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Leon" and "Caleb Williams," Mrs. Shelley's "Frankenstein," Shelley's "Zastrozzi" and "St. Irvine the Rosicrucian," and the American Charles Brockden Brown's "Ormond" and "Wieland," forerunners of Hawthorne and Poe; tales of sleep-walkers and ventriloquists, of persons who are in pursuit of the elixir vitae , or who have committed the unpardonable sin, or who manufacture monsters in their laboratories, or who walk about in the Halls of Eblis, carrying their burning hearts in their hands.

He says that it was a "broad, bold, free, and most picturesque delineation of real characters, manners, and events. A singular figure now comes upon our stage, Matthew Gregory Lewis, commonly nicknamed "Monk" Lewis, from the title of his famous romance. It is a part of the irony of things that so robust a muse as Walter Scott's should have been nursed in infancy by a little creature like Lewis.

His "Monk" had been published in , when the author was only twenty. The latter was collecting materials for his "Tales of Wonder," and when Erskine showed him Scott's "William and Helen" and "The Wild Huntsman," and told him that he had other things of the kind in manuscript, Lewis begged that Scott would contribute to his collection. Erskine accordingly put him in communication with Scott, who felt highly flattered by the Monk's request, and wrote to him that his ballads were quite at his service.

Lewis replied, thanking him for the offer. This boyishness went through life with him. He was a child and a spoiled child, but a child of high imagination; and so he wasted himself on ghost stories and German romances. Byron, by the way, had always a kindly feeling for Lewis, though he laughed at him in "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers":. In , while on his way to Italy, Lewis sojourned for a space with Byron and Shelley in their Swiss retreat and set the whole company composing goblin stories.

The most remarkable outcome of this queer symposium was Mrs. Shelley's abnormal romance, "Frankenstein. It was two years after this, and on his return voyage from a visit to these West Indian estates, that Lewis died of yellow fever and was buried at sea. Byron made this note of it in his diary:. Scott's modesty led him to depreciate his own verses as compared with Lewis', some of which he recited to Ballantyne, in , speaking of their author, says Lockhart, "with rapture.

Lewis would appear to have inherited his romantic turn from his mother, a sentimental little dame whose youthful looks caused her often to be taken for Mat's sister, and whose reading was chiefly confined to novels. The poor lady was something of a blue-stocking and aspired, herself, to literary honors. Lewis' devotion to her is very charming, and the elder-brotherly tone of his letters to her highly amusing. But he had a dislike of "female authorship": and the rumor having reached his ear that his mother had written a novel and a tragedy and was preparing to print them, he wrote to her in alarm, begging her to stay her hand.

I always consider a female author as a sort of half-man. Lewis' favorite books was "Glanvil on Witches. Mompesson's house. In the ancient mansion of Stanstead Hall, belonging to a kinsman of his father, where the boy spent a part of his childhood, there was a haunted chamber known as the cedar room. Lewis' first and most celebrated publication was "Ambrosio, or the Monk" , a three-volume romance of the Gothic type, and a lineal descendant of Walpole and Mrs. He began it at Oxford in , describing it in a letter to his mother as "a romance in the style of 'The Castle of Otranto.

For years Lewis was one of the most active intermediaries between the German purveyors of the terrible and the English literary market. He fed the stage with melodramas and operas, and stuffed the closet reader with ballads and prose romances. When you read it, tell me whether you think there is any resemblance between the character given of Montoni.

I confess that it struck me. It passed from hand to hand into that of Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, who, hearing the general voice affirm that it was very like, said aloud, 'Like Mat Lewis! Why, that picture's like a man. It had Spanish grandees, heroines of dazzling beauty, bravoes and forest banditti, foolish duennas and gabbling domestics, monks, nuns, inquisitors, magic mirrors, enchanted wands, midnight incantations, sorcerers, ghosts, demons; haunted chambers, wainscoated in dark oak; moonlit castles with ruined towers and ivied battlements, whose galleries rang with the shrieks and blasphemies of guilty spirits, and from whose portals issued, when the castle clock tolled one, the specter of a bleeding nun, with dagger and lamp in hand.

There were poisonings, stabbings, and ministrations of sleeping potions; beauties who masqueraded as pages, and pages who masqueraded as wandering harpers; secret springs that gave admittance to winding stairs leading down into the charnel vaults of convents, where erring sisters were immured by cruel prioresses and fed on bread and water among the loathsome relics of the dead. With all this, "The Monk" is a not wholly contemptible work.

There is a certain narrative power about it which puts it much above the level of "The Castle of Otranto. Radcliffe's romances, it has neither the excess of scenery nor of sentiment which distinguishes that very prolix narrator. There is nothing strictly mediaeval about it. The knight in armor cuts no figure and the historical period is not precisely indicated. The hero Ambrosio is the abbot of St. Francis' Capuchin monastery in Madrid; a man of rigid austerity, whose spiritual pride makes him an easy prey to the temptations of a female demon, who leads him by degrees through a series of crimes, including incest and parricide, until he finally sells his soul to the devil to escape from the dungeons of the Inquisition and the auto da fe , subscribing the agreement, in approved fashion, upon a parchment scroll with an iron pen dipped in blood from his own veins.

The fiend, who enters with thunder and lightning, over whose shoulders "waved two enormous sable wings," and whose hair "was supplied by living snakes," then snatches up his victim and soars with him to a peak of the Sierra Morena, where in a Salvator Rosa landscape of torrents, cliffs, caverns, and pine forests, by the light of an opera moon, and to the sound of the night wind sighing hoarsely and "the shrill cry of mountain eagles," he drops him over a precipice and makes an end of him.

A passage from the episode of Agnes de Medina, the incarcerated nun, will illustrate Lewis' wonder-working arts: "A faint glimmering of light which strained through the bars permitted me to distinguish the surrounding horrors. I was oppressed by a noisome, suffocating smell; and perceiving that the grated door was unfastened, I thought that I might possibly effect my escape.

As I raised myself with this design, my hand rested upon something soft. I grasped it and advanced it toward the light. Almighty God! In spite of its putridity and the worms which preyed upon it, I perceived a corrupted human head, and recognized the features of a nun who had died some months before. A sepulchral lamp was suspended from the roof by an iron chain and shed a gloomy light through the dungeon. Emblems of death were seen on every side; skills, shoulder-blades, thigh-bones and other relics of mortality were scattered upon the dewy ground.

As I shrunk from the cutting wind which howled through my subterraneous dwelling, the change seemed so striking, so abrupt, that I doubted its reality.

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Sometimes I felt the bloated toad, hideous and pampered with the poisonous vapors of the dungeon, dragging his loathsome length along my bosom; sometimes the quick, cold lizard roused me, leaving his slimy track upon my face, and entangling itself in the tresses of my wild and matted hair. Often have I, at waking, found my fingers ringed with the long worms which bred in the corrupted flesh of my infant.

