{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33670/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33670","id":"gutenberg_33670","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33670","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: German Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Epigrams, German -- Translations into English"],"text":"THE MAXIMS AND REFLECTIONS\n\nOF\n\nGOETHE\n\n\nTRANSLATED BY BAILEY SAUNDERS\n\nWITH A PREFACE\n\n\nNEW YORK\n\nTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n\n1906\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE\nLIFE AND CHARACTER\nLITERATURE AND ART\nSCIENCE\nNATURE: APHORISMS\nINDEX\n\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe translation of Goethe's \"Prose Maxims\" now offered to the public is\nthe first attempt that has yet been made to present the greater part of\nthese incomparable sayings in English. In the complete collection they\nare over a thousand in number, and not more perhaps than a hundred and\nfifty have already found their way into our language, whether as\ncontributions to magazines here and in America, or in volumes of\nmiscellaneous extract from Goethe's writings. Some are at times quoted\nas though they were common literary property. To say that they are\nimportant as a whole would be a feeble tribute to a work eloquent for\nitself, and beyond the need of praise; but so deep is the wisdom of\nthese maxims, so wide their reach, so compact a product are they of\nGoethe's wonderful genius, that it is something of a reproach to\nliterature to find the most of them left untranslated for the sixty\nyears they have been before the world. From one point of view, the\nneglect they have suffered is in no way surprising: they are too high\nand severe to be popular so soon; and when they meet with a wide\nacceptance as with other great works, much of it will rest upon\nauthority. But even for the deeper side of his writings, Goethe has not\nbeen denied a fair measure of popular success. No other author of the\nlast two centuries holds so high a place, or, as an inevitable\nconsequence, has been attacked by so large an army of editors and\ncommentators; and it might well be supposed by now that no corner of his\nwork, and least of all one of the best, had remained almost unnoticed,\nand to the majority unknown. Many of these maxims were early translated\ninto French, but with little success; and even in Germany it was only so\nlate as the year 1870 that they appeared in a separate form, with the\naddition of some sort of critical comment and a brief explanation of\ntheir origin and history.[1]\n\nBut although to what is called the reading public these maxims are as\nyet, no less in fact than in metaphor, a closed book, its pages have\nlong been a source of profit and delight to some of those who are best\nable to estimate their value. What that value is, I shall presently\nendeavour to explain. No one, I think, can perceive their worth without\nalso discerning how nearly they touch the needs of our own day, and how\ngreatly they may help us in facing certain problems of life and conduct,\nsome of them, in truth, as old as the world itself, which appear to us\nnow with peculiar force and subtlety.\n\nIt was in this respect that they were warmly recommended to me some\nyears ago by my excellent friend, Professor Harnack, the historian of\nDogma, a writer with a fine and prudent enthusiasm for all ennobling\nliterature. It is to him that I owe the resolve to perform for the\nmaxims, as far as I could, the office of translator; a humble office,\nbut not, as I have good reason to know, without its difficulty, or, as I\nventure to hope, without its use. Of many of them the language is hardly\nlucid even to a German, and I have gratefully to acknowledge the\nassistance I have received from the privilege of discussing them with so\ndistinguished a man of letters.\n\nTo Professor Huxley I am also deeply indebted. I owe him much for\nfriendly encouragement, and still more for help of an altogether\ninvaluable kind; for in its measure of knowledge and skill, it is\nadmittedly beyond the power of any other living Englishman. The maxims\ndeal, not alone with Life and Character, where most of them are\nadmirable, but also with certain aspects of Science and Art; and these\nare matters in which I could exercise no judgment myself, although I\nunderstood that, while many of the maxims on Science and Art were\nattractive, they were not all of great merit. Professor Huxley not only\ndid me the honour to select the maxims on Science, but he was further\ngood enough to assist me with them, and to read and approve the\ntranslation as it now stands. The weight and the interest of his\nauthority will thus give additional value to that section of the book,\nand also do much to overcome the objections that exist to making a\nselection at all.\n\nFor a selection is a necessary evil. It is an evil because, even if it\nleaves the best, it takes away something of a man's work; if it shows us\nthe heights he has reached, it obliterates the steps of his ascent; it\nendangers thoughts that may be important but imperfectly understood; and\nit hinders a fair and complete judgment. But in the end it is a\nnecessity: we are concerned chiefly with the best and clearest results,\nand it is only the few who care to follow the elaborate details of\neffort and progress, often painful and obscure. There is no author with\nwhom, for most readers, selection is so necessary as it is with Goethe;\nand in no other kind of literature is it so amply justified or so\nclearly desirable as where the aim is to state broad truths of life and\nconduct and method in a manner admitting of no mistake or uncertainty.\nWhen a writer attempts achievements, as Goethe did, in almost every\nfield of thought, it need be no surprise to any one who has heard of\nhuman fallibility that in solid results he is not equally successful\neverywhere. In deciding what shall be omitted, there is no difficulty\nwith maxims which time has shown to be wrong or defective; they have\nonly an historical interest. But great care is necessary with others\nthat are tentative, questionable, or obscure enough to need the light of\na commentary, sometimes dubious; where for most of us there is never\nmuch profit and always occasion for stumbling. I count it a singular\npiece of good fortune that the choice of the scientific maxims should be\nundertaken by so eminent a judge of their practical value, who is also a\nscholar in the language and a great admirer of Goethe in his other and\nbetter known productions. For if a writer of this immense versatility\ncannot always hope to touch the highest goal, it is well that all his\nefforts should be weighed in a later day by the best and friendliest\nknowledge.\n\nThe maxims on Art were at first a matter of some little difficulty. It\nis plain, I think, that they are below the others in value and interest;\nand in any collection of sayings the less there is of general worth, the\nmore delicate becomes the task of choosing the best. If I omitted them\nall, the selection would not be duly representative, and it seemed\nlikely that some at least were worthy of being preserved, if only to\nillustrate Goethe's theories. I therefore sought the best advice; and\nhere again I have to tender my thanks for assistance second to none in\nskill and authority,--that of Sir Frederick Leighton, kindly given under\ncircumstances which much increase my obligation. For it is my duty to\nsay that Sir Frederick Leighton had no desire, but rather reluctance, to\nmake a selection from maxims on Art which he was often not prepared to\nendorse, or to regard as in any way commensurate with Goethe's genius;\nand nevertheless he did me the honour to point out a few which I might\ninsert, as being of interest partly for their own sake, partly also for\nthe name of their author.\n\nThe maxims on Science and Art are, however, when taken together, hardly\na fifth of this volume. The others I have selected on the simple and I\nhope blameless principle of omitting only what is clearly unimportant,\nantiquated, of past or passing interest, of purely personal reference,\nor of a nature too abstruse to stand without notes of explanation, which\nI should be sorry to place at the foot of any of these pages. I have\nalso omitted eleven maxims drawn from Hippocrates _On Diet_; fifteen\ncontaining an appreciation of Sterne, together with some twenty more\nwhich Goethe himself translated from a curious work wrongly attributed\nto that writer. It will be convenient if I state that I have thus\nomitted some hundred and twenty out of the six hundred and fifty-five\nwhich make up the section styled in the original _Ethisches_, which I\ntranslate by _Life and Character_, the section which also contains the\nmaxims on _Literature_, now collected and placed in a separate section\nwith those on _Art_. Sir Frederick Leighton chose thirty-five out of a\nhundred and eighteen on Art, and Professor Huxley seventy-six out of two\nhundred and eighty on Science.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nHaving thus acknowledged but in no way discharged a triple debt of\ngratitude, it will be next in order if I briefly state the history of\nthe work which now appears in an English dress, before attempting to\nspeak of its nature and value.\n\nThe publication of the maxims belongs to the later, that is to say, the\nlast thirty, years of Goethe's life; and the greater number of them\nappeared only in the last ten, while some are posthumous.\n\nIt is impossible to say with certainty at what period he began the\nobservations which were afterwards to come before the world in this\nshape; nor is the question of any real interest except to pedantic\nstudents of such matters. It is probable that, like most writers, Goethe\nwas in the habit of noting transient thoughts of his own, as well as\nopinions of others that suggested more than they actually conveyed; and\nof preserving for further use what he had thus, in his own words,\nwritten himself and appropriated from elsewhere--_Eigenes and\nAngeeignetes_. The maxims grew out of a collection of this character. It\nwas a habit formed probably in early life, for somewhere in the\n_Lehrjahre_--a work of eighteen years' duration, but begun at the age of\ntwenty-seven--he makes Wilhelm Meister speak of the value of it. But\nthere are reasons for thinking that most of the maxims, as they now\nstand, were not alone published but also composed in his last years. The\nunity of meaning which stamps them with a common aim; the similarity of\nthe calm, dispassionate language in which they are written; the didactic\ntone that colours them throughout, combine to show that they are among\nthe last and ripest fruits of his genius. Some were certainly composed\nbetween the ages of fifty and sixty; more still between that and\nseventy; while there is evidence, both internal and external, proving\nthat many and perhaps most of them were his final reflections on life\nand the world. This it is that adds so much to their interest for as he\nhimself finely says in one of the last of them, \"in a tranquil mind\nthoughts rise up at the close of life hitherto unthinkable; like blessed\ninward voices alighting in glory on the summits of the past.\"\n\nBut whenever all or any of them were written, and whatever revision they\nmay have undergone, none were published until 1809, when Goethe was\nsixty years of age. It was then that he brought out _Die\nWahlverwandschaften_. A few of the maxims on Life and Character were\nthere inserted as forming two extracts from a journal often quoted in\nthe earlier part of the story. \"About this time,\" writes Goethe, as he\nintroduces the first of these extracts, \"outward events are seldomer\nnoted in Ottilie's diary, whilst maxims and sentences on life in\ngeneral, and drawn from it, become more frequent. But,\" he adds, \"as\nmost of them can hardly be due to her own reflections, it is likely that\nsome one had given her a book or paper, from which she wrote out\nanything that pleased her.\" A few more maxims appeared eight years later\nin _Kunst and Alterthum_, a magazine founded by Goethe in 1816 and\ndevoted to the discussion of artistic questions; and a larger number\nfirst saw the light in the same publication at various dates until its\nextinction in 1828. Some of the observations on Science had meanwhile\nbeen incorporated with two treatises on branches of that subject.\n\nEckermann tells a curious story of the way in which Goethe then\ncontinued the publication of the maxims. _Wilhelm Meisters Wanderjahre_\nhad appeared in its first form in 1821. Afterwards, in 1829, Goethe\ndecided to remodel and lengthen it, and to make two volumes out of what\nhad originally been only one. His secretary was employed to copy it out\nin its revised form. He wrote in a large hand, which gave the impression\nthat the story might well fill even three volumes; and directions to\nthis effect were sent to the publisher. But it was soon discovered that\nthe last two volumes would be very thin, and the publisher asked for\nmore manuscript. Goethe, in some perplexity, sent for Eckermann, and\nproducing two large bundles of unpublished papers, containing, as he\nsaid, some very important things,--\"opinions on life, literature,\nscience and art, all mingled together,\" proposed to him to lengthen out\nthe volumes by inserting selections from them. \"You might,\" he\nsuggested, \"fill the gaps in the _Wanderjahre_ by making up some six or\neight sheets from these detached pieces. Strictly speaking, they have\nnothing to do with the story; but we may justify the proceeding by the\nfact that I mention an archive in Makarie's house, in which such\nmiscellanies are preserved. In this way we shall not only get over our\ndifficulty, but find a good vehicle for giving much interesting matter\nto the world.\" Eckermann approved the plan, and divided his selection\ninto two parts; and when the new edition of the _Wanderjahre_ appeared,\none of them was styled _Aus Makariens Archiv_, and the other\n_Betrachtungen im Sinne der Wanderer: Kunst, Ethisches, Natur_. The\nremainder of the unpublished maxims appeared posthumously, either in the\n_Nachgelassene Werke_ in 1833, or in the quarto edition of 1836.\n\nInstructions had been given to Eckermann to collect all the maxims,\narrange them under different heads, and include them in appropriate\nvolumes; but he resolved to deviate from his instructions to the extent\nof publishing them all together; and the alteration is certainly an\nadvantage. A slight re-arrangement was made by von Loeper, who was\ndeterred from undertaking a more radical one, although he thought it\nmight be done with profit, by the consideration that when a literary\nwork of undesigned and fortuitous form has lived any number of years in\na certain shape, that fact alone is a weighty argument against any\nchange in it. In a translation, perhaps, where the work is presented\nanew and to a fresh public, the change might be allowable; and I should\nhave undertaken it, had there not been a more serious reason, which von\nLoeper also urges, against any attempt at systematic re-arrangement: the\nfurther fact, namely, that many of the maxims have a mixed character,\nplacing them above our distinctions of scientific and ethical, and\nmaking it difficult to decide under which heading they ought to fall. I\nhave, therefore, generally followed the traditional order; with this\nexception, that, for obvious reasons, the maxims dealing with Literature\nare here placed together; and as only a few of those on Art appear in\nthese pages, I have included them in the same section. In one or two\ncases I have united closely connected maxims which are separated in the\noriginal; and, for the sake of a short title, I have slightly narrowed\nthe meaning of the word _Spruch_, which applies to any kind of shrewd\nsaying, whether it be strictly a maxim or an aphorism. Some little\nliberties of this kind may, I think, be taken by a translator anxious to\nput the work before his own public in an orderly and convenient form.