, strengthening its principle and extending its 
 sphere. But communicating to the soul a singular eleva- 
 tion, it also constantly recalls it to simplicity and modesty, 
 restoring while it softens it ; moderating while it animates 
 
EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 377 
 
 it ; associating self-distrust with the most heroic courage ; 
 and, as it at once offers to the creature, both the model of 
 that ideal perfection towards which it directs the most noble 
 affections of the heart, and the prospect of an unbounded 
 futurity of existence, it constantly excites him to progress ; 
 at the same time powerfully aiding his efforts by the com- 
 munion it establishes between the soul and its eternal Crea- 
 tor. 
 
 As by loving, we learn to love : so by loving what is 
 truly worthy of being loved, we comprehend all that this 
 great sentiment involves. Love, in the bosom of religion, 
 recognises its essence and original source ; from which it 
 flows constantly, all alive and animated with immortal 
 youth; and in which it is purified as in celestial fire, and 
 spreads over the earth with abundant fullness, to enrich and 
 enlighten every thing. If the relations of a moment, found- 
 ed on a community of limited interests, suffice to create 
 lively affections, what must be the legitimate effect of those 
 eternal bonds, which embrace all that is most profound and 
 most real in our existence? Instructed by religion, shall we 
 not recognise, in all the beings who are united to us by so- 
 ciety or by nature, a sacred deposit, confided to us by per- 
 fect and infinite love ; shall we not discover the connexion 
 of a grand fraternity ; does not humanity become a family 
 bond, a community of the future ; can there be any being 
 unknown, any stranger to him, who reads, on the forehead 
 of his brother, the character imprinted by the hand of God 
 himself? Piety, from one extremity of the earth to the 
 other, is a holy and magnificent sympathy of hearts. And 
 what name can we give to the affections (nature's most 
 precious gift), if we despoil them of the religious sentiment, 
 which is their soul ? Will they be a charm or a poison ? 
 Shall we be satisfied or deceived by them ? Without religion, 
 what would remain to be shared with those we love ? In 
 what thoughts should we understand one another? Ah, how 
 poor would be our language ; with what trembling would 
 32* 
 
378 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 our eyes meet ! With what despair should we bid farewell, 
 and lose each other ! Should we really belong to each other 
 here below 1 Our souls would but touch in passing ; they 
 could not mingle together. Love and happiness, the appa- 
 rent ends of our destiny, would contradict each other. The 
 selfish man would alone be prudent. Well 1 Let selfishness 
 and irreligion triumph together ; snows, darkness, and anni- 
 hilation are their empire. Oh, deprived of religion, what is 
 man 1 What does he find in himself to love, to cherish, to 
 protect ? What a melancholy sterility remains even in the eyes 
 of selfishness! But give this feeble, restless creature, reli- 
 gion ; he can then love himself justly and really, and taste 
 some sweetness, and find some fruit even in this solitary affec- 
 tion : the instinct which leads him to self, will be legitimate 
 and satisfactory : and though separated from all created 
 things, and seeing all disappear from vision, all will still 
 remain to him ; for the Infinite will remain, the object of his 
 worship, the end his hopes. 
 
 The universal attraction of insensible matter completely 
 attains its end ; preserving the universal harmony of visible 
 nature. And will the noble attraction of hearts be deceived 
 in its object ? will they gravitate towards each other to be 
 forever repulsed ? can there be a principle of perpetual and 
 general discord in the most beautiful region of the universe? 
 
 Religion excites to sacrifice ; and sacrifice has been the 
 general and fundamental condition of religious worship, in 
 all times and places. Without taking pains to seek any 
 other explanation of this historical phenomenon, is it not 
 because love, even unconsciously to itself, is the vital prin- 
 ciple of religion ] We love but to bestow : the stronger our 
 affection, the more it tends to sacrifice : and man has never 
 found any thing sufficiently precious for a holocaust. This 
 exercise of immolation is the education of generosity; but 
 how easy it will be to give ourselves for our fellow-men, 
 when we feel that in this we devote ourselves to God ! This 
 is the real holocaust which piety seeks and goodness points 
 out. 
 
EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 379 
 
 Religion is a science simple in its elements, but immense 
 in its applications. Is not the beautiful definition of Bacon 
 eminently applicable to it ? for where is there a more " grand 
 interpretation of nature?" And the portion of nature 
 best interpreted by it, is precisely that which touches us the 
 most nearly, is the most essential to our happiness, the most 
 necessary to the exercise of our activity, — that which alone 
 comes home to us, and is our very destiny. But Religion 
 tells us more even of the least insect and plant, than all the 
 art of the zoologist or botanist : the latt-er show us the work, 
 Religion the author. Religion alone unrolls the chain of 
 causes, and explains the notion of cause ; for there are no 
 causes without the great First Cause : and what is true 
 science but the theory of causation ? What exercises give 
 more grave or serious habits to the mind ? What concep- 
 tions give a more vast sphere to its ideas, or place it in a 
 point of view so elevated? What notions make it so com- 
 pletely comprehend order, that great instrument in the 
 operations of the human mind? What influences introduce 
 it so directly to meditation, rendering meditation easier, 
 sweeter, and at the same time more profound ? Religion, 
 the inward teacher, carrying the eye of reflection over all 
 the secrets of the soul, is the lamp of the intellectual life. 
 It is the polar star of genius, the supreme link of the great 
 plan, the high revelation which connects the visible to the 
 invisible, the known to the unknown, the outward universe to 
 thought. Thus poetry and the arts, when they attempt their 
 highest flight, when they wish to immortalize their works, 
 if they dare not directly invoke this celestial power, seek 
 at least, in their fictions, the appearance of her shadow, and 
 some features stolen from her venerable image. 
 
 Mind, without Religion, wanders through the universe 
 exiled, solitary, and, as it were, lost; perceiving only a 
 surface, from which it is reflected, but finding no focus for 
 its rays. In Religion it finds a country ; its light becomes 
 a vivifying ray, instead of being a fugitive spark. 
 
380 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 What is most remarkable in the education, given by 
 Religion to the affections of the heart and the powers of the 
 mind, is this, — that, in developing them, she directs with 
 certainty, and by open and short paths, towards that moral 
 perfection, which is their proper object. 
 
 There is not a single one of the duties, prescribed by nat- 
 ural morality, that Religion doesnotprescribe and ennoble by 
 consecrating ; there is no counsel of wisdom or prudence, 
 that is not recommended by her, that is not raised to a higher 
 degree of perfection, and established upon a firmer basis. 
 The code of excellence receives from her an august promul- 
 gation ; and as, in fact, this code is engraven on our hearts 
 by God himself, morality, eternal as its author, is thus 
 revealed in its origin and essence. The consequence reas- 
 cends to its principle and receives merely a new confirma- 
 tion. Law is no longer alone, but the Legislator appears 
 and unveils himself, to republish and sanction what he has 
 already written in the sanctuary of conscience. 
 
 The understanding of the rules of duty is sometimes ob- 
 scure, and difficult. In Religion all becomes clear, fixed, 
 simple ; rules take a form. Prescriptions of duty sometimes 
 appear dry and hard in abstract speculation ; in Religion, 
 they become animated, personified, full of sentiment, and 
 express themselves in most eloquent language. When pre- 
 sented to the religious man in its true aspect, the order of 
 society appears to him as an institution founded by the Au- 
 thor of all things : the justice of human laws becomes an 
 expression of eternal justice ; legitimate power, a delega- 
 tion from on high ; the place assigned to himself, a voca- 
 tion ; thus, he accepts his lot whatever it is, and lives, be- 
 cause he knows whom he obeys, and because in obeying he 
 trusts him. 
 
 Man is but an instrument. Religion confirms this truth ; 
 but what a noble instrument he becomes in her hands. Of 
 all visible agents he becomes the first, because he alone 
 knows the invisible Mover, to whom he serves as a lever ; 
 
EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 381 
 
 he alone associates himself in the designs of this great Di- 
 rector by the power of thought. If, in disposing of himself, 
 he exercises a control, this control supposes an authority, a 
 right. Who confers them upon him ? This empire over 
 himself, that we called a magistracy, we may now call a 
 priesthood ; for man becomes in regard to himself, the 
 minister of God, and the dispenser of his benefits. An 
 emancipated child, he rejoices in his liberty, because he 
 may freely accomplish his father's will. Invested with reli- 
 gious dignity, he respects himself; he esteems himself with- 
 out pride ; and, in circumstances reputed the lowest by the 
 prejudices of the world, claims a noble title, of which the 
 world is ignorant. This sense of dignity will be so much 
 the more modest and benevolent, as it is more just. What 
 does he possess but the benefactions ofthe common Father ; 
 and why does he possess them, but that he may spread them ? 
 Behold him freed from the tyranny of opinion ; what im- 
 ports the judgment of the frivolous spectators who direct 
 it? He moves in the presence of a high witness, even truth 
 itself. Supported under the weight of his own weakness, 
 secure in danger, comforted in grief, surrounded by an all- 
 powerful protection, attached to a better world by bonds 
 which nothing can sever, he does not exhaust himself by a 
 stern resistance, but seeks refuge in a serene and gentle 
 resignation, born of submission and confidence. Through 
 the sombre clouds accumulated round him by heart-rending 
 sorrows, wounded in all his affections, he sees that luminous 
 ray, which, descending from heaven, shines through and 
 dissipates the gloom. The religious man, though alone, 
 and deserted by the whole world, still finds one to console 
 him ; condemned to unlimited suffering, he still preserves 
 hope. Earth has its heroes; Religion alone has its mar- 
 tyrs. 
 