Lewis tried to defend himself by pleading that the outline and moral of his story were borrowed from "The History of Santon Barsisa" in the Guardian No. But the voluptuous nature of some of the descriptions induced the Attorney General to enjoin the sale of the book, and Lewis bowed to public opinion so far as to suppress the objectionable passages in later editions. Lewis' melodrama "The Castle Specter" was first performed December 14, , at Drury Lane, ran sixty nights and "continued popular as an acting play," says the biographer, "up to a very recent period. Sheridan, who had a poor opinion of it, advised the dramatist to keep the specter out of the last scene.

Sheridan had not advised me to content myself with a single specter, I meant to have exhibited a whole regiment of ghosts. Wroughton, invokes "the fair enchantress, Romance":. The scene of the drama is Conway Castle in Wales, where abides Earl Osmond, a feudal tyrant of the "Otranto" type, who is planning an incestuous marriage with his own niece, concerning which he thus soliloquizes: "What though she prefer a basilisk's kiss to mine?

Because my short-lived joy may cause her eternal sorrow, shall I reject those pleasures sought so long, desired so earnestly? That will I not, by Heaven! Mine she is, and mine she shall be, though Reginald's bleeding ghost flit before me and thunder in my ear 'Hold! He is Osmond's brother and Angela's father, and the wicked Earl thought that he had murdered him. It turns out, however, that, though left for dead, he had recovered of his hurts and has been kept unbeknown in solitary confinement, in a dungeon vault under the castle, for the somewhat long period of sixteen years.

He is discovered in Act V. Reginald's ghost does not flit, but Evelina's does. Evelina is Reginald's murdered wife, and her specter in "white and flowing garments, spotted with blood," appears to Angela in the oratory communicating with the cedar room, which is furnished with an antique bedstead and the portrait of a lady on a sliding panel.

In truth, the castle is uncommonly well supplied with apparitions. Earl Herbert rides around it every night on a white horse; Lady Bertha haunts the west pinnacle of the chapel tower; and Lord Hildebrand may be seen any midnight in the great hall, playing football with his own head. So says Motley the jester, who affords the comedy element of the play, with the help of a fat friar who guzzles sack and stuffs venison pasties, and a soubrette after the "Otranto" pattern. A few poems were scattered through the pages of "The Monk," including a ballad from the Danish, and another from the Spanish.

But the most famous of these was "Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene," original with Lewis, though evidently suggested by "Lenore. At the request of the company, the strange knight raises his visor and discloses a skeleton head:. Arrayed in her bridal apparel of white, Appear in the hall with a skeleton knight And shriek as he whirls her around. Lewis' own contributions to his "Tales of Terror" and "Tales of Wonder," were of his same raw-head and bloody-bones variety.

His imagination rioted in physical horrors. There are demons who gnash with iron fangs and brandish gore-fed scorpions; maidens are carried off by the Winter King, the Water King, the Cloud King, and the Sprite of the Glen; they are poisoned or otherwise done to death, and their wraiths revisit their guilty lovers in their shrouds at midnight's dark hour and imprint clammy kisses upon them with livid lips; gray friars and black canons abound; requiem and death knell sound through the gloom of the cloisters; echo roars through high Gothic arches; the anchorite mutters in his mossy cell; tapers burn dim, torches cast a red glare on vaulted roofs; the night wind blows through dark aisles; the owl hoots in the turret, and dying groans are heard in the lonely house upon the heath, where the black and tattered arras molders on the wall.

John," Scottish tales of "gramarye. For nothing can be in finer contrast with Lewis' penny dreadful, than the martial ring of the verse and the manly vigor of the style in Scott's part of the book. This is how Lewis writes anapaests, e. For down came the Templars like Cedron in flood, And dyed their long lances in Saracen blood. It is no more possible to take Monk Lewis seriously than to take Horace Walpole seriously. They are both like children telling ghost-stories in the dark and trying to make themselves shudder.

Lewis was even frivolous enough to compose paradies on his own ballads. Scott soon found better work for his hands to do than translating German ballads and melodramas; but in later years he occasionally went back to these early sources of romantic inspiration. Scott, Advocate; no doubt the same person who, under the poetical but assumed name of Walter, had since become the most extensively popular of the British writers"! But it led to a slightly acrimonious correspondence between Sir Walter and the Norwich reviewer. The tide of German romance had begun to ebb before the close of the century.

It rose again a few years later, and left perhaps more lasting tokens this second time; but the ripple-marks of its first invasion are still discernible in English poetry and prose. Southey was clearly in error when he wrote to Taylor, September 5, "Coleridge's ballad, 'The Ancient Mariner' is, I think, the clumsiest attempt at German sublimity I ever saw.

He had read "Die Rauber," to be sure, some years before in Tytler's translation. He was at Cambridge at the time, and one night in winter, on leaving the room of a college friend, carelessly picked up and took away with him a copy of the tragedy, the very name of which he had never heard before.

The readers of Schiller will conceive what I felt. The latter was rewritten as "Remorse," put on at Drury Lane January 23, , and ran twenty nights. It had been rejected by Sheridan, who expressed a very proper contempt for it as an acting play. The Rev. Bowles and Byron, who had read it in manuscript and strangely overvalued it, both made interest with the manager to have it tried on the stage.

But Coleridge came in time to hold in low esteem, if not precisely "The Robbers" itself, yet that school of German melodrama of which it was the grand exemplar. In the twenty-third chapter of the "Biographia Literaria" he reviewed with severity the Rev. Aldobrand,"[40] and incidentally gave the genesis of that whole theatric species "which it has been the fashion, of late years, at once to abuse and to enjoy under the name of the German Drama. Of this latter Schiller's 'Robbers' was the earliest specimen, the first-fruits of his youth.

Only as such did the maturer judgment of the author tolerate the play. Germany, rather than Italy or Spain, became under these influences for a time the favored country of romance. English tale-writers chose its forests and dismantled castles as the scenes of their stories of brigandage and assassination. One of the best of a bad class of fictions, e.

Byron read it when he was fourteen, was profoundly impressed by it, and made it the basis of "Werner," the only drama of his which had any stage success. The historic period is the close of the Thirty Years' War. It does not depend mainly for its effect upon the time-honored "Gothic" machinery, though it makes a moderate use of the sliding panel and secret passage once again. We are come to the gate of the new century, to the date of the "Lyrical Ballads" and within sight of the Waverly novels. Looking back over the years elapsed since Thomson put forth his "Winter," in , we ask ourselves what the romantic movement in England had done for literature; if indeed that deserves to be called a "movement" which had no leader, no programme, no organ, no theory of art, and very little coherence.