\n\nThe last section in this book requires a word of explanation. It is a\nlittle essay on _Nature_ which is to be found with a variety of other\nfragments in the last volume of Goethe's collected works. Too short to\nstand by itself, if it appears at all, it must be in company with\nkindred matter; and as a series of aphorisms, presenting a poetic view\nof Nature unsurpassed in its union of beauty and insight, it is no\ninappropriate appendage to the maxims on Science. It is little known,\nand it deserves to be widely known. I venture to think that even in\nGermany the ordinary reader is unaware of its existence. For us in\nEngland it was, so to speak, discovered by Professor Huxley, who many\nyears ago gave a translation of it as a proem to a scientific\nperiodical. Perhaps that proem may yet be recovered as good salvage from\nthe waters of oblivion, which sooner or later overwhelm all magazines.\nMeanwhile I put forward this version.\n\nFor sixty years this essay has stood unquestioned in Goethe's works; but\ndoubt has recently been cast on its authorship. The account hitherto\ngiven rests upon the excellent ground of Goethe's own declaration. The\nessay, it appears, was written about the year 1780, and offered to the\nDuchess Amalia. Some time after her death it was found amongst her\npapers, and sent to Goethe in May, 1828, when, as he wrote to his friend\nthe Chancellor von M\u00fcller, he could not remember having composed it;\nalthough he recognised the writing as that of a person of whose services\nhe used to avail himself some forty years previously. That at so great a\ndistance of time a prolific author could not recall the composition of\nso short a piece is not, indeed, improbable; but Goethe proceeded to say\nthat it agreed very well with the pantheistic ideas which occupied him\nat the age of thirty, and that his insight then might be called a\ncomparative, which was thus forced to express its strife towards an as\nyet unattained superlative. Notwithstanding this declaration, the essay\nis now claimed as the production of a certain Swiss friend of Goethe's,\nby name Tobler, on external evidence which need not be examined here,\nand on the internal evidence afforded by the style, which is certainly\nmore pointed and antithetic than is usual with Goethe. But a master of\nlanguage who attempted every kind of composition may well have attempted\nthis; and even those who credit an otherwise unknown person with the\nactual writing of the essay candidly admit that it is based upon\nconversations with Goethe. It is so clearly inspired with his genius\nthat he can hardly be forced to yield the credit of it to another.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIt is no wish or business of mine to introduce these maxims by adding\none more to the innumerable essays, some of them admirable, which have\nbeen written on Goethe. I have found the translation of one of his works\na harder and certainly a more profitable task than a general discourse\non them all; and I profoundly believe that, rather than read what has\nbeen written on Goethe, it is very much better to read Goethe himself.\nIt is in this belief that I hope the present translation may help in a\nsmall way to increase the direct knowledge of him in this country. But\nthere are some remarks which I may be allowed to make on the nature and\nuse of maxims, and the peculiar value of those of Goethe; so far, at\nleast, as they deal with life and character and with literature. If\nProfessor Huxley could be induced to publish the comments which he made\nto me as I read him the scientific maxims, besides being the best of\nintroductions to that section of the book, they would form a keen and\nclear review of Goethe's scientific achievements, and an emphatic\ntestimony to his wonderful anticipations of later theories.\n\nBetween a maxim, an aphorism, and an apophthegm, and in a more obvious\ndegree, between these and an adage and a proverb, the etymologist and\nthe lexicographer may easily find a distinction. But they are, one and\nall, fragments of the wisdom of life, treasured up in short, pithy\nsentences that state or define some general truth of experience; and\nperhaps with an adage and a maxim, enjoin its practice as a matter of\nconduct. In the literature of every age there have been writers who,\ninstead of following a less severe method, thus briefly record the\nlessons taught them by a wide view of the doings of men; from the dim,\nfar-off beginnings of Ptah Hotep the Egyptian to the authors of the\nProverbs of Solomon and the Book of Wisdom, from Theognis and Plutarch\ndownwards to our own time. They give us the shrewdest of their thoughts,\ndetached from the facts which gave them birth. But the professed writers\nof maxims are not the only or always the best authors of them. There is\nno great writer who is not rich in wise sentences; where we have the\nadvantage of seeing for ourselves the train of thought that induced and\nthe occasion that called them forth. Terse and pregnant sayings are\nscattered innumerably through the pages of the finest poets, the great\norators, philosophers, and historians, wherever they touch the highest\nlevel of truth and insight; be it in the lofty interpretation of life,\nthe defence of action or policy, the analysis of character and conduct,\nor the record of progress; and then it is that large ideas and wide\nobservations take on imperceptibly the nature of maxim or aphorism,\nillumining, like points of light, whole fields of thought and\nexperience. And the test of their value is that they lose little or\nnothing by being deprived of their particular context and presented as\ntruths of general import. A collection of proverbs, shrewd sayings, and\npointed expressions, taken from the whole range of Greek and Latin\nliterature, was made by the industry of Erasmus in his great folio of\n_Adagia_; and perhaps some future student, as diligent as he, may gather\nup the aphoristic wisdom in the writings of modern times. Goethe himself\nhas in all his great works a wealth of aphorism unsurpassed by any other\nwriter whatever, even though it be Montaigne or Bacon or Shakespeare;\nand sayings of his not to be found in this collection are some of the\nbest that he uttered.\n\nThe besetting sin of the maxim-writer is to exaggerate one side of a\nmatter by neglecting another; to secure point and emphasis of style, by\nlimiting the range of thought; and hence it is that most maxims present\nbut a portion of truth and cannot be received unqualified. They must\noften be brought back to the test of life itself, and confronted and\ncompared with other sides of the experience they profess to embody. And\nwhen a maxim stands this trial and proves its worth, it is not every one\nto whom it is of value. To some it may be a positive evil. It makes the\nstrongest appeal to those who never see more than one aspect of\nanything, hardening their hearts and blunting their minds; and even to\nthose who could make a good use of it, there are times when it may\nmislead and be dangerous. Maxims in their application seem to need\nsomething of the physician's art: they must be handled with care, and\napplied with discretion. Like powerful drugs they may act with\nbeneficent effect on a hardy constitution; they may brace it to effort,\nor calm the fever of a misguided activity; but great is the mischief\nthey work where the mind is weak or disorganised. As a medicine may save\na man at one time that would kill him at another, so the wise counsel of\nto-day may easily become the poisonous suggestion of to-morrow.\n\nWith writers who depend for effect on mere qualities of style and ignore\nthe weightier matters of depth and truth of observation, Goethe has\nnothing in common; nor with those who vainly imagine that insight is a\nkind of art, with a method that may be learned and applied. By constant\npractice a man of literary talent may, it is true, attain a fair mastery\nof language terse and attractive, and then set himself, if he will, to\nthe deliberate creation of aphoristic wisdom or a philosophy of\nproverbs; mistaking the dexterous handling of a commonplace for the true\nprocess of discovery. The popular literature of the last generation\nsupplies a terrible instance of the length to which the manufacture of\nmaxims can thus be carried, for a time with immense success; and we have\nseen how a few years suffice to carry them and their author to\nobscurity. How different is the true process! The maxim that increases\nknowledge and enriches literature is of slow and rare appearance; it\nsprings from a fine faculty of observation which is in no one's\narbitrament, and only less rare than the gift of utterance which adds\ncharm to a thought that itself strikes home with the power of\nimpregnable truth. No amount or intensity of effort will alone produce\nit; but to the mind of genius it comes like a sudden revelation,\nflashing its light on a long course of patient attention. \"What we call\n_Discovery_,\" says Goethe, \"is the serious exercise and activity of an\noriginal feeling for truth. It is a synthesis of world and mind, giving\nthe most blessed assurance of the eternal harmony of things.\"\n\nIt is, then, depth and truth and sanity of observation which chiefly\nmark these sayings of Goethe. It is no concern of his to dazzle the mind\nby the brilliance of his wit; nor does he labour to say things because\nthey are striking, but only because they are true. He is always in\ncontact with realities, always aiming at truth; and he takes a kindly\nand a generous view of the world. He has none of the despair that\ndepresses, none of the malice that destroys. There are writers who\nprofess to honour a lofty ideal by a cynical disparagement of everything\nthat falls short of it; who unveil the selfish recesses of the heart as\na mistaken stimulus to its virtues; who pay their tribute to great work\nby belittling human endeavour. Goethe shows us a more excellent way.\nTouched with a profound feeling of the worth of life, the wisdom of\norder, the nobility of effort, he gives us an ideal to pursue and shows\nus the means of pursuing it. Out of the fulness of a large experience,\nunique in the history of literature, he unfolds the scheme of a\npracticable perfection, and enforces the lessons he has learned from the\nsteady, passionless, and undaunted observation of human affairs.\n\nTo Goethe these sayings were merely _reflections_ or _opinions_; it is\nhis literary executors and his editors who called them by more ambitious\ntitles, so as to challenge a comparison with certain other famous books\nof wise thought. They are the reflections of a long life rich in all the\nintellectual treasures of the world, in its versatility amazing, in its\ninsight well-nigh fathomless; a life that, in his own words, approached\nthe infinite by following the finite on every side. Such a man need only\nspeak to utter something important; and we on our part need only\nremember how wide was the range of his knowledge, how full and complete\nhis existence, to set the utmost value on his reflections at the end of\nit. But that he knew nothing of the pinch of poverty and was spared the\nhorrors of disease, that he suffered no great misfortune, and basked in\nthe bright side of the world, free from the ills that come to most men,\nthere was no page of the book of life that was not thrown open to him.\nThe things of the mind, the things of art, the things of nature--in\ntheir theory and in their practice he had worked at them all; regarding\nthem as so many varied manifestations of an eternal Idea in itself\ninscrutable and here unattainable. There was no kind of literature with\nwhich he was unfamiliar, whether it was ancient or modern, of the East\nor of the West; and the great spiritual influences of the world,\nHebraism, Hellenism, Christianity, Medi\u00e6valism,--at one or another time\nin his life he was in touch with them all, and found his account in them\nall. In matters of learning he was occupied with nothing but what was\nactual and concrete; it was only to abstract studies, to logic,\nmetaphysics, mathematics, that he was indifferent; in his own phrase, he\nnever thought about thinking. There was hardly any branch of the natural\nscience of his day that he did not cultivate, that he did not himself\npractise; geology, mineralogy, botany, zoology, anatomy, meteorology,\noptics; and he made some remarkable discoveries and the strangest\nprophecies. To Art he gave a life-long devotion. While still a youth, he\nwrote an important essay on Gothic architecture; he engraved, drew,\npainted, and for a time took up sculpture. In all the higher forms of\nArt, with the single exception of music, he had so much practical\ninterest that he often doubted whether in following Literature he had\nnot mistaken, or at least unduly narrowed, the sphere of his activity.\nHe was little abroad, but no one ever profited more by his travels than\nGoethe. Twice he went to Italy, and what a change of mind was produced\nby that change of sky! Rome was to him a new birth, a new conception of\nlife. And besides Literature, Science, and Art, he busied himself with\nAdministration, with the duties of the Court, with the practical details\nof the Theatre; but out of them all he learned something himself and\ntaught something to others. He lived the fullest life granted to man. He\nhad a youth of the wildest enthusiasm and romance; a prime of a classic\nausterity, of a calm earnestness; a majestic age of the ripest wisdom,\nwhen there came to him, as it were a second youth, with something of the\nfire of the old romantic feeling lighted up in him anew. And out of all\nthese prodigious efforts in so many directions, he passed unharmed, and\nnever lost himself. He steadily pursued his own task and refused to be\ndrawn aside. He stood aloof from the controversies of his time. The\nbattles of belief, philosophical systems, French Revolutions, Wars of\nLiberation, struggles of democracy and nationality,--these things\nmoved him little or not at all. But he is not on that account to be\nheld, as some foolish critics have held him, indifferent, selfish, or\nless serious, or less complete a man than his fellows. He did the best\nin any one's power: he resolutely kept to his own business, and, neither\nheating nor resting, worked at his own high aims, in the struggle not\nmerely to learn and to know, but to act and to do. He felt profoundly\nthat the best anyone can achieve for himself is often the best he can\nachieve for others. The whole moral of _Wilhelm Meister_ is that a man's\nfirst and greatest duty, whether to others or to himself, is to see that\nhis business in life is a worthy one and suited to his capacities. If he\ndiscovers his vocation and pursues it steadily, he will make his outer\nlife of the greatest use and service to the world, and at the same time\nproduce the utmost harmony within. That was what Goethe tried to do in\nhis own person, and he laboured at his self-imposed task with a\nperseverance, a real unselfishness, and a determination entirely\nadmirable.\n\nIt is almost the last fruit of this life of concentrated activity, the\nfinal outcome of this indomitable character, that is here put before us.\nAnd we shall find that to the complex phenomena of the world Goethe\napplied no other measure but reason and the nature and needs of man.