 Religion alone explains the terrible and deep mystery of 
 grief, in those forms in which it penetrates to the bottom of 
 the soul : she does not dry our tears, but aids them in their 
 
382 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 course. Ye, who know the secret of such grief, can under- 
 stand how she thus solaces. 
 
 Religion alone leaves to human faults an indefinite hope 
 of pardon ; that hope which the world so often refuses, 
 which even conscience sometimes dares not grant ; that 
 restoring hope, indispensable for curing its wounds, and for 
 rendering them profitable. 
 
 Not only do the Love of Excellence and Self-government 
 thus find in Religion their most powerful direct auxiliary ; but 
 all the secondary means, also, which concur in the educa- 
 tion of these two great moral powers, receive from it the most 
 energetic assistance. Thus the joys of virtue are not simply 
 the satisfactions given by the testimony of conscience ; they 
 are the effusions of a celestial joy ; the joy of gratitude 
 which is permitted to acquit itself, the joy of love which 
 may express itself. Thus the prudence recommended by 
 duty, is not merely a wise forecast for the happiness of a 
 few moments, but a dispensation calculated for an immense 
 future. Thus the admiration excited by the idea of su- 
 preme excellence, is not an enthusiasm for an abstract or 
 speculative beauty ; it is a worship of excellence itself, 
 personified and living, of which every thing good or beau- 
 tiful is but the reflection. Thus order, which is revealed in 
 the plan of creation, in the physical and moral world, pen- 
 etrating us like a vast and continual melody, establishes and 
 maintains the concert of our faculties. Thus, peace, the 
 first of blessings, giving strength to the heart, and light to 
 the mind ; the source of all interior freedom ; peace, the vital 
 element, in which alone wisdom breathes, acquires a strength 
 before unknown ; and mortal creatures, fatigued and agita- 
 ted by the storms of time, repose in a sublime communion 
 with Him whom nothing agitates, because he is infinite, 
 because in him all is immutable. 
 
 Even the inferior order of our sensitive faculties is awak- 
 ened, and escapes the narrow bounds of animal life, roused 
 from the tomb of matter by the holy voice of Religion; all 
 
EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 383 
 
 nature takes a soul and a language responding to our spirit; 
 the universe is opened, as the temple of the Most High ; the 
 phenomena of the heavens appear as his messengers ; the fruits 
 of the earth grow as witnesses and organs of his kindness ; 
 the simplest flowers speak his indulgent goodness ; the sight of 
 a clear sky, a starry night, the air we breathe, the ocean, even 
 the tempest, all speak to us of God. Public worship, spread- 
 ing over the earth like heavenly dew, vivifies, consecrates, 
 decorates the imposing scene of creation, by associating it 
 with His Spirit. Privaffe worship favors, by religious medi- 
 tation, the exercise of self-recollection and reflection. Do- 
 mestic worship purifies and protects the obscure asylum, in 
 which the days of our earthly life pass, and exhibits the holi- 
 est spectacle on earth, virtue in adoration of God ; making 
 of one little spot a sort of universe, filled as it is by the 
 presence of God. Public worship transforms civil society 
 into a moral community, and the concourse of individuals 
 who were strangers to each other, into a family union. Its 
 festivals are a necessary rest, both in rural and city life ; 
 its solemnities break the monotony of time, and give a charm 
 to the repose merited by long labor : its ceremonies hallow 
 the most important eras of human destiny, as well as the 
 revolutions of the seasons ; giving to joy a graver character, 
 to grief a mysterious sweetness ; nourishing pious remem- 
 brances, and keeping up a holy communion between those 
 who survive and those who have departed ; and covering the 
 tomb with emblems of immortality. 
 
 Thus Religion conduces to, and accomplishes, the educa- 
 tion of mankind in society as in the individual. Moreover, 
 life would cease to be an education, if Religion did not mark 
 out its end ; for it would cease to be a preparation, and the 
 work would be wasted. 
 
 But, that the power of Religion may be effectual, it should 
 preserve in their integrity the conditions whence its admi- 
 rable effects emanate. We find in its code this great max- 
 im ; Nothing is worse than the corruption of the best. Now 
 
384 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 its characteristics depend upon two essential points: our 
 inward religion should be that of love ; our worship should 
 be the sincere expression of our inward religion : the vio- 
 lation of the first rule brings fanaticism ; that of the second 
 rule brings superstition, terrible in its ravages, in proportion 
 to the strength of the religious principle. Selfishness may 
 find in it food for pride, and become more exclusive, fero- 
 cious, and obdurate. Sensuality may degrade and make it 
 subservient to gross and material interests. Ignorance may 
 misconceive its true spirit, turn it against its true end, and 
 bring it into' contempt and abhorrence. The externals of 
 religion may be assumed in bad faith, and engender the 
 monster, hypocrisy. They may even produce that most 
 fatal hypocrisy, by which man succeeds in deceiving himself, 
 the only error which has no remedy. 
 