True, as we have learned from the critical writings of the time, the movement, such as it was, was not all unconscious of its own aims and directions. The phrase "School of Warton" implies a certain solidarity, and there was much interchange of views and some personal contact between men who were in literary sympathy; some skirmishing, too, between opposing camps. Gray, Walpole, and Mason constitute a group, encouraging each other's studies in their correspondence and occasional meetings.

The Wartons were friends of Collins; Collins a friend and neighbor of Thomson; and Thomson a frequent visitor at Hagley and the Leasowes. Chatterton sought to put Rowley under Walpole's protection, and had his verses examined by Mason and Gray. Still, upon the whole, the English romanticists had little community; they worked individually and were scattered and isolated as to their residence, occupations, and social affiliation.

Radcliffe, and Chatterton ever saw each other or any of those first mentioned. But call it a movement, or simply a drift, a trend; what had it done for literature? In the way of stimulus and preparation, a good deal. It had relaxed the classical bandages, widened the range of sympathy, roused a curiosity as to novel and diverse forms of art, and brought the literary mind into a receptive, expectant attitude favorable to original creative activity.

There never was a generation more romantic in temper than that which stepped upon the stage at the close of the eighteenth century: a generation fed upon "Ossian" and Rousseau and "The Sorrows of Werther" and Percy's "Reliques" and Mrs. Radcliffe's romances.

Again, in the department of literary and antiquarian scholarship much had been accomplished. Books like Tyrwhitt's "Chaucer" and Warton's "History of English Poetry" had a real importance, while the collection and preservation of old English poetry, before it was too late, by scholars like Percy, Ritson, Ellis, and others was a pious labor. But if we inquire what positive additions had been made to the modern literature of England, the reply is disappointing.

It was left for the nineteenth century to perform the work of which the eighteenth only prophesied. Regularly selected from each Play. With a general index. Digesting them under proper heads. Dodd, See also, ss. Dies Wort hat manches Genie unter einen Schutt von Worten vergraben. Taylor said in that no German poem had been so often translated: "eight different versions are lying on my table and I have read others.

Cameron, with illustrations by Maclise; and I find a notice in Allibone of "The Ballad of Lenore: a Variorum Monograph," 4to, containing thirty metrical versions in English, announced as about to be published at Philadelphia in by Charles Lukens. Quaere whether this be the same as Henry Clay Lukens "Erratic Enrico" , who published "Lean 'Nora" Philadelphia, ; New York, , a title suggestive of a humorous intention, but a book which I have not seen.

Several of these were very successful on the stage. There seems to be some doubt as to the existence of the alleged Kelso editions of these in and , respectively. See article on Lewis in the "Dict. From German and French. Bestimmung des Gegenstandes der Untersuchung. Dass sie allein gleichsam den letzten Zweck aller Politik betrifft, ist schon oben bemerkt worden. Allein sie erlaubt auch eine leichtere und mehr ausgebreitete Anwendung. Die besten menschlichen Operationen sind diejenigen, welche die Operationen der Natur am getreuesten nachahmen. Indess ist es der Klarheit der Ideen dennoch angemessener, beide noch von einander zu trennen.

Denn auch durch alle Perioden des Lebens erreicht jeder Mensch dennoch nur Eine der Vollkommenheiten, welche gleichsam den Charakter des ganzen Menschengeschlechts bilden. Durch Verbindungen also, die aus dem Innern der Wesen entspringen, muss einer den Reichthum des andern sich eigen machen. Eine solche charakterbildende Verbindung ist, nach der Erfahrung aller auch sogar der rohesten Nationen, z. Aus der Verbindung der Materie geht die Form hervor. Denn desto inniger der Zusammenhang.

Ist es nicht eben das, was uns an das Zeitalter Griechenlands und Roms, und jedes Zeitalter allgemein an ein entfernteres, hingeschwundenes so namenlos fesselt? Es ist im ganzen Menschengeschlecht, wie im einzelnen Menschen [ : 15] gegangen. Allein dies ist bei weitem der Fall nicht. Ueberall ist doch die Sinnlichkeit der erste Keim, wie der lebendigste Ausdruck alles Geistigen.

Von diesem Grundsatz darf, meines Erachtens, die Vernunft nie mehr nachgeben, als zu seiner eignen Erhaltung selbst nothwendig ist. Er musste daher auch jeder Politik, und besonders der Beantwortung der Frage, von der hier die Rede ist, immer zum Grunde liegen. Umfang dieses Abschnitts. Auch die Verschiedenheit der vom Staat angewendeten Mittel giebt seiner Wirksamkeit eine verschiedene Ausdehnung. Es ist [ : 18] daher sehr schwierig, hier eine, dem Gange der Untersuchung angemessene Eintheilung des Ganzen zu finden.

Es sind nicht mehr eigentlich die Mitglieder einer Nation, die mit sich in Gemeinschaft leben, sondern einzelne Unterthanen, welche mit dem Staat, d. Auch ist dies gerade die Absicht der Staaten. Sie wollen Wohlstand und Ruhe. Alles im Menschen ist Organisation. Vielleicht scheint dies zu allgemeine Raisonnement keine Anwendung auf die Wirklichkeit zu verstatten.

Ehe es Aerzte gab, kannte man nur Gesundheit oder Tod. Allein den Irrthum, welcher diesem ganzen Raisonnement zum Grunde liegt, zeigen Vernunft und Erfahrung leicht. Denn alles, was in sich selbst reizend ist, erweckt Achtung und Liebe, was nur als Mittel Nutzen verspricht, bloss Interesse; und nun wird der Mensch durch Achtung und Liebe eben so sehr geadelt, als er durch Interesse in Gefahr ist, entehrt zu werden. Wenn es keine unrichtige Vorstellung ist, dass jede Gattung der Trefflichkeit sich — wenn ich so sagen darf — in einer Art der Wesen darstellt; so bewahrt der weibliche Charakter den ganzen Schatz der Sittlichkeit.

Von diesen haben indess doch die meisten nur mit Zeichen und Formeln [ : 34] der Dinge zu thun. Dasselbe Uebel, aus welchem dieser Nachtheil entspringt, wird wieder von demselben wechselsweis hervorgebracht. Daher nimmt in den meisten Staaten von Jahrzehend zu Jahrzehend das Personale der Staatsdiener, und der Umfang der Registraturen zu, und die Freiheit der Unterthanen ab. Denn auf den Moment der Spannung vermag nur eine gleiche Spannung zu folgen, und die Richtung zum Genuss oder zum Entbehren liegt in der Hand des unbesiegten Schicksals.

Welcher Gedanke selbst wagt es nun, die Schnelligkeit dieser Fortschritte zu begleiten? Wenn z. Der Zweck, den er erreichen will, ist also schon gewissermaassen in der Gegenwart vorbereitet, und wirkt folglich darum heilsam. Eben dies, und das ganze vorige Raisonnement aber ging allein aus Gesichtspunkten aus, welche blos die Kraft des Menschen, als solchen, und seine innere Bildung zum Gegenstand hatten.