\nWith a full consciousness of the mysteries that surround our existence,\nhe never made the futile endeavour to pass beyond the bounds of present\nknowledge and experience, or to resolve contradictions by manipulating\nthe facts. In these detached reflections he does, indeed, propound a\ntheory and sketch out a system of conduct; but they cannot, like the\n_Thoughts_ of Pascal, for instance, be brought under a single and\ndefinite point of view. They are a mirror of life itself, and the inner\nand outer facts of life in all their diversity. The unity they possess\nis the unity that is stamped upon them by the all-embracing personality\nof their author, always and unweariedly striving to make his life\nsystematic, distinct, and fruitful; and to judge them as a whole, a man\nmust be able to fathom so great a genius. But to every one in every walk\nof life Goethe has a word of wise counsel, as though he understood every\nform of existence and could enter into its needs. In a fine passage in\nthe _Wanderjahre_, he likens the thought that thus in wondrous fashion\ntakes a thousand particular shapes, to a mass of quicksilver, which, as\nit falls, separates into innumerable globules, spreading out on all\nsides. And while these sayings may present thoughts in seeming\ncontradiction one with another, as the moment that called them forth\npresented this or that side of experience, their inmost nature is a\ncommon tendency to realise a great ideal of life. It is little they owe\nto the form in which they are cast; they are not the elements of an\nartistic whole which must be seized before we can understand the full\nmeaning of its parts. They are a miscellaneous record of the shrewdest\nobservation; and to read them as they should be read, a few at a time,\nis like the opportunity of repeated converse with a man of extraordinary\ngifts, great insight, and the widest culture, who touches profoundly and\nsuggestively now on this, now on that aspect of life and the world and\nthe progress of knowledge. It is the fruit of his own experience that\nGoethe gives us; and we shall do well to think of it as he himself\nthought of another book, and to bear in mind that \"every word which we\ntake in a general sense and apply to ourselves, had, under certain\ncircumstances of time and place, a peculiar, special and directly\nindividual reference.\"\n\nGoethe is no exception to the rest of mankind in not being equally wise\nat all times, and in the maxims there are degrees of value: they do not\nall shine with the like brilliance. Some of them are valuable only for\nwhat they suggest; of some, again, it is easy to see that, they appear\nas matters of speculation rather than as certainties. They raise\ndifficulties, ask for criticism, if possible, correction; or, it may be,\nthey call attention to the contrary view and invite a harmony of\nopposites. Some of them make a great demand upon our ability \"to\nunderstand a proverb and the interpretation; the words of the wise and\ntheir dark sayings.\" Their value sometimes depends on the way they are\nviewed, the culture brought to their understanding, the temper in which\nthey are approached. We look at them, and at first admire; we change our\npoint of view, and find something to criticise and dispute. The\nobscurity of maxims, as Goethe reminds us, is only relative; not\neverything can be explained to the reader which was present to the mind\nof the writer. Some of them seem at first to be of little interest; on\none side they may even repel, but from another they attract again, and\nwin perhaps a partial approval. They seem to move as we change our\nposition, and to be without fixed or certain character. But some, again,\nare so clear and unmistakable, so immeasurably above criticism or\nobjection, that like the furthest of the stars they have no parallax:\nwhatever position we take, their light is steadfast.\n\nLet no one suppose that in the main Goethe's reflections on life had\nnever been made before; that it was not so, no one knew better than he.\nAs a preface and note of warning to them all, he reiterates the words of\nthe preacher: \"there is no new thing under the sun.\" Yes! says Goethe,\nthere is nothing worth thinking but it has been thought before; _we must\nonly try to think it again_. \"It is only when we are faithful,\" he says\nelsewhere,[2] \"in arresting and noting our present thoughts, that we\nhave any joy in tradition; since we find the best thoughts already\nuttered, the finest feelings already expressed. This it is that gives us\nthe perception of that harmonious agreement to which man is called, and\nto which he must conform, often against his will as he is much too fond\nof fancying that the world begins afresh with himself.\" What Goethe\nmeans is that we shall do best to find out the truth of all things for\nourselves, for on one side truth is individual; and that we shall be\nhappy if our individual truth is also universal, or accords with the\nwisest thought of the past. It is in this practical light that we must\nview the maxims, and not as mere academic generalities. It is easy to\nread them in an hour and forget them as soon; easy to view them with a\ntepid interest as the work of a great author; but no one will fully\nunderstand the value of any of them, who has not experience enough to\nknow its truth. Well is it for us if with the experience we also gain\nthe truth! If any one should say that some of these maxims are very\nobvious, and so simply true as almost to be platitudes, I would bid him\nremember that the best education is often to discover these very simple\ntruths for oneself, and learn to see how much there is in commonplaces.\nFor those who have grown old in the world are never weary of telling us\nthat the further we go, the more we shall find, in general, that the\nsame things will happen to us as have happened to others; and it will\nthen be our advantage if we have the same reflections, best of all if we\ncome of ourselves to the same conclusions, as the wisest of those who\nhave gone before us; next best, if we can really and intelligently\nfollow in the footsteps of their thought.\n\nBut although the matter of Goethe's sayings is not original in the sense\nof being new to the world--while it was original for him, since he\ndiscovered it for himself and on his own path, their manner is something\nnew, and their range is unparalleled. Take any other set of maxims you\nwill, nowhere is there so wide an outlook, nowhere so just an estimate\nof human difficulties, nowhere an aim at once so lofty and so\npracticable. Nowhere is there a larger, stronger, healthier, more\ntolerant view of life and the world, or an atmosphere clearer of the\nmists that too often obscure and distort our vision. And in their\nexpression, nowhere is there so little of the besetting sin to sacrifice\ntruth to effect. Goethe has none of the shallow malice and uncharitable\ncandour that with writers of an earlier age passed for the practical\nwisdom of every day; and we need only contrast his maxims with the\nsimilar work of La Rochefoucauld, Helvetius, and Chamfort, admirable as\nthey may be in their exposure of human selfishness, to determine on\nwhich side is the greater service to mankind. How different the views of\nthe world taken by how many writers!--the secret of it all is that the\nmen themselves are different.\n\nIt was said of Goethe that his heart, which few knew, was as great as\nhis intellect, which all knew. Certainly his writings and not least his\nmaxims are a profound example of the truth that in the last resort it is\nmoral rather than intellectual qualities that make great literature. It\nis not to be denied that much may be done by a mere facility of style, a\ncommand of words, a fine taste, a wide acquaintance with the turns and\nresources of language; but in the end the effect is produced by the man\nhimself, his character and his strength. To the strenuous, earnest man,\nlike Goethe, the world offers a stirring spectacle and provides a great\nopportunity; and he grasps and uses them both to the best of his\npeculiar capacity. It is diversity of temperament dealing with partial\nknowledge that makes so many and such various doctrines. A man's views\nof life are, in short, those which he deserves to have, and his writings\nare cast in the mould of his character. It is no more strange that the\nauthors of books should give us such varied pictures of the humanity\naround us, than that painters should conceive natural objects so\ndifferently. Literature, too, is like a gallery of landscape and\nportrait: it is the same world which is presented, the same men and\nthings; but the way of looking at it varies with the artist; who,\nwhatever his training may have been, will see in Nature what he brings\nto it himself. _Ars est homo additus natur\u00e6_. If this be truly to define\nthe essence and method of Art, it is equally true to say that Literature\nis man added to life; and, here as there, everything depends on the\ncharacter and capacity of the man.\n\nNo one has as yet said that he doubts Goethe's capacity, although there\nare many who have solemnly pronounced him uninteresting. The critic who\ncan read Goethe's works with real attention, and then venture to call\nthem dull, is simply showing that he has no call to the office he\nassumes, or no interest in literature of the highest class. What is\ntrue, of course, is that Goethe is profoundly serious, and he is,\ntherefore, not always entertaining; but that is enough to make him pass\nfor dull in the eyes of those who take literature only as a pastime,--a\nsubstitute for a cigar, or something to lull them to sleep when they are\ntired. But another and more formidable accusation is made against Goethe\nwhich affects his character, and would go far to destroy the value of\nhis writings if it were true; but to many it is curiously inconsistent\nwith the other charge of being dull. It is that he is immoral. Now of\nall the great writers of the world, Goethe is admittedly the greatest\nteacher. He is essentially and frankly didactic; and nowhere is there so\nlarge and worthy a body of literature from a single pen which is\ninformed with so high and so serious a purpose. Roundly to call its\nauthor immoral is a charge which sufficiently refutes itself by its own\nignorance and absurdity. The charge comes, as a rule, from those who\njudge life by the needs and duties of a young girl, and they confound\nthe whole of morality--character and conduct in all relations to one's\nfellow-men--with one section of it. They forget that Goethe was a man of\nthe old _r\u00e9gime_; that his faults were those of his time and class. They\nforget that an extreme repugnance to all monasticism, asceticism, and\nRoman Catholicism in general, naturally led him to pay a diminished\nregard to the one virtue of which the Christian world is sometimes apt\nto exaggerate the importance, and on which it is often ready to hang all\nthe law and the prophets. To some, again, Goethe appears to be a\nsupremely selfish wizard, dissecting human passion in the coldest blood,\nand making poetical capital out of the emotional tortures he caused in\nothers. This, too, is a charge which the merest acquaintance with his\nlife and work must of necessity refute: it is too simple a slander to be\nseriously discussed. Since these are charges which have, however, kept\nmany estimable people from reading Goethe, it may be some consolation to\nthem to know that the maxims are entirely free from any possibility of\nobjection on this ground.\n\nThe element of moral teaching which runs through Goethe's mature works\nlike a golden thread, re-appears in the maxims free and detached from\nthe poetic and romantic environment which in such varied shapes is woven\naround it in _Werther, Tasso, Meister_, above all in _Faust_. To do the\nnext duty; to meet the claims of each day; to persist with a single mind\nand unwearied effort on a definite, positive, productive path;\ncheerfully to renounce what is denied us, and vigorously to make the\nbest of what we have; to restrain vague desires and uncertain aims; to\ncease bewailing the vanity of all things and the fleeting nature of this\nour world, and do what we can to make our stay in it of lasting\nuse,--these are lessons which will always be needed, and all the more\nneeded as life becomes increasingly complex. They are taught in the\nmaxims with a great variety of application, and nowhere so concisely\nsummarised as in one of them. \"The mind endowed with active powers,\" so\nit runs, \"and keeping with a practical object to the task that lies\nnearest, is the worthiest there is on earth.\"\n\nGoethe has been called, and with truth, the prophet of culture; but the\nword is often misunderstood. We cannot too clearly see that what is here\nmeant is not a mere range of intellectual knowledge, pursued with\nidolatrous devotion: it is moral discipline, a practical endeavour,\nforming wise thought and noble character. And this is the product, not\nof learning, but of work: if we are to know and realise what there is in\nus, and make the best of it, our aim must be practical and creative.\n\"Let every man,\" he urges, \"ask himself with which of his faculties he\ncan and will somehow influence his age.\" And again: \"From this time\nforward, if a man does not apply himself to some art or handiwork, he\nwill be in a bad way. In the rapid changes of the world, knowledge is no\nlonger a furtherance. By the time a man has taken note of everything, he\nhas lost himself.\" The culture of which he speaks is not mainly\nintellectual. We use the word in a way that is apt to limit and conceal\nits meaning, and we often apply it to a strange form of mental growth,\nat once stunted and overfed, to which, if we may judge by its fruits,\nany breath of real culture would be fatal. It has nothing to do with\nlearning in the general and narrow sense of the word, or with the often\npernicious effects of mere learning. In the language of the hour we are\nwont to give the exclusive name of culture to a wide acquaintance with\nbooks and languages; whether or not it results, as it has before now\nresulted, in a want of culture in character and outward demeanour, in\nairs of conceit, in foolish arrogance, in malice and acrimony.\n\nA uniform activity with a moral aim--that, in Goethe's view, is the\nhighest we can achieve in life. \"Character in matters great and small\nconsists,\" he says, \"in a man steadily pursuing the things of which he\nfeels himself capable.\" It is the gospel of work: our endeavour must be\nto realise our best self in deed and action; to strive until our\npersonality attains, in Aristotle's word, its entelechy; its full\ndevelopment. By this alone can we resolve all the doubts and hesitations\nand conflicts within that undermine and destroy the soul. \"Try to do\nyour duty, and you will know at once what you are worth.\" And with all\nour doing, what should be the goal of our activity? In no wise our own\nself, our own weal. \"A man is happy only when he delights in the\ngood-will of others,\" and we must of a truth \"give up existence in order\nto exist\"; we must never suppose that happiness is identical with\npersonal welfare. In the moral sphere we need, as Kant taught, a\ncategorical imperative; but, says Goethe, that is not the end of the\nmatter; it is only the beginning. We must widen our conception of duty\nand recognise a perfect morality only \"where a man loves what he\ncommands himself to do.\" \"Voluntary dependence is the best state, and\nhow should that be possible without love?\" And just in the same sense\nGoethe refuses to regard all self-denial as virtuous, but only the\nself-denial that leads to some useful end. All other forms of it are\nimmoral, since they stunt and cramp the free development of what is best\nin us--the desire, namely, to deal effectively with our present life,\nand make the most and fairest of it.\n\nAnd here it is that Goethe's moral code is fused with his religious\nbelief. \"Piety,\" he says, \"is not an end but a means: a means of\nattaining the highest culture by the purest tranquillity of soul.\" This\nis the piety he preaches; not the morbid introspection that leads to no\nuseful end, the state of brooding melancholy, the timorous\nself-abasement, the anxious speculation as to some other condition of\nbeing. And this tranquillity of soul, Goethe taught that it should be\nours, in spite of the thousand ills of life which give us pause in our\noptimism. It is attained by the firm assurance that, somewhere and\nsomehow, a power exists that makes for moral good; that our moral\nendeavours are met, so to speak, half-way by a moral order in the\nuniverse, which comes to the aid of individual effort. And the sum and\nsubstance of his teaching, whether in the maxims or in any other of his\nmature productions, is that we must resign ourselves to this power, in\ngratitude and reverence towards it and all its manifestations in\nwhatever is good and beautiful. This is Goethe's strong faith, his\nperfect and serene trust. He finely shadows it forth in the closing\nwords of _Pandora_, where Eos proclaims that the work of the gods is to\nlead our efforts to the eternal good, and that we must give them free\nplay:--\n\n     Was zu w\u00fcnschen ist, ihr unten f\u00fchlt es;\n     Was zu geben sei, die wissen's droben.