 If this magnificent gift of Heaven is not received into a 
 sound mind and pure heart, it is adulterated by all our 
 errors, and corrupted by all our passions. Woe, woe to him, 
 who degrades Religion by making it an instrument instead 
 of an end, the first end of life; who makes it an accomplice 
 of those errors of which it ought to be the remedy ! He 
 has dared to condemn to a base subserviency the august 
 queen of the world. And to what end is she made subservi- 
 ent ? To power, or to vanity, or to avarice, or to ambition ? 
 There remains nothing else. And is not this idolatry ? For 
 what is an idol but any earthly object, which usurps the 
 worship due to the Creator alone? Woe to him, who has 
 dared to employ Religion as a means of oppressing, tor- 
 menting, afflicting others, despoiling them of their rights, 
 of their noblest riches, the treasures of the mind and heart, 
 when this Eternal Benefactress would distribute, to all, light 
 and happiness with love ! This is sacrilege ; there is no 
 other. 
 
 To have traced the characteristics which constitute Reli- 
 gion in its purity, — is it not to have named the regenerating 
 worship ? Is it not to have named Christianity ? In this 
 
EVERYTHING LEADS TO RELIGION. 385 
 
 picture, do we not recognise her features? Is there on 
 earth another worship, which has the essential characteristics 
 of true religion ? What other has placed all law in the love of 
 God and of men, all worship in adoring in spirit and in truth ? 
 What other has consoled the world with the parable of the 
 Prodigal Son ? What other has said, " Suffer little children to 
 come unto me ; " '^ Blessed are the peaceful, blessed are the 
 simple ; blessed are the afflicted ; blessed are those, who suifer 
 persecution for the sake of justice ? " What other has consol- 
 ed the humble, and brought low the proud ? A secret instinct 
 has taught all nations, that initiations are to be obtained bv 
 trials : Christianity has explained this great mystery. It has 
 elevated sacrifice and immolation to a sublime dignity. It 
 has restored the idea of infinite perfection. In society it has 
 proclaimed universal equality, the basis of all justice; in 
 its application to individuals, it has taught the secrets of 
 self-discipline, and sounded the mysteries of the heart, to 
 satisfy all its wants. It has been upon earth the most pow- 
 erful promoter of moral progress, because it has detached 
 the mind from the thraldom of the senses, and the heart 
 from the bonds of the passions, without misconceiving the 
 conditions and the exigences of our nature; because it has 
 made the essence of religion consist in progress itself 
 
 Christianity has the incontestable glory of having formed, 
 in all classes of society, and in the most humble conditions 
 as well as in the most elevated, the most accomplished mod- 
 els of perfection that the world has offered. History shows 
 no devotion more generous, no triumph over self more com- 
 plete, than those which are peculiar to its records. It has 
 pursued selfishness into its last asylum, and under all its 
 forms, — pride, vanity, self-love ; and it alone, perhaps, has 
 succeeded in destroying it completely. 
 
 Philosophy studies man and nature : it examines the laws 
 of the universe, and of those faculties which set man on its 
 throne; it has arrived at three great results; truth, happi- 
 ness, and duty. Enlightened by this study, it discovers 
 33 
 
386 SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 beyond space and time, and above the invisible world, Him 
 in vi^hom all exist, live, and move, thus placing the most 
 noble of creatures in the hands of Religion, which alone can 
 explain and accomplish his destiny. Thus reason pays a 
 just and solemn homage to its Author. Happy and proud 
 at thus having renewed the chain of being, and achieved its 
 work, the intellect goes out again into nature, gathering up 
 the influences of this sublime adoption ; finding in Religion 
 the source of a new life and new light, and hence feeling 
 itself animated with a deeper wisdom. 
 
 Philosophy still respectfully placing herself in the train of 
 Religion, will not cease to accompany man in this new and 
 elevated existence : teaching him to cultivate the faculties, 
 of which Religion shows him the value, and invites him to 
 make the best use ; assisting him to prevent and to rectify 
 the aberrations, that Religion disavows and deplores ; ren- 
 dering Religion more honored by showing its claims, and 
 more useful in our eyes by recounting its benefits. 
 
 Finally, by proving the perfect accordance of true Philos- 
 ophy and Religion, Philosophy serves, and especially in this 
 age, the dearest interests of the cause of both. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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