Jede Erreichung eines grossen Endzwecks erfordert Einheit der Anordnung. Das ist gewiss. Jene hat nur eine mittelbare, diese eine unmittelbare Gewalt. Allein hier zeigt eben die Erfahrung die verderblichen Folgen, wenn die Absicht Sicherheit zu erhalten, und andre Endzwecke zu erreichen mit einander verbunden wird.

In einer grossen Vereinigung wird er zu leicht Werkzeug. Auch sind diese Vereinigungen Schuld, dass oft das Zeichen an die Stelle der Sache tritt, welches der Bildung allemal hinderlich ist. Die todte Hieroglyphe begeistert nicht, wie die lebendige Natur. Ich erinnere hier nur statt alles Beispiels an Armenanstalten. Und sollte sie nicht seegenvoller gewesen sein? Diese Sorgfalt ist nothwendig, — macht den eigentlichen Endzweck des Staats aus. Es ist daher keine letzte, widerspruchlose Macht nothwendig, welche doch im eigentlichsten Verstande den Begriff des Staats ausmacht.

Die [ : 45] Beleidigung fordert Rache, und die Rache ist eine neue Beleidigung. Nun lebt zwar der Stamm, auf dem sie hervorspriessen kann, in der Vergangenheit. Den Elementen sucht man mehr zu entrinnen, ihre Gewalt mehr auszudauern, als sie zu besiegen:. Ich frage einen jeden, was solch ein Beispiel auf eine Nation wirkt?

Schon dies spricht gegen die stehenden Armeen. Allein unsere stehende Armeen bringen, wenn ich so sagen darf, den Krieg mitten in den Schooss des Friedens. Sie sind ein Theil des Ganzen, welches nicht Plane eitler menschlicher Vernunft, sondern die sichere Hand des Schicksals gebildet hat. Er gebe Freiheit und dieselbe Freiheit geniesse ein benachbarter Staat. Soll ich jetzt auch aus diesem Raisonnement einen zu meinem Endziel dienenden Grundsatz ziehen;. Schon eine sehr mangelhafte Erfahrung lehrt, dass diese Sorgfalt mehr oder minder weit ausgreifen kann, ihren Endzweck zu erreichen.

In unsern, meistentheils monarchischen Staaten ist das alles ganz anders. Wo also nicht alles zusammenstimmt, da vermag diese Erziehung allein nicht durchzudringen. Jede Verfassung wirkte so sehr auf den Nationalcharakter, dieser, bestimmt gebildet, artete aus, und brachte eine neue hervor. Um die in einem Staat nothwendige Sicherheit zu erhalten, ist Umformung der Sitten selbst nicht nothwendig. Oeffentliche Erziehung scheint mir daher ganz ausserhalb der Schranken zu liegen, in welchen der Staat seine Wirksamkeit halten muss. Historischer Blick auf die Art, wie die Staaten sich der Religion bedient haben.

Ausser der eigentlichen Erziehung der Jugend gibt es noch ein anderes Mittel auf den Charakter und die Sitten der Nation zu wirken, durch welches der Staat gleichsam den erwachsenen, reif gewordenen Menschen erzieht, sein ganzes Leben hindurch seine Handlungsweise und Denkungsart begleitet, und derselben diese oder jene Richtung zu ertheilen, oder sie wenigstens vor diesem oder jenem Abwege zu bewahren versucht — die Religion.

Alle Staaten, soviel uns die Geschichte aufzeigt, haben sich dieses Mittels, obgleich in sehr verschiedener [ : 62] Absicht, und in verschiedenem Maasse bedient. Nur verschieden ist die Vorstellung der Gottheit nach der Verschiedenheit der Vorstellung von Vollkommenheit, die in jedem Zeitalter und unter jeder Nation herrscht.

Vielmehr beruht die Wirksamkeit der Religion schlechterdings auf der individuellen Beschaffenheit der Menschen, und ist im strengsten Verstande subjektiv. Allein auch hier sind die Nuancen unendlich verschieden.

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  • Selbst dass sie sich der Religion, als eines Bildungsmittels bedienen, ist ein Beweis davon. Der Nutzen freier Untersuchung dehnt sich auf unsre ganze Art, nicht blos zu denken, sondern zu handeln aus. Zweifel, die seine Vernunft erregt, peinigen ihn. Denn sie sind nicht, wie in dem selbstdenkenden Kopfe, neue Mittel zur Wahrheit zu gelangen; sie nehmen ihm blos die Gewissheit, ohne ihm ein Mittel anzuzeigen, dieselbe auf eine andre Weise wieder zu erhalten.

    Wie Religion in einem Menschen von selbst entstehe? Die sinnlichen Empfindungen, Neigungen und Leidenschaften sind es, welche sich zuerst und in den heftigsten Aeusserungen im Menschen zeigen. Wo sie, ehe noch Kultur sie verfeinert, oder der Energie der Seele eine andre Richtung gegeben hat, schweigen; da ist auch alle Kraft erstorben, und es kann nie etwas Gutes und Grosses gedeihen. Indess ist ihr Einfluss in der Intension, wie in der Art des Wirkens verschieden. Das Auge, wenn ich so sagen darf, liefert dem Verstande einen mehr vorbereiteten Stoff.

    Es fragt sich indess, ob dies der richtige Maassstab sei? Meiner Idee nach, ist Energie die erste und einzige Tugend des Menschen. Dies alles aber ist der Fall der Musik. Ferner ist der Musik blos diese Zeitfolge eigen; nur diese ist in ihr bestimmt. Es ist gleichsam ein Thema, dem man unendlich viele Texte unterlegen kann. Die eben geschilderte Art zu wirken, ist nun nicht der [ : 88] Musik allein eigen. Selbst bei dem Geschmack ist sie unverkennbar. So macht die Malerei, selbst die Plastik es sich eigen. Indem sie den Gegenstand weniger lebhaft darstellt, als die Malerei und die Plastik, spricht sie die Empfindung weniger eindringend an, als der Gesang und die Musik.

    Doch genug hievon. Die gleiche Entschuldigung muss ich, auch bei dem nun Folgenden, nicht zu vergessen bitten. Das ewige Studium dieser Physiognomik der Natur bildet den eigentlichen Menschen. Nur der blos analytische Philosoph kann vielleicht durch die einfachen Operationen der, nicht blos ruhigen, sondern auch kalten Vernunft seinen Endzweck erreichen. Ihr dadurch Freiheit und Achtung zu erwerben, war meine Absicht. Vergessen darf ich indess nicht, dass gerade die Sinnlichkeit auch die Quelle einer grossen Menge physischer und moralischer Uebel ist.