\n     Gross beginnet ihr Titanen; aber leiten\n     Zu dem ewig Guten, ewig Sch\u00f6nen,\n     Ist der G\u00f6tter Werk; die lasst gew\u00e4hren.\n\nAnd so too in _Faust_: it is the long struggle to realise an Ideal,\ndimly seen on life's labyrinthine way of error, that leads at last to\nthe perfect redemption:--\n\n     Wer immer strebend sich bem\u00fcht,\n     Den k\u00f6nnen wir erl\u00f6sen.\n\nAnd throughout the perplexities of life and the world, where all things\nare but signs and tokens of some inner and hidden reality, it is the\nideal of love and service, _das Ewig-Weibliche_, that draws us on.\n\nBut this assurance cannot be reached by a mere theory; and Goethe is not\nslow to declare how he views attempts to reach it in that way. \"_Credo\nDeum!_ that,\" he reminds us here, \"is a fine, a worthy thing to say; but\nto recognise God when and where he reveals himself, is the only true\nbliss on earth.\" All else is mystery. We are not born, as he said to\nEckermann, to solve the problems of the world, but to find out where the\nproblem begins, and then to keep within the limits of what we can grasp.\nThe problem, he urged, is transformed into a postulate: if we cannot get\na solution theoretically, we can get it in the experience of practical\nlife. We reach it by the use of an \"active scepticism,\" of which he says\nthat \"it continually aims at overcoming itself and arriving by means of\nregulated experience at a kind of conditioned certainty.\" But he would\nhave nothing to do with doctrinal systems, and, like Schiller, professed\nnone of the forms of religion from a feeling of religion itself. To see\nhow he views some particular questions of theology the reader may turn\nwith profit to his maxims on the Reformation and early Christianity, and\nto his admirable remarks on the use and abuse of the Bible. The basis of\nreligion was for him its own earnestness; and it was not always needful,\nhe held, for truth to take a definite shape: \"it is enough if it hovers\nabout us like a spirit and produces harmony.\" \"I believe,\" he said to\nEckermann, \"in God and Nature and the victory of good over evil; but I\nwas also asked to believe that three was one, and one was three. That\njarred upon my feeling for truth; and I did not see how it could have\nhelped me in the least.\" As for letting our minds roam beyond this\npresent life, he thought there was actual danger in it; although he\nlooked for a future existence, a continuation of work and activity, in\nwhich what is here incomplete should reach its full development. And\nwhatever be the secrets of the universe, assuredly the best we can do is\nto do our best here; and the worst of blasphemies is to regard this life\nas altogether vanity; for as these pages tell us, \"it would not be worth\nwhile to see seventy years if all the wisdom of this world were\nfoolishness with God.\"\n\nIn Goethe we pass, as over a bridge, from the eighteenth century to the\nnineteenth; but though he lived to see a third of the nineteenth\ncentury, he hardly belongs to it. Of its political characteristics he\nhad few or none. He was no democrat. As the prophet of inward culture,\nhe took the French Revolution for a disturbance, an interruption, and\nnot a development in the progress of the world's history; and for all\nits horrors and the pernicious demoralisation of its leaders, he had the\nprofoundest aversion. But afterwards he came to see that it had\nbeneficial results; that a revolution is ultimately never the fault of\nthe people, but of the injustice and incapacity of the government; and\nthat where there is a real necessity for a great reform, the old leaven\nmust be rooted out.[3] But he knew the danger of such a process, and he\nindicates it here in an admirable saying: \"Before the French Revolution\nit was all _effort_; afterwards it all changed to _demand_\"; and this\nmay be supplemented by his opinion on the nature of revolutionary\nsentiments: \"Men think they would be well-off if they were not ruled,\nand fail to perceive that they can rule neither themselves nor others.\"\nAnd if he, had thus no theoretical sympathy with democratic movements,\nhe had little feeling for that other great political tendency of our\ntime--nationality; convinced as he was that interest in the weal and woe\nof another people is always a mark of the highest culture. But apart\nfrom politics there is one characteristic of our own time in which he\nfully and especially shares, if only for the reason that he did much\nhimself to produce it; and herein he has influenced us profoundly and is\ninfluencing us still. The nineteenth century has this advantage over\nevery preceding age, that in it for the first time honest doubt, instead\nof distinguishing a few, has become a common virtue. Goethe is one of\nthe surest and safest of those who have led the transition. \"We praise\nthe eighteenth century,\" he writes, \"for concerning itself chiefly with\nanalysis. The task remaining to the nineteenth is to discover the false\nsyntheses which prevail, and to analyse their contents anew.\" Of the aim\nof analysis and the proper course of inquiry, no one has given a better\naccount than Goethe in what he says, in the words I have quoted, about\nactive scepticism; and in the sphere of morals and religion it will\nperhaps be found hereafter that he has contributed, in some degree at\nleast, to the attainment of that \"conditioned certainty,\" for which, as\nwe hope, all our efforts are made.\n\nIn the maxims on Literature there is some excellent criticism on\nliterary methods, and much that may well be taken to heart by certain\nwriters of our own day. Goethe had little but rebuke for the whole of\nthe romantic movement, which began in his old age. The German form of it\nhe thought unnatural, and at best a conventional imitation of an earlier\nperiod; and the French form, of which Victor Hugo was then the rising\nstar, he thought a perversion of naturalism, an exaggeration of it until\nit became insipid or merely revolting. To Byron alone he gave the\ntribute of the most ungrudging admiration: in the opposition between\nclassicism and romanticism, he declined to take him for a follower of\neither, but as the complete representative of his own time. The maxim\nthat \"the classical is health, and the romantic, disease,\" may not\naltogether commend itself to us now; but with wonderful insight Goethe\nforesaw the direction in which the romantic movement would lead. \"The\nromantic,\" he says here, \"is already fallen into its own abysm. It is\nhard to imagine anything more degraded than the worst of the new\nproductions.\" If he could have said this two generations ago, what would\nhe have said now? How could he have spoken without contempt of those who\nmake all that is common and unclean in itself a subject with which\nliterature may properly be occupied? These are the writers who profess\nto be realists, under a completely mistaken notion of what realism\nmeans, as applied to art; and to them the chief realities seem to be\njust the very things that decent people keep out of sight. They forget\nthat in literature, as in all art, the dominating realities are the\nhighest Ideals. As an antidote to this poison of corruption Goethe\npointed to the ancient world, and bid us study there the types of the\nloftiest manhood. \"Bodies which rot while they are still alive and are\nedified by the detailed contemplation of their own decay; dead men who\nremain in the world for the ruin of others, and feed their death on the\nliving--to this,\" he exclaimed, \"have come our makers of literature.\nWhen the same thing happened in antiquity, it was only as a strange\ntoken of some rare disease; but with the moderns the disease has become\nendemic and epidemic.\" Akin to these pseudo-realists, and coming under\nthe same ban, are some of our modern novel-writers who do, indeed, avoid\nthe depth of degradation, but try to move the feelings by dwelling in a\nsimilar fashion on matters which are not, and never can be, fit subjects\nof literary treatment; such as painful deaths by horrible distempers, or\nthe minute details of prolonged operations. It is poor skill that cannot\nfind material enough in the moral sufferings of men and women, and is\ndriven to seek effect in descriptions of disease and surgery. Surely in\nany literature worthy of the name these are topics which a richer\nimagination and a more prolific art would have found unnecessary, and\nbetter taste would have left undescribed.\n\nTo another class of writers--those who handle a pretty pen without\nhaving anything definite to present, or anything important to say,\nGoethe has also an applicable word. It is a class which is always\nincreasing in number, and tends to increase in talent. We may admit that\nsecond- or third-rate work, especially in poetry, was never before done\nso well as it is done now; and still we may find some useful truth in a\ndistinction which Goethe drew for the benefit of the minor poets and the\nminor prose-writers of his own age. \"Productions are now possible,\" he\nsaid, \"which, without being bad, have no value. They have no value,\nbecause they contain nothing; and they are not bad, because a general\nform of good workmanship is present to the author's mind.\" In one of the\nmany neglected volumes of his miscellaneous writings Goethe has a series\nof admirable notes for a proposed work on _Dilettantism_; and there the\nreader, if he is interested in Goethe's literary criticism, will find\nsome instructive remarks in close connection with this aphorism, and\nalso certain rules for discriminating between good and indifferent work\nwhich ought to receive the most attentive study. And the stylists who\nneglect plain language for a mosaic of curious phrase and overstrained\nepithet, may profitably remember that, as Goethe here says, \"it is not\nlanguage in itself which is correct or forcible or elegant, but the mind\nthat is embodied in it.\"\n\n\"Translators,\" he tells us, \"sing the praises of some half-veiled beauty\nand rouse an irresistible longing for the original.\" To them also he\ngives a piece of excellent advice: \"The translator must proceed until\nhe reaches the untranslatable.\" This is a counsel of exhortation as well\nas of warning. It bids the translator spare no effort, but tells him\nthat at a certain point his efforts are of no avail. But none the less,\nGoethe might have added, the faithful translator must strive as if this\nhindrance to perfection did not exist; for it is thus only that he, or\nany one else, can do anything worth doing. On methods of translation\nmuch may be said, and it is sometimes urged, in a given case, that it is\nnot literal or that it is too free. A distinguished writer has recently\nlaid down that a translation should reproduce every word and phrase and\nsentence of the original as accurately as a delicate tracing reproduces\nthe lines of a drawing. This is advice which may hold in the\nschool-room, but, I venture to maintain, nowhere else. In so far as\nevery language has a peculiar genius, a literal translation must\nnecessarily be a bad one; and any faithful translation will of its\nnature be free. In other words, a translator will err if he slavishly\nadheres to mere expression; he must have complete liberty to give his\nauthor's meaning and style in the manner which he holds to be truest to\nthe original; and so, in translating from a foreign tongue, it will be\nwell for him to have some knowledge of his own. But he must guard\nagainst the abuse of his position: his liberty may become license, and\nhis translation instead of being faithful may be phantastic. The\ntranslator's first and last duty is, then, to efface himself. His first\nduty is to stand entirely at the point of view of his author's thought;\nhis last, to find the clearest and nearest expression in his own\nlanguage both for that thought and for whatever is characteristic in the\nway of conveying it; neither adding anything of his own nor taking away\nanything from his author. The best translation is thus a re-embodiment\nof the author's spirit, a real metempsychosis. Nothing can be done\nwithout ideals, and this is the ideal at which the present translation\naims. That it fails of its aim and has many defects, no one knows better\nthan the translator himself; and he can only cherish the hope that where\nhe falls short he is sometimes close to the confines of what cannot be\ntranslated.\n\nDecember 2, 1892.\n\n\n[1] _Goethe's Spr\u00fcche in Prosa_: zum ersten Mal erl\u00e4utert und auf ihre\nQuellen zur\u00fcckgef\u00fchrt von G. v. Loeper, Berlin, 1870. This forms the\ntext of the translation.\n\n[2] _Wilhelm Meisters Wanderjahre_, Bk. I. ch. 10.\n\n[3] _Gespr\u00e4che mit Eckermann_, III. 4 January, 1824.\n\n\n\n\nLIFE AND CHARACTER\n\n\nI\n\n1\n\nThere is nothing worth thinking but it has been thought before; we must\nonly try to think it again.\n\n2\n\nHow can a man come to know himself? Never by thinking, but by doing. Try\nto do your duty, and you will know at once what you are worth.\n\n3\n\nBut what is your duty? The claims of the day.\n\n4\n\nThe world of reason is to be regarded as a great and immortal being, who\nceaselessly works out what is necessary, and so makes himself lord also\nover what is accidental.\n\n5\n\nThe longer I live, the more it grieves me to see man, who occupies his\nsupreme place for the very purpose of imposing his will upon nature, and\nfreeing himself and his from an outrageous necessity,--to see him taken\nup with some false notion, and doing just the opposite of what he wants\nto do; and then, because the whole bent of his mind is spoilt, bungling\nmiserably over everything.\n\n6\n\nBe genuine and strenuous; earn for yourself, and look for, grace from\nthose in high places; from the powerful, favour; from the active and\nthe good, advancement; from the many, affection; from the individual,\nlove.\n\n7\n\nTell me with whom you associate, and I will tell you who you are. If I\nknow what your business is, I know what can be made of you.\n\n8\n\nEvery man must think after his own fashion; for on his own path he finds\na truth, or a kind of truth, which helps him through life. But he must\nnot give himself the rein; he must control himself; mere naked instinct\ndoes not become him.\n\n9\n\nUnqualified activity, of whatever kind, leads at last to bankruptcy.\n\n10\n\nIn the works of mankind, as in those of nature, it is really the motive\nwhich is chiefly worth attention.\n\n11\n\nMen get out of countenance with themselves and others because they treat\nthe means as the end, and so, from sheer doing, do nothing, or, perhaps,\njust what they would have avoided.\n\n12\n\nOur plans and designs should be so perfect in truth and beauty, that in\ntouching them the world could only mar. We should thus have the\nadvantage of setting right what is wrong, and restoring what is\ndestroyed.\n\n13\n\nIt is a very hard and troublesome thing to dispose of whole, half-, and\nquarter-mistakes; to sift them and assign the portion of truth to its\nproper place.\n\n14\n\nIt is not always needful for truth to take a definite shape; it is\nenough if it hovers about us like a spirit and produces harmony; if it\nis wafted through the air like the sound of a bell, grave and kindly.\n\n15\n\nGeneral ideas and great conceit are always in a fair way to bring about\nterrible misfortune.\n\n16\n\nYou cannot play the flute by blowing alone: you must use your fingers.\n\n17\n\nIn Botany there is a species of plants called _Incomplet\u00e6_; and just in\nthe same way it can be said that there are men who are incomplete and\nimperfect. They are those whose desires and struggles are out of\nproportion to their actions and achievements.\n\n18\n\nThe most insignificant man can be complete if he works within the limits\nof his capacities, innate or acquired; but even fine talents can be\nobscured, neutralised, and destroyed by lack of this indispensable\nrequirement of symmetry. This is a mischief which will often occur in\nmodern times; for who will be able to come up to the claims of an age so\nfull and intense as this, and one too that moves so rapidly?\n\n19\n\nIt is only men of practical ability, knowing their powers and using them\nwith moderation and prudence, who will be successful in worldly affairs.\n\n20\n\nIt is a great error to take oneself for more than one is, or for less\nthan one is worth.\n\n21\n\nFrom time to time I meet with a youth in whom I can wish for no\nalteration or improvement, only I am sorry to see how often his nature\nmakes him quite ready to swim with the stream of the time; and it is on\nthis that I would always insist, that man in his fragile boat has the\nrudder placed in his hand, just that he may not be at the mercy of the\nwaves, but follow the direction of his own insight.\n\n22\n\nBut how is a young man to come of himself to see blame in things which\nevery one is busy with, which every one approves and promotes? Why\nshould he not follow his natural bent and go in the same direction as\nthey?\n\n23\n\nI must hold it for the greatest calamity of our time, which lets nothing\ncome to maturity, that one moment is consumed by the next, and the day\nspent in the day; so that a man is always living from hand to mouth,\nwithout having anything to show for it. Have we not already newspapers\nfor every hour of the day! A good head could assuredly intercalate one\nor other of them. They publish abroad everything that every one does, or\nis busy with or meditating; nay, his very designs are thereby dragged\ninto publicity. No one can rejoice or be sorry, but as a pastime for\nothers; and so it goes on from house to house, from city to city, from\nkingdom to kingdom, and at last from one hemisphere to the other,--all\nin post haste.\n\n24\n\nAs little as you can stifle a steam-engine, so little can you do this in\nthe moral sphere either. The activity of commerce, the rush and rustle\nof paper-money, the swelling-up of debts to pay debts--all these are\nthe monstrous elements to which in these days a young man is exposed.\nWell is it for him if he is gifted by nature with a sober, quiet\ntemperament; neither to make claims on the world out of all proportion\nto his position, nor yet let the world determine it.\n\n25\n\nBut on all sides he is threatened by the spirit of the day, and nothing\nis more needful than to make him see early enough the direction in which\nhis will has to steer.\n\n26\n\nThe significance of the most harmless words and actions grows with the\nyears, and if I see any one about me for any length of time, I always\ntry to show him the difference there is between sincerity, confidence,\nand indiscretion; nay, that in truth there is no difference at all, but\na gentle transition from what is most innocent to what is most hurtful;\na transition which must be perceived or rather felt.\n\n27\n\nHerein we must exercise our tact; otherwise in the very way in which we\nhave won the favour of mankind, we run the risk of trifling it away\nagain unawares. This is a lesson which a man learns quite well for\nhimself in the course of life, but only after having paid a dear price\nfor it; nor can he, unhappily, spare his posterity a like expenditure.\n\n28\n\nLove of truth shows itself in this, that a man knows how to find and\nvalue the good in everything.\n\n29\n\nCharacter calls forth character.\n\n30\n\nIf I am to listen to another man's opinion, it must be expressed\npositively. Of things problematical I have enough in myself.\n\n31\n\nSuperstition is a part of the very being of humanity; and when we fancy\nthat we are banishing it altogether, it takes refuge in the strangest\nnooks and corners, and then suddenly comes forth again, as soon as it\nbelieves itself at all safe.\n\n32\n\nI keep silence about many things, for I do not want to put people out of\ncountenance; and I am well content if they are pleased with things that\nannoy me.\n\n33\n\nEverything that frees our spirit without giving us control of ourselves\nis ruinous.\n\n34\n\nA man is really alive only when he delights in the good-will of others.\n\n35\n\nPiety is not an end, but a means: a means of attaining the highest\nculture by the purest tranquillity of soul.\n\n36\n\nHence it may be observed that those who set up piety as an end and\nobject are mostly hypocrites.\n\n37\n\nWhen a man is old he must do more than when he was young.\n\n38\n\nTo fulfil a duty is still always to feel it as a debt, for it is never\nquite satisfying to oneself.\n\n39\n\nDefects are perceived only by one who has no love; therefore, to see\nthem, a man must become uncharitable, but not more so than is necessary\nfor the purpose.\n\n40\n\nThe greatest piece of good fortune is that which corrects our\ndeficiencies and redeems our mistakes.\n\n41\n\nReading ought to mean understanding; writing ought to mean knowing\nsomething; believing ought to mean comprehending; when you desire a\nthing, you will have to take it; when you demand it, you will not get\nit; and when you are experienced, you ought to be useful to others.\n\n42\n\nThe stream is friendly to the miller whom it serves; it likes to pour\nover the mill wheels; what is the good of it stealing through the valley\nin apathy?\n\n43\n\nWhoso is content with pure experience and acts upon it has enough of\ntruth. The growing child is wise in this sense.\n\n44\n\nTheory is in itself of no use, except in so far as it makes us believe\nin the connection of phenomena.\n\n45\n\nWhen a man asks too much and delights in complication, he is exposed to\nperplexity.\n\n46\n\nThinking by means of analogies is not to be condemned. Analogy has this\nadvantage, that it comes to no conclusion, and does not, in truth, aim\nat finality at all. Induction, on the contrary, is fatal, for it sets up\nan object and keeps it in view, and, working on towards it, drags false\nand true with it in its train.\n\n47\n\nThe absent works upon us by tradition. The usual form of it may be\ncalled historical; a higher form, akin to the imaginative faculty, is\nthe mythical. If some third form of it is to be sought behind this last,\nand it has any meaning, it is transformed into the mystical. It also\neasily becomes sentimental, so that we appropriate to our use only what\nsuits us.\n\n48\n\nIn contemplation as in action, we must distinguish between what may be\nattained and what is unattainable. Without this, little can be achieved,\neither in life or in knowledge.\n\n49\n\n_'Le sense commun est le g\u00e9nie de l'humanit\u00e9.'_\n\nCommon-sense, which is here put forward as the genius of humanity, must\nbe examined first of all in the way it shows itself. If we inquire the\npurpose to which humanity puts it, we find as follows: Humanity is\nconditioned by needs. If they are not satisfied, men become impatient;\nand if they are, it seems not to affect them. The normal man moves\nbetween these two states, and he applies his understanding--his\nso-called common-sense--to the satisfaction of his needs. When his needs\nare satisfied, his task is to fill up the waste spaces of indifference.\nHere, too, he is successful, if his needs are confined to what is\nnearest and most necessary. But if they rise and pass beyond the sphere\nof ordinary wants, common-sense is no longer sufficient; it is a genius\nno more, and humanity enters on the region of error.\n\n50\n\nThere is no piece of foolishness but it can be corrected by intelligence\nor accident; no piece of wisdom but it can miscarry by lack of\nintelligence or by accident.\n\n51\n\nEvery great idea is a tyrant when it first appears; hence the advantages\nwhich it produces change all too quickly into disadvantages. It is\npossible, then, to defend and praise any institution that exists, if its\nbeginnings are brought to remembrance, and it is shown that everything\nwhich was true of it at the beginning is true of it still.\n\n52\n\nLessing, who chafed under the sense of various limitations, makes one of\nhis characters say: No one _must_ do anything. A clever pious man said:\nIf a man _wills_ something, he must do it. A third, who was, it is true,\nan educated man, added: _Will_ follows upon _insight_. The whole circle\nof _knowledge, will_, and _necessity_ was thus believed to have been\ncompleted. But, as a rule, a man's knowledge, of whatever kind it may\nbe, determines what he shall do and what he shall leave undone, and so\nit is that there is no more terrible sight than ignorance in action.\n\n53\n\nThere are two powers that make for peace: what is right, and what is\nfitting.\n\n54\n\nJustice insists on obligation, law on decorum. Justice weighs and\ndecides, law superintends and orders. Justice refers to the individual,\nlaw to society.\n\n55\n\nThe history of knowledge is a great fugue in which the voices of the\nnations one after the other emerge.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\n56\n\nIf a man is to achieve all that is asked of him, he must take himself\nfor more than he is, and as long as he does not carry it to an absurd\nlength, we willingly put up with it.\n\n57\n\nWork makes companionship.\n\n58\n\nPeople whip curds to see if they cannot make cream of them.\n\n59\n\nIt is much easier to put yourself in the position of a mind taken up\nwith the most absolute error, than of one which mirrors to itself\nhalf-truths.\n\n60\n\nWisdom lies only in truth.\n\n61\n\nWhen I err, every one can see it; but not when I lie.\n\n62\n\nIs not the world full enough of riddles already, without our making\nriddles too out of the simplest phenomena?\n\n63\n\n'The finest hair throws a shadow.' _Erasmus_.\n\n64\n\nWhat I have tried to do in my life through false tendencies, I have at\nlast learned to understand.\n\n65\n\nGenerosity wins favour for every one, especially when it is accompanied\nby modesty.\n\n66\n\nBefore the storm breaks, the dust rises violently for the last time--the\ndust that is soon to be laid forever.\n\n67\n\nMen do not come to know one another easily, even with the best will and\nthe best purpose. And then ill-will comes in and distorts everything.\n\n68\n\nWe should know one another better if one man were not so anxious to put\nhimself on an equality with another.\n\n69\n\nEminent men are therefore in a worse plight than others; for, as we\ncannot compare ourselves with them, we are on the watch for them.\n\n70\n\nIn the world the point is, not to know men, but at any given moment to\nbe cleverer than the man who stands before you. You can prove this at\nevery fair and from every charlatan.\n\n71\n\nNot everywhere where there is water, are there frogs; but where you have\nfrogs, there you will find water.\n\n72\n\nError is quite right as long as we are young, but we must not carry it\non with us into our old age.\n\nWhims and eccentricities that grow stale are all useless, rank nonsense.\n\n73\n\nIn the formation of species Nature gets, as it were, into a\n_cul-de-sac_; she cannot make her way through, and is disinclined to\nturn back. Hence the stubbornness of national character.\n\n74\n\nEvery one has something in his nature which, if he were to express it\nopenly, would of necessity give offence.\n\n75\n\nIf a man thinks about his physical or moral condition, he generally\nfinds that he is ill.\n\n76\n\nNature asks that a man should sometimes be stupefied without going to\nsleep; hence the pleasure in the smoking of tobacco, the drinking of\nbrandy, the use of opiates.\n\n77\n\nThe man who is up and doing should see to it that what he does is right.\nWhether or not right is done, is a matter which should not trouble him.\n\n78\n\nMany a man knocks about on the wall with his hammer, and believes that\nhe hits the right nail on the head every time.\n\n79\n\nPainting and tattooing of the body is a return to animalism.\n\n80\n\nHistory-writing is a way of getting rid of the past.\n\n81\n\nWhat a man does not understand, he does not possess.\n\n82\n\nNot every one who has a pregnant thought delivered to him becomes\nproductive; it probably makes him think of something with which he is\nquite familiar.\n\n83\n\nFavour, as a symbol of sovereignty, is exercised by weak men.\n\n84\n\nEvery man has enough power left to carry out that of which he is\nconvinced.\n\n85\n\nMemory may vanish so long as at the moment judgment does not fail you.\n\n86\n\nNo nation gains the power of judgment except it can pass judgment on\nitself. But to attain this great privilege takes a very long time.\n\n87\n\nInstead of contradicting my words people ought to act in my spirit.\n\n88\n\nThose who oppose intellectual truths do but stir up the fire, and the\ncinders fly about and burn what they had else not touched.\n\n89\n\nMan would not be the finest creature in the world if he were not too\nfine for it.\n\n90\n\nWhat a long time people were vainly disputing about the Antipodes!\n\n91\n\nCertain minds must be allowed their peculiarities.\n\n92\n\nSnow is false purity.\n\n93\n\nWhoso shrinks from ideas ends by having nothing but sensations.\n\n94\n\nThose from whom we are always learning are rightly called our masters;\nbut not every one who teaches us deserves this title.\n\n95\n\nIt is with you as with the sea: the most varied names are given to what\nis in the end only salt water.\n\n96\n\nIt is said that vain self-praise stinks in the nostrils. That may be so;\nbut for the kind of smell which comes from unjust blame by others the\npublic has no nose at all.\n\n97\n\nThere are problematical natures which are equal to no position in which\nthey find themselves, and which no position satisfies. This it is that\ncauses that hideous conflict which wastes life and deprives it of all\npleasure.\n\n98\n\nIf we do any real good, it is mostly _clam, vi, et precario_.\n\n99\n\nDirt glitters as long as the sun shines.\n\n100\n\nIt is difficult to be just to the passing moment. We are bored by it if\nit is neither good nor bad; but the good moment lays a task upon us, and\nthe bad moment a burden.\n\n101\n\nHe is the happiest man who can set the end of his life in connection\nwith the beginning.\n\n102\n\nSo obstinately contradictory is man that you cannot compel him to his\nadvantage, yet he yields before everything that forces him to his hurt.\n\n103\n\nForethought is simple, afterthought manifold.\n\n104\n\nA state of things in which every day brings some new trouble is not the\nright one.\n\n105\n\nWhen people suffer by failing to look before them, nothing is\ncommoner than trying to look out for some possible remedy.\n\n106\n\nThe Hindoos of the Desert make a solemn vow to eat no fish.\n\n107\n\nTo venture an opinion is like moving a piece at chess: it may be taken,\nbut it forms the beginning of a game that is won.\n\n108\n\nIt is as certain as it is strange that truth and error come from one and\nthe same source. Thus it is that we are often not at liberty to do\nviolence to error, because at the same time we do violence to truth.\n\n109\n\nTruth belongs to the man, error to his age. This is why it has been said\nthat, while the misfortune of the age caused his error, the force of his\nsoul made him emerge from the error with glory.\n\n110\n\nEvery one has his peculiarities and cannot get rid of them; and yet many\na one is destroyed by his peculiarities, and those too of the most\ninnocent kind.\n\n111\n\nIf a man does think too much of himself, he is more than he believes\nhimself to be.\n\n112\n\nIn art and knowledge, as also in deed and action, everything depends on\na pure apprehension of the object and a treatment of it according to its\nnature.\n\n113\n\nWhen intelligent and sensible people despise knowledge in their old age,\nit is only because they have asked too much of it and of themselves.\n\n114\n\nI pity those who make much ado about the transitory nature of all things\nand are lost in the contemplation of earthly vanity: are we not here to\nmake the transitory permanent? This we can do only if we know how to\nvalue both.\n\n115\n\nA rainbow which lasts a quarter of an hour is looked at no more.