    Blos gewisse Handlungen, Gesinnungen hervorzubringen, giebt es freilich sehr viele Wege. Und wie gross auch das Uebel des Sittenverderbnisses sein mag, es ermangelt selbst der heilsamen Folgen nicht. Dies zeigt sogar die Geschichte der Wilden. Freiheit veranlasst vielleicht manche Vergehung, giebt aber selbst dem Laster eine minder unedle Gestalt. Alle Staatseinrichtungen, indem sie ein mannigfaltiges und sehr verschiedenes Interesse in eine Einheit bringen sollen, verursachen vielerlei Kollisionen. Beide fliessen unmittelbar aus dem oben entwickelten Raisonnement.

    Nur wenn man dem Ausdrucke der Sicherheit diese Bedeutung unterlegt, kann jenes Anwendung finden. Ueber den Ausdruck Polizeigesetze. Von diesem Fall handeln die meisten der sogenannten Polizeigesetze. Und zwar muss in Absicht der Rechte des Staats hier dasjenige angewandt werden, was von dem Sinne dieses Ausdrucks so eben allgemein erinnert worden ist. In dem ersteren Fall geriethe die Freiheit, in dem letzteren die Sicherheit in Gefahr zu leiden.

    Es ist daher freilich soviel ersichtlich, dass ein [ : ] Mittelweg getroffen werden muss. Die Theorie kann daher nicht mehr, als jene Momente der Ueberlegung, angeben. Ueberall, wo sonst Schaden entsteht, ist es Zufall, den der Handelnde zu ersetzen nicht verbunden ist. Eine weitere Ausdehnung liesse sich nur aus einem stillschweigenden Vertrage der Zusammenlebenden, und also schon wiederum aus etwas Positivem herleiten. Sprengt sie doch nicht in der physischen Natur jeden Fels, der dem [ : ] Wanderer in dem Wege steht! Solch ein gemeinschaftliches Eigenthum sind z.

    Beraubung der Freiheit, die z. Die Versicherung der Person der Schuldner z. So bei der Ehe. Endlich kann es auch nicht eine Wohlthat aufdringen heissen, wenn man die Befugniss aufhebt, ihr im Voraus zu entsagen. Endlich dient die Freiheit letztwilliger Verordnungen sehr oft und meistentheils gerade den unedleren Leidenschaften des Menschen, dem Stolze, der Herrschsucht, der Eitelkeit u. Schon mehr als einmal ist der genaue Zusammenhang der Gesetze der Intestatsuccession mit den politischen Verfassungen der Staaten bemerkt worden, und leicht liesse sich dieses Mittel auch zu andern Zwecken gebrauchen.

    Der Isolirte vermag sich eben so wenig zu bilden, als der Gefesselte. Als solche Bestimmungen liessen sich z. Die Antwort muss sich aus dem festgestellten Grundsatz ergeben. Diejenigen Handlungen, welche mit freier Bewilligung des andern geschehen, muss er in eben denjenigen, aber [ : ] keinen engern Schranken halten, als welche den Handlungen einzelner Menschen im Vorigen vorgeschrieben sind.

    So habe ich auch z. Der Staat tritt hier blos an die Stelle der Partheien. Allein auch hier treten noch neue Schranken ein.

    18th Century German Aesthetics (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy/Summer Edition)

    Die Entscheidung des streitigen Rechts durch den Richter kann nur durch bestimmte, gesetzlich angeordnete Kennzeichen der Wahrheit geschehen. Handlungen, welche der Staat bestrafen muss. Grad der Nichtachtung des fremden Rechts. Besserung derselben. Die erste Frage nun, welche hiebei entsteht, ist die: welche Handlungen der Staat mit Strafen belegen, gleichsam als Verbrechen aufstellen kann? Die Antwort ist nach dem Vorigen leicht. Diese aber verdienen auch insgesammt angemessene Bestrafung.

    Von dem Gegenstande der Bestrafung wende ich mich zu der Strafe selbst. Was daher in einem gegebenen Falle mit Recht Grausamkeit heisst, das kann in einem andren die Nothwendigkeit selbst erheischen. Auf jeden Fall reduzirt sich daher diese Strafe allein darauf, dass der Staat dem Verbrecher die Merkmale seiner Achtung und seines Vertrauens entziehn, und andern gestatten [ : ] kann dies gleichfalls ungestraft zu thun.

    Nicht minder gross ist die Schwierigkeit bei der Frage: wie lange die Strafe dauern solle? Unstreitig wird jeder [ : ] Billigdenkende sie nur auf eine gewisse Zeit hin erstrecken wollen. Wenn das absolute Maas der Strafen keine allgemeine Bestimmung erlaubt; so ist dieselbe hingegen um so nothwendiger bei dem relativen.

    Allein wird dieser Grundsatz richtig verstanden; so ist er mit dem eben aufgestellten einerlei. Er ist ungerecht. Darauf beruht nicht blos diese Verbindlichkeit ausser der Staatsverbindung, sondern auch in derselben. Die Gleichheit zwischen Verbrechen und Strafe, welche die eben entwickelten Ideen fordern, kann wiederum nicht absolut bestimmt, es kann nicht allgemein gesagt werden, dieses oder jenes Verbrechen verdient nur eine solche oder solche Strafe.

    Wenn daher, nach dem Vorigen, die Bestimmung des [ : ] absoluten Maases der Strafen, z. Wenn auf diese Weise Verbrechen und Strafe allgemein von dem Gesetze bestimmt sind, so muss nun dies gegebene Strafgesetz auf einzelne Verbrechen angewendet werden. England, hierin einer edlen Gesetzgebung erfreuen. Da ich im Vorigen S. Auf der andern aber vermehrt sich auch der Nachtheil in eben dem Grade, in welchem die moralische Natur jede Fessel schwerer empfindet, als die physische.

    Nur, scheint es mir, ist eine gesetzliche Vorschrift hiezu nicht blos ein undienliches, sondern sogar entgegenarbeitendes Mittel. Daher haben auch die denkendsten neueren Gesetzgeber versucht, die Strafen zugleich zu Besserungsmitteln zu machen. Absolutio ab instantia. Desto emsiger aber muss derselbe darauf bedacht sein, kein begangenes Verbrechen unentdeckt, kein entdecktes unbestraft, ja nur gelinder bestraft zu lassen, als das Gesetz es verlangt.

    Noch ungerechter aber wird eine solche Verheimlichung bei dem Verfahren [ : ] zur Aufsuchung der Verbrechen. Wenn zwischen diesem, und dem, bei Gelegenheit der Handlungen des einzelnen Menschen S. Allgemeine Anmerkung zu diesem und den vier vorhergehenden Abschnitten. Daher niemals z. Jedoch muss diese Aufsicht niemals positiv den Eltern eine bestimmte Bildung und Erziehung der Kinder vorschreiben wollen, sondern nur immer negativ dahin gerichtet sein, Eltern und Kinder gegenseitig in den, ihnen vom Gesetz bestimmten Schranken zu erhalten.