\n\n116\n\nIt used to happen, and still happens, to me to take no pleasure in a\nwork of art at the first sight of it, because it is too much for me; but\nif I suspect any merit in it, I try to get at it; and then I never fail\nto make the most gratifying discoveries,--to find new qualities in the\nwork itself and new faculties in myself.\n\n117\n\nFaith is private capital, kept in one's own house. There are public\nsavings-banks and loan-offices, which supply individuals in their day of\nneed; but here the creditor quietly takes his interest for himself.\n\n118\n\nReal obscurantism is not to hinder the spread of what is true, clear,\nand useful, but to bring into vogue what is false.\n\n119\n\nDuring a prolonged study of the lives of various men both great and\nsmall, I came upon this thought: In the web of the world the one may\nwell be regarded as the warp, the other as the woof. It is the little\nmen, after all, who give breadth to the web, and the great men firmness\nand solidity; perhaps, also, the addition of some sort of pattern. But\nthe scissors of the Fates determine its length, and to that all the rest\nmust join in submitting itself.\n\n120\n\nTruth is a torch, but a huge one, and so it is only with blinking eyes\nthat we all of us try to get past it, in actual terror of being burnt.\n\n121\n\n'The wise have much in common with one another.' _\u00c6schylus_.\n\n122\n\nThe really foolish thing in men who are otherwise intelligent is that\nthey fail to understand what another person says, when he does not\nexactly hit upon the right way of saying it.\n\n123\n\nBecause a man speaks, he thinks he is able to speak about language.\n\n124\n\nOne need only grow old to become gentler in one's judgments. I see no\nfault committed which I could not have committed myself.\n\n125\n\nThe man who acts never has any conscience; no one has any conscience but\nthe man who thinks.\n\n126\n\nWhy should those who are happy expect one who is miserable to die before\nthem in a graceful attitude, like the gladiator before the Roman mob?\n\n127\n\nSome one asked Timon about the education of his children. 'Let them,' he\nsaid, 'be instructed in that which they will never understand.'\n\n128\n\nThere are people whom I wish well, and would that I could wish better.\n\n129\n\nBy force of habit we look at a clock that has run down as if it were\nstill going, and we gaze at the face of a beauty as though she still\nloved.\n\n130\n\nHatred is active displeasure, envy passive. We need not wonder that envy\nturns so soon to hatred.\n\n\n131\n\nThere is something magical in rhythm; it even makes us believe that we\npossess the sublime.\n\n132\n\nDilettantism treated seriously, and knowledge pursued mechanically, end\nby becoming pedantry.\n\n133\n\nNo one but the master can promote the cause of Art. Patrons help the\nmaster,--that is right and proper; but that does not always mean that\nArt is helped.\n\n134\n\nThe most foolish of all errors is for clever young men to believe that\nthey forfeit their originality in recognising a truth which has already\nbeen recognised by others.\n\n135\n\nScholars are generally malignant when they are refuting others; and if\nthey think a man is making a mistake, they straightway look upon him as\ntheir mortal enemy.\n\n136\n\nBeauty can never really understand itself.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\n137\n\nIt is much easier to recognise error than to find truth; for error lies\non the surface and may be overcome; but truth lies in the depths, and to\nsearch for it is not given to every one.\n\n138\n\nWe all live on the past, and through the past are destroyed.\n\n139\n\nWe are no sooner about to learn some great lesson than we take refuge in\nour own innate poverty of soul, and yet for all that the lesson has not\nbeen quite in vain.\n\n140\n\nThe world of empirical morality consists for the most part of nothing\nbut ill-will and envy.\n\n141\n\nLife seems so vulgar, so easily content with the commonplace things of\nevery day, and yet it always nurses and cherishes certain higher claims\nin secret, and looks about for the means of satisfying them.\n\n142\n\nConfidences are strange things. If you listen only to one man, it is\npossible that he is deceived or mistaken; if you listen to many, they\nare in a like case; and, generally, you cannot get at the truth at all.\n\n143\n\nNo one should desire to live in irregular circumstances; but if by\nchance a man falls into them, they test his character and show of how\nmuch determination he is capable.\n\n144\n\nAn honourable man with limited ideas often sees through the rascality of\nthe most cunning jobber.\n\n145\n\nIf a man feels no love, he must learn how to flatter; otherwise he will\nnot succeed.\n\n146\n\nAgainst criticism a man can neither protest nor defend himself; he must\nact in spite of it, and then criticism will gradually yield to him.\n\n147\n\nThe masses cannot dispense with men of ability, and such men are always\na burden to them.\n\n148\n\nIf a man spreads my failings abroad, he is my master, even though he\nwere my servant.\n\n149\n\nWhether memoirs are written by masters of servants, or by servants of\nmasters, the processes always meet.\n\n150\n\nIf you lay duties upon people and give them no rights, you must pay them\nwell.\n\n151\n\nI can promise to be sincere, but not to be impartial.\n\n152\n\nIngratitude is always a kind of weakness. I have never known men of\nability to be ungrateful.\n\n153\n\nWe are all so limited that we always think we are right; and so we may\nconceive of an extraordinary mind which not only errs but has a positive\ndelight in error.\n\n154\n\nIt is very rare to find pure and steady activity in the accomplishment\nof what is good and right. We usually see pedantry trying to keep back,\nand audacity trying to go on too fast.\n\n155\n\nWord and picture are correlatives which are continually in quest of each\nother, as is sufficiently evident in the case of metaphors and similes.\nSo from all time what was said or sung inwardly to the ear had to be\npresented equally to the eye. And so in childish days we see word and\npicture in continual balance; in the book of the law and in the way of\nsalvation, in the Bible and in the spelling-book. When something was\nspoken which could not be pictured, and something pictured which could\nnot be spoken, all went well; but mistakes were often made, and a word\nwas used instead of a picture; and thence arose those monsters of\nsymbolical mysticism, which are doubly an evil.\n\n156\n\nFor the man of the world a collection of anecdotes and maxims is of the\ngreatest value, if he knows how to intersperse the one in his\nconversation at fitting moments, and remember the other when a case\narises for their application.\n\n157\n\nWhen you lose interest in anything, you also lose the memory for it.\n\n158\n\nThe world is a bell with a crack in it; it rattles, but does not ring.\n\n159\n\nThe importunity of young dilettanti must be borne with good-will; for as\nthey grow old they become the truest worshippers of Art and the Master.\n\n160\n\nPeople have to become really bad before they care for nothing but\nmischief, and delight in it.\n\n161\n\nClever people are the best encyclop\u00e6dia.\n\n162\n\nThere are people who make no mistakes because they never wish to do\nanything worth doing.\n\n163\n\nIf I know my relation to myself and the outer world, I call it truth.\nEvery man can have his own peculiar truth; and yet it is always the\nsame.\n\n164\n\nNo one is the master of any truly productive energy; and all men must\nlet it work on by itself.\n\n165\n\nA man never understands how anthropomorphic he is.\n\n166\n\nA difference which offers nothing to the understanding is no difference\nat all.\n\n167\n\nA man cannot live for every one; least of all for those with whom he\nwould not care to live.\n\n168\n\nIf a man sets out to study all the laws, he will have no time left to\ntransgress them.\n\n169\n\nThings that are mysterious are not yet miracles.\n\n170\n\n'Converts are not in my good books.'\n\n171\n\nA frivolous impulsive encouragement of problematical talents was a\nmistake of my early years; and I have never been able to abandon it\naltogether.\n\n172\n\nI should like to be honest with you, without our falling out; but it\nwill not do. You act wrongly, and fall between two stools; you win no\nadherents and lose your friends. What is to be the end of it?\n\n173\n\nIt is all one whether you are of high or of humble origin. You will\nalways have to pay for your humanity.\n\n174\n\nWhen I hear people speak of liberal ideas, it is always a wonder to me\nthat men are so readily put off with empty verbiage. An idea cannot be\nliberal; but it may be potent, vigorous, exclusive, in order to fulfil\nits mission of being productive. Still less can a concept be liberal;\nfor a concept has quite another mission. Where, however, we must look\nfor liberality, is in the sentiments; and the sentiments are the inner\nman as he lives and moves. A man's sentiments, however, are rarely\nliberal, because they proceed directly from him personally, and from his\nimmediate relations and requirements. Further we will not write, and let\nus apply this test to what we hear every day.\n\n175\n\nIf a clever man commits a folly, it is not a small one.\n\n176\n\nThere is a poetry without figures of speech, which is a single figure of\nspeech.\n\n177\n\nI went on troubling myself about general ideas until I learnt to\nunderstand the particular achievements of the best men.\n\n178\n\nIt is only when a man knows little, that he knows anything at all. With\nknowledge grows doubt.\n\n179\n\nThe errors of a man are what make him really lovable.\n\n180\n\nThere are men who love their like and seek it; others love their\nopposite and follow after it.\n\n181\n\nIf a man has always let himself think the world as bad as the adversary\nrepresents it to be, he must have become a miserable person.\n\n182\n\nIll-favour and hatred limit the spectator to the surface, even when keen\nperception is added unto them; but when keen perception unites with\ngood-will and love, it gets at the heart of man and the world; nay, it\nmay hope to reach the highest goal of all.\n\n183\n\nRaw matter is seen by every one; the contents are found only by him who\nhas his eyes about him; and the form is a secret to the majority.\n\n184\n\nWe may learn to know the world as we please: it will always retain a\nbright and a dark side.\n\n185\n\nError is continually repeating itself in action, and we must unweariedly\nrepeat the truth in word.\n\n186\n\nAs in Rome there is, apart from the Romans, a population of statues, so\napart from this real world there is a world of illusion, almost more\npotent, in which most men live.\n\n187\n\nMankind is like the Red Sea: the staff has scarcely parted the waves\nasunder, before they flow together again.\n\n188\n\nThoughts come back; beliefs persist; facts pass by never to return.\n\n189\n\nOf all peoples, the Greeks have dreamt the dream of life the best.\n\n190\n\nWe readily bow to antiquity, but not to posterity. It is only a father\nthat does not grudge talent to his son.\n\n191\n\nThere is no virtue in subordinating oneself; but there is virtue in\ndescending, and in recognising anything as above us, which is beneath\nus.\n\n192\n\nThe whole art of living consists in giving up existence in order to\nexist.\n\n193\n\nAll our pursuits and actions are a wearying process. Well is it for him\nwho wearies not.\n\n194\n\nHope is the second soul of the unhappy.\n\n195\n\nLove is a true renovator.\n\n196\n\nMankind is not without a wish to serve; hence the chivalry of the French\nis a servitude.\n\n197\n\nIn the theatre the pleasure of what we see and hear restrains our\nreflections.\n\n198\n\nThere is no limit to the increase of experience, but theories cannot\nbecome clearer and more complete in just the same sense. The field of\nexperience is the whole universe in all directions. Theory remains shut\nup within the limits of the human faculties. Hence there is no way of\nlooking at the world, but it recurs, and the curious thing happens, that\nwith increased experience a limited theory may again come into favour.\n\nIt is always the same world which stands open to observation, which is\ncontinually being contemplated or guessed at; and it is always the same\nmen who live in the true or in the false; more at their ease in the\nlatter than in the former.\n\n199\n\nTruth is at variance with our natures, but not so error; and for a very\nsimple reason. Truth requires us to recognise ourselves as limited, but\nerror flatters us with the belief that in one way or another we are\nsubject to no bounds at all.\n\n200\n\nThat some men think they can still do what they have been able to do, is\nnatural enough; that others think they can do what they have never been\nable to do, is singular, but not rare.\n\n201\n\nAt all times it has not been the age, but individuals alone, who have\nworked for knowledge. It was the age which put Socrates to death by\npoison, the age which burnt Huss. The ages have always remained alike.\n\n202\n\nThat is true Symbolism, where the more particular represents the more\ngeneral, not as a dream or shade, but as a vivid, instantaneous\nrevelation of the Inscrutable.\n\n203\n\nEverything of an abstract or symbolic nature, as soon as it is\nchallenged by realities, ends by consuming them and itself. So credit\nconsumes both money and itself.\n\n204\n\nMastery often passes for egoism.\n\n205\n\nWith Protestants, as soon as good works cease and their merit is denied,\nsentimentality takes their place.\n\n206\n\nIf a man knows where to get good advice, it is as though he could supply\nit himself.\n\n207\n\nThe use of mottoes is to indicate something we have not attained, but\nstrive to attain. It is right to keep them always before our eyes.\n\n208\n\n'If a man cannot lift a stone himself, let him leave it, even though he\nhas some one to help him.'\n\n209\n\nDespotism promotes general self-government, because from top to bottom\nit makes the individual responsible, and so produces the highest degree\nof activity.\n\n210\n\nA man must pay dear for his errors if he wishes to get rid of them, and\neven then he is lucky.\n\n211\n\nEnthusiasm is of the greatest value, so long as we are not carried away\nby it.\n\n212\n\nSchool itself is the only true preparation for it.\n\n213\n\nError is related to truth as sleep to waking. I have observed that on\nawakening from error a man turns again to truth as with new vigour.\n\n214\n\nEvery one suffers who does not work for himself. A man works for others\nto have them share in his joy.\n\n215\n\nMen's prejudices rest upon their character for the time being and cannot\nbe overcome, as being part and parcel of themselves. Neither evidence\nnor common-sense nor reason has the slightest influence upon them.\n\n216\n\nCharacters often make a law of their failings. Men who know the world\nhave said that when prudence is only fear in disguise, its scruples\ncannot be conquered. The weak often have revolutionary sentiments; they\nthink they would be well off if they were not ruled, and fail to\nperceive that they can rule neither themselves nor others.\n\n217\n\nCommon-sense is born pure in the healthy man, is self-developed, and is\nrevealed by a resolute perception and recognition of what is necessary\nand useful. Practical men and women avail themselves of it with\nconfidence. Where it is absent, both sexes find anything necessary when\nthey desire it, and useful when it gives them pleasure.\n\n218\n\nAll men, as they attain freedom, give play to their errors. The strong\ndo too much, and the weak too little.\n\n219\n\nThe conflict of the old, the existing, the continuing, with development,\nimprovement, and reform, is always the same. Order of every kind turns\nat last to pedantry, and to get rid of the one, people destroy the\nother; and so it goes on for a while, until people perceive that order\nmust be established anew. Classicism and Romanticism; close corporations\nand freedom of trade; the maintenance of large estates and the division\nof the land,--it is always the same conflict which ends by producing a\nnew one. The best policy of those in power would be so to moderate this\nconflict as to let it right itself without the destruction of either\nelement. But this has not been granted to men, and it seems not to be\nthe will of God.\n\n220\n\nA great work limits us for the moment, because we feel it above our\npowers; and only in so far as we afterwards incorporate it with our\nculture, and make it part of our mind and heart, does it become a dear\nand worthy object.\n\n221\n\nIt is no wonder that we all more or less delight in the mediocre,\nbecause it leaves us in peace: it gives us the comfortable feeling of\nintercourse with what is like ourselves.\n\n222\n\nThere is no use in reproving vulgarity, for it never changes.\n\n223\n\nWe cannot escape a contradiction in ourselves; we must try to resolve\nit. If the contradiction comes from others, it does not affect us: it is\ntheir affair.\n\n224\n\nThere are many things in the world that are at once good and excellent,\nbut they do not come into contact.\n\n225\n\nWhich is the best government? That which teaches us to govern ourselves.\n\n226\n\nWhen men have to do with women, they get spun off like a distaff.\n\n227\n\nIt may well be that a man is at times horribly threshed by misfortunes,\npublic and private: but the reckless flail of Fate, when it beats the\nrich sheaves, crushes only the straw; and the corn feels nothing of it\nand dances merrily on the floor, careless whether its way is to the mill\nor the furrow.\n\n228\n\nHowever probable it is that a desire may be fulfilled, there is always a\ndoubt; and so when the desire is realised, it is always surprising.\n\n229\n\nAbsurdities presented with good taste rouse disgust and admiration.\n\n230\n\nOf the best society it used to be said: their speech instructs the mind,\nand their silence the feelings.\n\n231\n\nNothing is more terrible than ignorance in action.\n\n232\n\nBeauty and Genius must be kept afar if one would avoid becoming their\nslave.\n\n233\n\nWe treat the aged with consideration, as we treat children.\n\n234\n\nAn old man loses one of the greatest of human privileges: he is no more\njudged by his peers.\n\n235\n\nIn the matter of knowledge, it has happened to me as to one who rises\nearly, and in the dark impatiently awaits the dawn, and then the sun;\nbut is blinded when it appears.\n\n236\n\nGreat primeval powers, evolved in time or in eternity, work on\nunceasingly: whether to weal or to woe, is a matter of chance.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\n237\n\nPeople often say to themselves in life that they should avoid a variety\nof occupation, and, more particularly, be the less willing to enter upon\nnew work the older they grow. But it is easy to talk, easy to give\nadvice to oneself and others. To grow old is itself to enter upon a new\nbusiness; all the circumstances change, and a man must either cease\nacting altogether, or willingly and consciously take over the new r\u00f4le.\n\n238\n\nOf the Absolute in the theoretical sense, I do not venture to speak; but\nthis I maintain: that if a man recognises it in its manifestation, and\nalways keeps his gaze fixed upon it, he will experience very great\nreward.\n\n239\n\nTo live in a great idea means to treat the impossible as though it were\npossible. It is just the same with a strong character; and when an idea\nand a character meet, things arise which fill the world with wonder for\nthousands of years.\n\n240\n\nNapoleon lived wholly in a great idea, but he was unable to take\nconscious hold of it. After utterly disavowing all ideals and denying\nthem any reality, he zealously strove to realise them. His clear,\nincorruptible intellect could not, however, tolerate such a perpetual\nconflict within; and there is much value in the thoughts which he was\ncompelled, as it were, to utter, and which are expressed very peculiarly\nand with much charm.\n\n241\n\nHe considered the idea as a thing of the mind, that had, it is true, no\nreality, but still, on passing away, left a residuum--a _caput\nmortuum_--to which some reality could not be altogether refused. We may\nthink this a very perverse and material notion; but when he entertained\nhis friends with the neverending consequences of his life and actions,\nin full belief and confidence in them, he expressed himself quite\ndifferently. Then, indeed, he was ready to admit that life produces\nlife; that a fruitful act has effects to all time. He took pleasure in\nconfessing that he had given a great impulse, a new direction, to the\ncourse of the world's affairs.\n\n242\n\nIt always remains a very remarkable fact that men whose whole\npersonality is almost all idea, are so extremely shy of all phantasy. In\nthis case was Hamann, who could not bear the mention of \"things of\nanother world.\" He took occasion to express himself on this point in a\ncertain paragraph, which he wrote in fourteen different ways; and still,\napparently, he was never quite satisfied with it.\n\nTwo of these attempts have been preserved to us; a third we have\nourselves attempted, which we are induced to print here by the preceding\nobservations.\n\n243\n\nMan is placed as a real being in the midst of a real world, and endowed\nwith such organs that he can perceive and produce the real and also the\npossible.\n\nAll healthy men have the conviction of their own existence and of an\nexistence around them. However, even the brain contains a hollow spot,\nthat is to say, a place in which no object is mirrored; just as in the\neye itself there is a little spot that does not see. If a man pays\nparticular attention to this spot and is absorbed in it, he falls into a\nstate of mental sickness, has presentiments of \"things of another\nworld,\" which are, in reality, no things at all; possessing neither form\nnor limit, but alarming him like dark, empty tracts of night, and\npursuing him as something more than phantoms, if he does not tear\nhimself free from them.\n\n244\n\nTo the several perversities of the day a man should always oppose only\nthe great masses of universal history.\n\n245\n\nNo one can live much with children without finding that they always\nreact to any outward influence upon them.\n\n246\n\nWith any specially childish nature the reaction is even passionate,\nwhile its action is energetic.\n\n247\n\nThat is why children's lives are a series of refined judgments, not to\nsay prejudices; and to efface a rapid but partial perception in order to\nmake way for a more general one, time is necessary. To bear this in mind\nis one of the teacher's greatest duties.\n\n248\n\nFriendship can only be bred in practice and be maintained by practice.\nAffection, nay, love itself, is no help at all to friendship. True,\nactive, productive friendship consists in keeping equal pace in life: in\nmy friend approving my aims, while I approve his, and in thus moving\nforwards together steadfastly, however much our way of thought and life\nmay vary.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\n249\n\nIn the world people take a man at his own estimate; but he must estimate\nhimself at something. Disagreeableness is more easily tolerated than\ninsignificance.\n\n250\n\nYou can force anything on society so long as it has no sequel.\n\n251\n\nWe do not learn to know men if they come to us; we must go to them to\nfind out what they are.\n\n252\n\nThat we have many criticisms to make on those who visit us, and that, as\nsoon as they depart, we pass no very amiable judgment upon them, seems\nto me almost natural; for we have, so to speak, a right to measure them\nby our own standard. Even intelligent and fair-minded men hardly refrain\nfrom sharp censure on such occasions.\n\n253\n\nBut if, on the contrary, we have been in their homes, and have seen them\nin their surroundings and habits and the circumstances which are\nnecessary and inevitable for them; if we have seen the kind of influence\nthey exert on those around them, or how they behave, it is only\nignorance and ill-will that can find food for ridicule in what must\nappear to us in more than one sense worthy of respect.\n\n254\n\nWhat we call conduct and good manners obtains for us that which\notherwise is to be obtained only by force, or not even by force.\n\n255\n\nWomen's society is the element of good manners.\n\n256\n\nHow can the character, the peculiar nature of a man, be compatible with\ngood manners?\n\n257\n\nIt is through his good manners that a man's peculiar nature should be\nmade all the more conspicuous. Every one likes distinction, but it\nshould not be disagreeable.\n\n258\n\nThe most privileged position, in life as in society, is that of an\neducated soldier. Rough warriors, at any rate, remain true to their\ncharacter, and as great strength is usually the cover for good nature,\nwe get on with them at need.\n\n259\n\nNo one is more troublesome than an awkward civilian. As his business is\nnot with anything brutal or coarse, he might be expected to show\ndelicacy of feeling.\n\n260\n\nWhen we live with people who have a delicate sense of what is fitting,\nwe get quite anxious about them if anything happens to disturb this\nsense.\n\n261\n\nNo one would come into a room with spectacles on his nose, if he knew\nthat women at once lose any inclination to look at or talk to him.\n\n262\n\nA familiar in the place of a respectful demeanour is always ridiculous.\n\n263\n\nThere is no outward sign of politeness that will be found to lack some\ndeep moral foundation. The right kind of education would be that which\nconveyed the sign and the foundation at the same time.\n\n264\n\nA man's manners are the mirror in which he shows his portrait.\n\n263\n\nThere is a politeness of the heart, and it is allied to love. It\nproduces the most agreeable politeness of outward demeanour.\n\n266\n\nVoluntary dependence is the best state, and how should that be possible\nwithout love?\n\n267\n\nWe are never further from our wishes than when we fancy we possess the\nobject of them.\n\n268\n\nNo one is more of a slave than he who thinks himself free without being\nso.\n\n269\n\nA man has only to declare himself free to feel at the same moment that\nhe is limited. Should he venture to declare himself limited, he feels\nhimself free.\n\n270\n\nAgainst the great superiority of another there is no remedy but love.\n\n271\n\nIt is a terrible thing for an eminent man to be gloried in by fools.\n\n272\n\nIt is said that no man is a hero to his valet. That is only because a\nhero can be recognised only by a hero. The valet will probably know how\nto appreciate his like,--his fellow-valet.\n\n273\n\nThere is no greater consolation for mediocrity than that the genius is\nnot immortal.\n\n274\n\nThe greatest men are linked to their age by some weak point.\n\n275\n\nWe generally take men to be more dangerous than they are.\n\n276\n\nFools and wise folk are alike harmless. It is the half-wise, and the\nhalf-foolish, who are the most dangerous.\n\n277\n\nTo see a difficult thing lightly handled gives us the impression of the\nimpossible.\n\n278\n\nDifficulties increase the nearer we come to our aim.\n\n279\n\nSowing is not so painful as reaping.\n\n280\n\nWe are fond of looking to the future, because our secret wishes make us\napt to turn in our favour the uncertainties which move about in it\nhither and thither.\n\n281\n\nIt is not easy to be in any great assembly without thinking that the\nchance which brings so many people together will also make us meet our\nfriends.\n\n282\n\nA man may live never so retired a life but he becomes a debtor or a\ncreditor before he is aware of it.\n\n283\n\nIf anyone meets us who owes us a debt of gratitude, it immediately\ncrosses our mind. How often can we meet some one to whom we owe\ngratitude, without thinking of it!\n\n284\n\nTo communicate oneself is Nature; to receive a communication as it is\ngiven is Culture.\n\n285\n\nNo one would speak much in society if he were aware how often we\nmisunderstand others.\n\n286\n\nIt is only because we have not understood a thing that we cannot repeat\nit without alteration.\n\n287\n\nTo make a long speech in the presence of others without flattering your\naudience, is to rouse dislike.\n\n288\n\nEvery word that we utter rouses its contrary.\n\n289\n\nContradiction and flattery make, both of them, bad conversation.\n\n290\n\nThe pleasantest society is that in which there exists a genial deference\namongst the members one towards another.\n\n291\n\nBy nothing do men show their character more than by the things they\nlaugh at.\n\n292\n\nThe ridiculous springs from a moral contrast innocently presented to the\nsenses.\n\n293\n\nThe sensual man often laughs when there is nothing to laugh at. Whatever\nit is that moves him, he shows that he is pleased with himself.\n\n294\n\nAn intelligent man finds almost everything ridiculous, a wise man hardly\nanything.\n\n295\n\nA man well on in years was reproved for still troubling himself about\nyoung women. 'It is the only means,' he replied, 'of regaining one's\nyouth; and that is something every one wishes to do.'\n\n296\n\nA man does not mind being blamed for his faults, and being punished for\nthem, and he patiently suffers much for the sake of them; but he becomes\nimpatient if he is required to give them up.\n\n297\n\nCertain faults are necessary to the individual if he is to exist. We\nshould not like old friends to give up certain peculiarities.\n\n298\n\nIt is said of a man that he will soon die, when he acts in any way\nunlike himself.\n\n299\n\nWhat kind of faults in ourselves should we retain, nay, even cultivate?\nThose which rather flatter other people than offend them.\n\n300\n\nThe passions are good or bad qualities, only intensified.\n\n301\n\nOur passions are, in truth, like the phoenix. When the old one burns\naway, the new one rises out of its ashes at once.\n\n302\n\nGreat passions are hopeless diseases. That which could cure them is the\nfirst thing to make them really dangerous.\n\n303\n\nPassion is enhanced and tempered by avowal. In nothing, perhaps, is the\nmiddle course more desirable than in confidence and reticence towards\nthose we love.\n\n304\n\nTo sit in judgment on the departed is never likely to be equitable. We\nall suffer from life; who except God can call us to account? Let not\ntheir faults and sufferings, but what they have accomplished and done,\noccupy the survivors.\n\n305\n\nIt is failings that show human nature, and merits that distinguish the\nindividual; faults and misfortunes we all have in common; virtues belong\nto each one separately.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\n306\n\nThe secret places in the way of life may not and cannot be revealed:\nthere are rocks of offence on which every traveller must stumble. But\nthe poet points to where they are.\n\n307\n\nIt would not be worth while to see seventy years if all the wisdom of\nthis world were foolishness with God.\n\n308\n\nThe true is Godlike: we do not see it itself; we must guess at it\nthrough its manifestations.\n\n309\n\nThe real scholar learns how to evolve the unknown from the known, and\ndraws near the master.\n\n310\n\nIn the smithy the iron is softened by blowing up the fire, and taking\nthe dross from the bar. As soon as it is purified, it is beaten and\npressed, and becomes firm again by the addition of fresh water. The same\nthing happens to a man at the hands of his teacher.\n\n311\n\nWhat belongs to a man, he cannot get rid of, even though he throws it\naway.\n\n312\n\nOf true religions there are only two: one of them recognises and\nworships the Holy that without form or shape dwells in and around us;\nand the other recognises and worships it in its fairest form. Everything\nthat lies between these two is idolatry.\n\n313\n\nIt is undeniable that in the Reformation the human mind tried to free\nitself; and the renaissance of Greek and Roman antiquity brought about\nthe wish and longing for a freer, more seemly, and elegant life. The\nmovement was favoured in no small degree by the fact that men's hearts\naimed at returning to a certain simple state of nature, while the\nimagination sought to concentrate itself.