    Zuerst von jenen, dann von diesen. Nothwendigkeit dieser Trennung. Da ich jetzt vollendet habe, was mir, bei der Uebersicht meines ganzen Plans im Vorigen S. Schon meine Unwissenheit in allem, was Finanzen heisst, verbietet mir hier ein langes Raisonnement. Schon oben S. Die Erfahrung lehrt, wie vielfache Einrichtungen ihre Anordnung und ihre Hebung voraussetzt, welche das vorige Raisonnement unstreitig nicht billigen kann.

    Dann trifft auch hier ein, dass der Staat, der weniger wirken soll, auch eine geringere Macht, und die geringere Macht eine geringere Wehr braucht. Ich bin zufrieden, wenn ich bewiesen habe, dass dieser Grundsatz wenigstens bei allen Staatseinrichtungen dem Gesetzgeber, als Ideal, vorschreiben sollte. Anwendung der vorgetragenen Theorie auf die Wirklichkeit. Bei jeglicher Umformung der Gegenwart muss auf den bisherigen Zustand ein neuer folgen.

    Nun aber bringt jede Lage, in welcher sich die Menschen befinden, jeder Gegenstand, der sie umgiebt, eine bestimmte, feste Form in ihrem Innern hervor. Dieser Grad der Kultur ist die wahre Reife der Freiheit. Allein diese Reife findet sich nirgends in ihrer Vollendung, und wird in dieser — meiner Ueberzeugung nach — auch dem sinnlichen, so gern aus sich herausgehenden Menschen ewig fremd bleiben. Dies Letztere ist unstreitig das Wichtigste, und zugleich in diesem System das Einfachste.

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    Dieser Grundsatz ist ganz und gar aus der Anwendung des oben, in Absicht aller Reformen, aufgestellten S. So ist es also das Princip der Nothwendigkeit, zu welchem alle, in diesem ganzen Aufsatz vorgetragene Ideen, wie zu ihrem letzten Ziele, hinstreben. Unter das Joch der Nothwendigkeit hingegen beugt jeder willig den Nacken. Wo nun schon einmal eine verwickelte Lage [ : ] vorhanden ist, da ist die Einsicht selbst des Nothwendigen schwierieger; aber gerade mit der Befolgung dieses Princips wird die Lage immer einfacher und diese Einsicht immer leichter.

    Ich bin jetzt das Feld durchlaufen, das ich mir, bei dem Anfange dieses Aufsatzes, absteckte. Humboldt I.


    Juni Werke I. Mai , Auleben September , 7. Wieder abgedruckt in den Werken. Erinnerungen II, u. Von grosser Erheblichkeit sind sie nirgends. Es sind durchweg lediglich stylistische Abweichungen. Immerhin bliebe es interessant zu wissen, woher die Abweichungen der Abschrift stammen, aus der der Berliner Druck hervorgegangen ist. Februar Jam corporis cruciatus, omnium rerum inopia, fames, infamia, quaeque alia evenire iusto fratres dixerunt, animi illam e iustitia manantem voluptatem dubio procul longe superant, essetque adeo iniustitia iustitiae antehabenda et in virtutum numero collocanda.

    Tiedemann in argumentis dialogorum Platonis. Riga ], und in der Kritik der praktischen Vernunft. Neues deutsches Museum, Junius, 22, 3. Mirabeau s. Sallustius in Catilina. Hesiodus in Theogonia. Basel Of rude nations prior to the establishment of property. Prometheus II. Berlin Berlin p. Dalberg vom Bilden und Erfinden. Aber ich sprach auch hier nicht von dem Fall, wenn z. Collection complette des travaux de Mr. Written in , in his early manhood, and at a time when the ideas which it unfolds were in striking contrast to the events and opinions of the day, the book was long obnoxious to the scruples of the German Censorship; and his friend Schiller, who took much interest in its publication, had some difficulty in finding a publisher willing to incur the necessary responsibility.

    But we cannot but feel grateful to his distinguished brother, for giving publicity to a treatise which has such strong claims to attention, whether we regard the eminence of its Author as a philosopher and a statesman, the intrinsic value of its contents, or their peculiar interest at a time when the Sphere of Government seems more than ever to require careful definition.

    To Englishmen, [v] least of all, is it likely to prove unattractive or uninstructive, since it endeavours to show the theoretical ideal of a policy to which their institutions have made a gradual and instinctive approximation; and contributes important ideas towards the solution of questions which now lie so near to the heart and conscience of the English public. With respect to the translation, I have aimed at scrupulous fidelity; believing that, even where there may be some obscurity as in one or two of the earlier chapters , the intelligent reader would prefer the ipsissima verba of so great a man, to any arbitrary construction put upon them by his translator.

    Eugen Oswald: those who are best acquainted with the peculiarities of thought and style which characterize the writer, will be best able to appreciate the importance of such assistance. To discover the legitimate objects to which the energies of State organizations should be directed, and define the limits within which those energies should be exercised, is the design of the following pages.

    That the solution of this prime question of political philosophy must be pregnant with interest and high practical importance is sufficiently evident; and if we compare the most remarkable political constitutions with each other, and with the opinions of the most eminent philosophers, we shall, with reason, be surprised to find it so insufficiently discussed and vaguely answered; and agree, that any attempt to prosecute the inquiry with more success, is far from being a vain and superfluous labour.

    Those who have either themselves remodelled the framework of State constitutions, or proposed schemes of political reform, seem mostly to have studied how to apportion the respective provinces which the nation, and any of its separate elements, should justly share in the administration,—to assign the due functions of each in the governmental plan,—and to adopt the precautions necessary for preserving the integrity of the several interests at stake.

    But in every [2] attempt to frame or reorganize a political constitution, there are two grand objects, it seems to me, to be distinctly kept in view, neither of which can be overlooked or made subordinate without serious injury to the common design; these are—first, to determine, as regards the nation in question, who shall govern, who shall be governed, and to arrange the actual working of the constituted power; and secondly, to prescribe the exact sphere to which the government, once constructed, should extend or confine its operations. The latter object, which more immediately embraces the private life of the citizen, and more especially determines the limits of his free, spontaneous activity, is, strictly speaking, the true ultimate purpose; the former is only a necessary means for arriving at this important end.

    And yet, however strange it may appear, it is to the attainment of the first of these ends that man directs his most earnest attention; and, as it becomes us to show, this exclusive pursuit of one definite purpose only coincides with the usual manifestation of human activity. It is in the prosecution of some single object, and in striving to reach its accomplishment by the combined application of his moral and physical energies, that the true happiness of man, in his full vigour and development, consists.

    Possession, it is true, crowns exertion with repose; but it is only in the illusions of fancy that it has power to charm our eyes. If we consider the position of man in the universe,—if we remember the constant tendency of his energies towards some definite activity, and recognize the influence of surrounding nature, which is ever provoking him to exertion, we shall be ready to acknowledge that repose and possession do not indeed exist but in imagination. Now the partial or one-sided man finds repose in the discontinuance of one line of action; and in him whose powers are wholly undeveloped, one single object only serves to elicit a few manifestations of energy.

    It would appear then, from these general characteristics of human nature, that to the conqueror his triumph affords a more exquisite sense of enjoyment than the actual occupation of the territory he has won, and that the perilous commotion of reformation itself is dearer to the reformer than the calm enjoyment of the fruits which crown its successful issue. And thus it is true, in general, that the exercise of dominion has something in it more immediately agreeable to human nature than the mere reposeful sense of freedom; or, at least, that the solicitude to secure freedom is a dearer satisfaction than that which is afforded by its actual possession.

    Freedom is but the possibility of a various and indefinite activity; while government, or the exercise of dominion, is a single, but yet real activity. The ardent desire for freedom, therefore, is at first only too frequently suggested by the deep-felt consciousness of its absence. But whatever the natural course of political development may be, and whatever the relation between the desire for freedom and the excessive tendency to governmental activity, it is still evident that the inquiry into the proper aims and limits of State agency must be of the highest importance—nay, that it is perhaps more vitally momentous than any other political question.

    That such an investigation comprises the ultimate object of all political science, has been already pointed out; but it is a truth that admits also of extensive practical application. Real State revolutions, [4] or fresh organizations of the governing power, are always attended in their progress with many concurrent and fortuitous circumstances, and necessarily entail more or less injury to different interests; whereas a sovereign power that is actually existing—whether it be democratic, aristocratic, or monarchical—can extend or restrict its sphere of action in silence and secresy, and, in general, attains its ends more surely, in proportion as it avoids startling innovations.

    Those processes of human agency advance most happily to their consummation, which most faithfully resemble the operations of the natural world. The tiny seed, for example, which drops into the awaiting soil, unseen and unheeded, brings forth a far richer and more genial blessing in its growth and germination than the violent eruption of a volcano, which, however necessary, is always attended with destruction; and, if we justly pride ourselves on our superior culture and enlightenment, there is no other system of reform so happily adapted, by its spirit of calm and consistent progression, to the capacities and requirements of our own times.

    It may easily be foreseen, therefore, that the important inquiry into the due limits of State agency must conduct us to an ampler range of freedom for human forces, and a richer diversity of circumstances and situations. Now the possibility of any higher degree of freedom presupposes a proportionate advancement in civilization,—a decreasing necessity of acting in large, compacted masses,—a richer variety of resources in the individual agents. If, then, the present age in reality possesses this increased culture and this power and diversity of resources, the freedom of which these are the precious conditions should unquestionably be accorded it.

    And so its methods of reform would be happily correspondent with a progressive civilization—if we do not err in supposing this to be its favourable characteristic. Generally [5] speaking, it is the drawn sword of the nation which checks and overawes the physical strength of its rulers; but in our case, culture and enlightenment serve no less effectually to sway their thoughts and subdue their will, so that the actual concessions of reform seem rather ascribable to them than to the nation. If even to behold a people breaking their fetters asunder, in the full consciousness of their rights as men and citizens, is a beautiful and ennobling spectacle: it must be still more fair, and full of uplifting hope, to witness a prince himself unloosing the bonds of thraldom and granting freedom to his people,—nor this as the mere bounty of his gracious condescension, but as the discharge of his first and most indispensable duty; for it is nobler to see an object effected through a reverent regard for law and order, than conceded to the imperious demands of absolute necessity; and the more so, when we consider that the freedom which a nation strives to attain through the overthrow of existing institutions, is but as hope to enjoyment, as preparation to perfection, when compared with that which a State, once constituted, can bestow.

    If we cast a glance at the history of political organizations, we shall find it difficult to decide, in the case of any one of them, the exact limits to which its activity was conformed, because we discover in none the systematic working out of any deliberate scheme, grounded on a certain basis of principle. We shall observe, that the freedom of the citizen has been limited from two points of view; that is, either from the necessity of organizing or securing the constitution, or from the expediency of providing for the moral and physical condition of the nation.

    These considerations have prevailed alternately, according as the constitution, in itself powerful, has required additional support, or as the views of the legislators have been more or less expanded. Often indeed both of these causes may be found operating conjointly. Possessed, as it was, of but little absolute authority, the constitution was mainly dependent for its duration on the will of the nation, and hence it was necessary to discover or propose means by which due harmony might be preserved between the character of established institutions and this tendency of national feeling.

    The same policy is still observable in small republican States; and if we were to regard it in the light of these circumstances alone, we might accept it as true, that the freedom of private life always increases in exact proportion as public freedom declines; whereas security always keeps pace with the latter. Now if we compare the example of the most modern States, with regard to this tendency, we shall find the design of acting for the individual citizen, and of providing for his welfare, to be clear and unmistakable from the number of laws and institutions directed to this end, and which often give a very determinate form to private life.

    The superior internal consistency of our constitutions,—their greater independence of national character and feeling,—the deeper influence of mere thinkers, who are naturally disposed to more expanded views,—the multitude of inventions which teach us to follow out and improve the common objects of national activity; and lastly, and before all, certain ideas of religion which represent the governing power as responsible, to a certain extent, for the moral and future welfare of the [7] citizens, have all contributed to introduce this change and develope this positive solicitude.

    But if we examine into the origin of particular institutions and police-laws, we find that they frequently originate in the real or pretended necessity of imposing taxes on the subject, and in this we may trace the example, it is true, to the political characteristics of the ancient States, inasmuch as such institutions grow out of the same desire of securing the constitution which we noticed in them.

    With respect to those limitations of freedom, however, which do not so much affect the State as the individuals who compose it, we are led to notice a vast difference between ancient and modern governments. The ancients devoted their attention more exclusively to the harmonious development of the individual man, as man; the moderns are chiefly solicitous about his comfort, his prosperity, his productiveness. The former looked to virtue; the latter seek for happiness. And hence it follows, that the restrictions imposed on freedom in the ancient States were, in some important respects, more oppressive and dangerous than those which characterize our times.

    For they directly attacked that inner life of the soul, in which the individuality of human being essentially consists; and hence all the ancient nations betray a character of uniformity, which is not so much to be attributed to their want of higher refinement and more limited intercommunication, as to the systematic education of their youth in common almost universal among them , and the designedly collective life of the citizens. But, in another point of view, it will be allowed that these ancient institutions contributed especially to preserve and elevate the vigorous activity of the individual man.

    The very desire which still animated all their political efforts, to train up temperate and nobleminded citizens, imparted a higher impulse to their whole spirit and character. With us, it is true, man is individually less restricted; but the influence of surrounding circumstances [8] only the more operates to produce and continue a limiting agency,—a position, however, which does not preclude the possibility of beginning a conflict against these external hindrances, with our own internal antagonistic strength.

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    And yet the peculiar nature of the limitations imposed on freedom in our States; the fact that they regard rather what man possesses than what he really is, and that with respect to the latter they do not cultivate, even to uniformity, the physical, intellectual, and moral faculties; and lastly and especially, the prevalence of certain determining ideas, more binding than laws, suppress those energies which are the source of every active virtue, and the indispensable condition of any higher and more various culture.

    With the ancients, moreover, the increase of force served to compensate for their uniformity; but with the moderns uniformity is aggravated by the evil of diminished energy. This difference between the States of antiquity and those of our own times, is in general thoroughly evident. Whilst in these later centuries, the rapid strides of progress, the number and dissemination of artistic inventions, and the enduring grandeur of establishments, especially attract our attention; antiquity captivates us above all by that inherent greatness which is comprised in the life of the individual, and perishes along with him,—the bloom of fancy, the depth of thought, the strength of will, the perfect oneness of the entire being, which alone confer true worth on human nature.

    Their strong consciousness of this essential worth of human nature, of its powers and their consistent development, was to them the quick impulse to every manifestation of activity; but these seem to us but as abstractions, in which the sense of the individual is lost, or at least in which his inner life is not so much regarded as his ease, his material comfort, his happiness.

    It has been from time to time disputed by publicists, [10] whether the State should provide for the security only, or for the whole physical and moral well-being of the nation. The vigilant solicitude for the freedom of private life has in general led to the former proposition; while the idea that the State can bestow something more than mere security, and that the injurious limitation of liberty, although a possible, is not an essential, consequence of such a policy, has disposed many to the latter opinion.

    And this belief has undoubtedly prevailed, not only in political theory, but in actual practice. Ample evidence of this is to be found in most of the systems of political jurisprudence, in the more recent philosophical codes, and in the history of Constitutions generally. The introduction of these principles has given a new form to the study of politics as is shown for instance by so many recent financial and legislative theories , and has produced many new departments of administration, as boards of trade, finance, and national economy. But, however generally these principles may be accepted, they still appear to me to require a more radical investigation; and this can only proceed from a view of human nature in the abstract, and of the highest ends of human existence.

    The true end of Man, or that which is prescribed by the eternal and immutable dictates of reason, and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is the highest and most harmonious development of his powers to a complete and consistent whole. Freedom is the grand and indispensable condition which the possibility of such a development presupposes; but there is besides another essential,—intimately connected with freedom, it is true,—a variety of situations.

    Even the most free and self-reliant of men is thwarted and hindered in his development by uniformity of position. But as it is evident, on the one hand, that such a diversity is a constant result of freedom, and on the other, that there is a species of oppression which, without imposing restrictions on man himself, gives a peculiar impress of its own to surrounding circumstances; these two conditions, of freedom and variety of situation, may be regarded, in a certain sense, as one and the same.

    Still, it may contribute to perspicuity to point out the distinction between them. Every human being, then, can act with but one force at the same time: or rather, our whole nature disposes us at any given time to some single form of spontaneous activity. It would therefore seem to follow from this, that man is inevitably destined to a partial cultivation, since he only enfeebles his energies by directing them to a multiplicity of objects.

    But we see the fallacy of such a conclusion when we reflect, that man has it in his power to avoid this one-sideness, [12] by striving to unite the separate faculties of his nature, often singly exercised; by bringing into spontaneous co-operation, at each period of his life, the gleams of activity about to expire, and those which the future alone will kindle into living effulgence; and endeavouring to increase and diversify the powers with which he works, by harmoniously combining them, instead of looking for a mere variety of objects for their separate exercise.

    That which is effected, in the case of the individual, by the union of the past and future with the present, is produced in society by the mutual co-operation of its different single members; for, in all the stages of his existence, each individual can exhibit but one of those perfections only, which represent the possible features of human character.

    It is through such social union, therefore, as is based on the internal wants and capacities of its members, that each is enabled to participate in the rich collective resources of all the others. The experience of all, even the rudest, nations, furnishes us an example of a union thus formative of individual character, in the union of the sexes. And, although in this case the expression, as well of the difference as of the longing for union, appears more marked and striking, it is still no less active in other kinds of association where there is actually no difference of sex; it is only more difficult to discover in these, and may perhaps be more powerful for that very reason.

    If we were to follow out this idea, it might perhaps conduct us to a clearer insight into the phenomena of those unions so much in vogue among the ancients, and more especially the Greeks, among whom we find them countenanced even by the legislators themselves: I mean those so frequently, but unworthily, classed under the general appellation of ordinary love, and sometimes, but always erroneously, designated as mere friendship. The efficiency of all such unions as instruments of cultivation, [13] wholly depends on the degree in which the component members can succeed in combining their personal independence with the intimacy of the common bond; for whilst, without this intimacy, one individual cannot sufficiently possess himself, as it were, of the nature of the others, independence is no less essential, in order that the perceived be assimilated into the being of the perceiver.

    This individual vigour, then, and manifold diversity, combine themselves in originality; and hence, that on which the consummate grandeur of our nature ultimately depends,—that towards which every human being must ceaselessly direct his efforts, and on which especially those who design to influence their fellow men must ever keep their eyes, is the Individuality of Power and Development. Just as this individuality springs naturally from the perfect freedom of action, and the greatest diversity in the agents, it tends immediately to produce them in turn.

    Even inanimate nature, which, proceeding in accordance with unchangeable laws, advances by regular grades of progression, appears more individual to the man who has been developed in his individuality. He transports himself, as it were, into the very centre of nature; and it is true, in the highest sense, that each still perceives the beauty and rich abundance of the outer world, in the exact measure in which he is conscious of their existence in his own soul.

    How much sweeter and [14] closer must this correspondence become between effect and cause,—this reaction between internal feeling and outward perception,—when man is not only passively open to external sensations and impressions, but is himself also an agent! If we attempt to confirm these principles by a closer application of them to the nature of the individual man, we find that everything which enters into the latter, reduces itself to the two elements of Form and Substance.

    The purest form, beneath the most delicate veil, we call Idea; the crudest substance, with the most imperfect form, we call sensuous Perception. Form springs from the union of substance. The richer and more various the substance that is united, the more sublime is the resulting form. A child of the gods is the offspring only of immortal parents: and as the blossom swells and ripens into fruit, and from the tiny germ imbedded in its soft pulp the new stalk shoots forth, laden with newly-clustering buds; so does the Form become in turn the substance of a still more exquisite Form.

    The intensity of power, moreover, increases in proportion to the greater variety and delicacy of the substance; since the internal cohesion increases with these.