\n\n314\n\nThe Saints were all at once driven from heaven; and senses, thought, and\nheart were turned from a divine mother with a tender child, to the grown\nman doing good and suffering evil, who was later transfigured into a\nbeing half-divine in its nature, and then recognised and honoured as God\nhimself. He stood against a background where the Creator had opened out\nthe universe; a spiritual influence went out from him; his sufferings\nwere adopted as an example, and his transfiguration was the pledge of\neverlastingness.\n\n315\n\nAs a coal is revived by incense, so prayer revives the hopes of the\nheart.\n\n316\n\nFrom a strict point of view we must have a reformation of ourselves\nevery day, and protest against others, even though it be in no religious\nsense.\n\n317\n\nIt should be our earnest endeavour to use words coinciding as closely as\npossible with what we feel, see, think, experience, imagine, and reason.\nIt is an endeavour which we cannot evade, and which is daily to be\nrenewed.\n\nLet every man examine himself, and he will find this a much harder task\nthan he might suppose; for, unhappily, a man usually takes words as mere\nmake-shifts; his knowledge and his thought are in most cases better\nthan his method of expression.\n\nFalse, irrelevant, and futile ideas may arise in ourselves and others,\nor find their way into us from without. Let us persist in the effort to\nremove them as far as we can, by plain and honest purpose.\n\n318\n\nAs we grow older, the ordeals grow greater.\n\n319\n\nWhere I cannot be moral, my power is gone.\n\n320\n\nA man is not deceived by others, he deceives himself.\n\n321\n\nLaws are all made by old people and by men. Youths and women want the\nexceptions, old people the rules.\n\n322\n\nIt is not the intelligent man who rules, but intelligence; not the wise\nman, but wisdom.\n\n323\n\nTo praise a man is to put oneself on his level.\n\n324\n\nIt is not enough to know, we must also apply; it is not enough to will,\nwe must also do.\n\n325\n\nChinese, Indian, and Egyptian antiquities are never more than\ncuriosities; it is well to make acquaintance with them; but in point of\nmoral and \u00e6sthetic culture they can help us little.\n\n326\n\nThe German runs no greater danger than to advance with and by the\nexample of his neighbours. There is perhaps no nation that is fitter for\nthe process of self-development; so that it has proved of the greatest\nadvantage to Germany to have obtained the notice of the world so late.\n\n327\n\nEven men of insight do not see that they try to explain things which lie\nat the foundation of our experience, and in which we must simply\nacquiesce.\n\nYet still the attempt may have its advantage, as otherwise we should\nbreak off our researches too soon.\n\n328\n\nFrom this time forward, if a man does not apply himself to some art or\nhandiwork, he will be in a bad way. In the rapid changes of the world,\nknowledge is no longer a furtherance; by the time a man has taken note\nof everything, he has lost himself.\n\n329\n\nBesides, in these days the world forces universal culture upon us, and\nso we need not trouble ourselves further about it; we must appropriate\nsome particular culture.\n\n330\n\nThe greatest difficulties lie where we do not look for them.\n\n331\n\nOur interest in public events is mostly the merest philistinism.\n\n332\n\nNothing is more highly to be prized than the value of each day.\n\n333\n\n_Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt!_ This is so strange an utterance,\nthat it could only have come from one who fancied himself autochthonous.\nThe man who looks upon it as an honour to be descended from wise\nancestors, will allow them at least as much common-sense as he allows\nhimself.\n\n334\n\nStrictly speaking, everything depends upon a man's intentions; where\nthese exist, thoughts appear; and as the intentions are, so are the\nthoughts.\n\n335\n\nIf a man lives long in a high position, he does not, it is true,\nexperience all that a man can experience; but he experiences things like\nthem, and perhaps some things that have no parallel elsewhere.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\n336\n\nThe first and last thing that is required of genius is love of truth.\n\n337\n\nTo be and remain true to oneself and others, is to possess the noblest\nattribute of the greatest talents.\n\n338\n\nGreat talents are the best means of conciliation.\n\n339\n\nThe action of genius is in a way ubiquitous: towards general truths\nbefore experience, and towards particular truths after it.\n\n340\n\nAn active scepticism is one which constantly aims at overcoming itself,\nand arriving by means of regulated experience at a kind of conditioned\ncertainty.\n\n341\n\nThe general nature of the sceptical mind is its tendency to inquire\nwhether any particular predicate really attaches to any particular\nobject; and the purpose of the inquiry is safely to apply in practice\nwhat has thus been discovered and proved.\n\n342\n\nThe mind endowed with active powers and keeping with a practical object\nto the task that lies nearest, is the worthiest there is on earth.\n\n343\n\nPerfection is the measure of heaven, and the wish to be perfect the\nmeasure of man.\n\n344\n\nNot only what is born with him, but also what he acquires, makes the\nman.\n\n345\n\nA man is well equipped for all the real necessities of life if he trusts\nhis senses, and so cultivates them that they remain worthy of being\ntrusted.\n\n346\n\nThe senses do not deceive; it is the judgment that deceives.\n\n347\n\nThe lower animal is taught by its organs; man teaches his organs, and\ndominates them.\n\n348\n\nAll direct invitation to live up to ideals is of doubtful value,\nparticularly if addressed to women. Whatever the reason of it may be, a\nman of any importance collects round him a seraglio of a more or less\nreligious, moral, and \u00e6sthetic character.\n\n349\n\nWhen a great idea enters the world as a Gospel, it becomes an offence to\nthe multitude, which stagnates in pedantry; and to those who have much\nlearning but little depth, it is folly.\n\n350\n\nEvery idea appears at first as a strange visitor, and when it begins to\nbe realised, it is hardly distinguishable from phantasy and phantastery.\n\n351\n\nThis it is that has been called, in a good and in a bad sense, ideology;\nand this is why the ideologist is so repugnant to the hard-working,\npractical man of every day.\n\n352\n\nYou may recognise the utility of an idea, and yet not quite understand\nhow to make a perfect use of it.\n\n353\n\n_Credo Deum!_ That is a fine, a worthy thing to say; but to recognise\nGod where and as he reveals himself, is the only true bliss on earth.\n\n354\n\nKepler said: 'My wish is that I may perceive the God whom I find\neverywhere in the external world, in like manner also within and inside\nme.' The good man was not aware that in that very moment the divine in\nhim stood in the closest connection with the divine in the Universe.\n\n355\n\nWhat is predestination? It is this: God is mightier and wiser than we\nare, and so he does with us as he pleases.\n\n356\n\nToleration should, strictly speaking, be only a passing mood; it ought\nto lead to acknowledgment and appreciation. To tolerate a person is to\naffront him.\n\n357\n\nFaith, Love, and Hope once felt, in a quiet sociable hour, a plastic\nimpulse in their nature; they worked together and created a lovely\nimage, a Pandora in the higher sense, Patience.\n\n358\n\n'I stumbled over the roots of the tree which I planted.' It must have\nbeen an old forester who said that.\n\n359\n\nA leaf blown by the wind often looks like a bird.\n\n360\n\nDoes the sparrow know how the stork feels?\n\n361\n\nLamps make oil-spots, and candles want snuffing; it is only the light of\nheaven that shines pure and leaves no stain.\n\n362\n\nIf you miss the first button-hole, you will not succeed in buttoning up\nyour coat.\n\n363\n\nA burnt child dreads the fire; an old man who has often been singed is\nafraid of warming himself.\n\n364\n\nIt is not worth while to do anything for the world that we have with us,\nas the existing order may in a moment pass away. It is for the past and\nthe future that we must work: for the past, to acknowledge its merits;\nfor the future, to try to increase its value.\n\n365\n\nLet every man ask himself with which of his faculties he can and will\nsomehow influence his age.\n\n366\n\nLet no one think that people have waited for him as for the Saviour.\n\n367\n\nCharacter in matters great and small consists in a man steadily pursuing\nthe things of which he feels himself capable.\n\n368\n\nThe man who wants to be active and has to be so, need only think of what\nis fitting at the moment, and he will make his way without difficulty.\nThis is where women have the advantage, if they understand it.\n\n369\n\nThe moment is a kind of public; a man must deceive it into believing\nthat he is doing something; then it leaves us alone to go our way in\nsecret; whereat its grandchildren cannot fail to be astonished.\n\n370\n\nThere are men who put their knowledge in the place of insight.\n\n371\n\nIn some states, as a consequence of the violent movements experienced in\nalmost all directions, there has come about a certain overpressure in\nthe system of education, the harm of which will be more generally felt\nhereafter; though even now it is perfectly well recognised by capable\nand honest authorities. Capable men live in a sort of despair over the\nfact that they are bound by the rules of their office to teach and\ncommunicate things which they look upon as useless and hurtful.\n\n372\n\nThere is no sadder sight than the direct striving after the\nunconditioned in this thoroughly conditioned world.\n\n373\n\nBefore the Revolution it was all _effort_; afterwards it all changed to\n_demand_.\n\n374\n\nCan a nation become ripe? That is a strange question. I would answer,\nYes! if all the men could be born thirty years of age. But as youth will\nalways be too forward and old age too backward, the really mature man is\nalways hemmed in between them, and has to resort to strange devices to\nmake his way through.\n\n375\n\nIt does not look well for monarchs to speak through the press, for power\nshould act and not talk. The projects of the liberal party always bear\nbeing read: the man who is overpowered may at least express his views in\nspeech, because he cannot act. When Mazarin was shown some satirical\nsongs on a new tax, 'Let them sing,' said he, 'as long as they pay.'\n\n376\n\nVanity is a desire of personal glory, the wish to be appreciated,\nhonoured, and run after, not because of one's personal qualities,\nmerits, and achievements, but because of one's individual existence. At\nbest, therefore, it is a frivolous beauty whom it befits.\n\n377\n\nThe most important matters of feeling as of reason, of experience as of\nreflection, should be treated of only by word of mouth. The spoken word\nat once dies if it is not kept alive by some other word following on it\nand suited to the hearer. Observe what happens in social converse. If\nthe word is not dead when it reaches the hearer, he murders it at once\nby a contradiction, a stipulation, a condition, a digression, an\ninterruption, and all the thousand tricks of conversation. With the\nwritten word the case is still worse. No one cares to read anything to\nwhich he is not already to some extent accustomed: he demands the known\nand the familiar under an altered form. Still the written word has this\nadvantage, that it lasts and can await the time when it is allowed to\ntake effect.\n\n378\n\nBoth what is reasonable and what is unreasonable have to undergo the\nlike contradiction.\n\n379\n\nDialectic is the culture of the spirit of contradiction, which is given\nto man that he may learn to perceive the differences between things.\n\n380\n\nWith those who are really of like disposition with himself a man cannot\nlong be at variance; he will always come to an agreement again. With\nthose who are really of adverse disposition, he may in vain try to\npreserve harmony; he will always come to a separation again.\n\n381\n\nOpponents fancy they refute us when they repeat their own opinion and\npay no attention to ours.\n\n382\n\nPeople who contradict and dispute should now and then remember that not\nevery mode of speech is intelligible to every one.\n\n383\n\nEvery man hears only what he understands.\n\n384\n\nI am quite prepared to find that many a reader will disagree with me;\nbut when he has a thing before him in black and white, he must let it\nstand. Another reader may perhaps take up the very same copy and agree\nwith me.\n\n385\n\nThe truest liberality is appreciation.\n\n386\n\nFor the strenuous man the difficulty is to recognise the merits of elder\ncontemporaries and not let himself be hindered by their defects.\n\n387\n\nSome men think about the defects of their friends, and there is nothing\nto be gained by it. I have always paid attention to the merits of my\nenemies, and found it an advantage.\n\n388\n\nThere are many men who fancy they understand whatever they experience.\n\n389\n\nThe public must be treated like women: they must be told absolutely\nnothing but what they like to hear.\n\n390\n\nEvery age of man has a certain philosophy answering to it. The child\ncomes out as a realist: he finds himself as convinced that pears and\napples exist as that he himself exists. The youth in a storm of inner\npassion is forced to turn his gaze within, and feel in advance what he\nis going to be: he is changed into an idealist. But the man has every\nreason to become a sceptic: he does well to doubt whether the means he\nhas chosen to his end are the right ones. Before and during action he\nhas every reason for keeping his understanding mobile, that he may not\nafterwards have to grieve over a false choice. Yet when he grows old he\nwill always confess himself a mystic: he sees that so much seems to\ndepend on chance; that folly succeeds and wisdom fails; that good and\nevil fortune are brought unexpectedly to the same level; so it is and so\nit has been, and old age acquiesces in that which is and was and will\nbe.\n\n391\n\nWhen a man grows old he must consciously remain at a certain stage.\n\n392\n\nIt does not become an old man to run after the fashion, either in\nthought or in dress. But he must know where he is, and what the others\nare aiming at.\n\nWhat is called fashion is the tradition of the moment. All tradition\ncarries with it a certain necessity for people to put themselves on a\nlevel with it.\n\n393\n\nWe have long been busy with the critique of reason. I should like to see\na critique of common-sense. It would be a real benefit to mankind if we\ncould convincingly prove to the ordinary intelligence how far it can go;\nand that is just as much as it fully requires for life on this earth.\n\n394\n\nThe thinker makes a great mistake when he asks after cause and effect:\nthey both together make up the indivisible phenomenon.\n\n395\n\nAll practical men try to bring the world under their hands; all\nthinkers, under their heads. How far each succeeds, they may both see\nfor themselves.\n\n396\n\nShall we say that a man thinks only when he cannot think out that of\nwhich he is thinking?\n\n397\n\nWhat is invention or discovery? It is the conclusion of what we were\nlooking for.\n\n398\n\nIt is with history as with nature and with everything of any depth, it\nmay be past, present, or future: the further we seriously pursue it, the\nmore difficult are the problems that appear. The man who is not afraid\nof them, but attacks them bravely, has a feeling of higher culture and\ngreater ease the further he progresses.\n\n399\n\nEvery phenomenon is within our reach if we treat it as an inclined\nplane, which is of easy ascent, though the thick end of the wedge may be\nsteep and inaccessible.\n\n400\n\nIf a man would enter upon some course of knowledge, he must either be\ndeceived or deceive himself, unless external necessity irresistibly\ndetermines him. Who would become a physician if, at one and the same\ntime, he saw before him all the horrible sights that await him?\n\n401\n\nHow many years must a man do nothing before he can at all know what is\nto be done and how to do it!\n\n402\n\nDuty: where a man loves what he commands himself to do.\n\n\n\n\nLITERATURE AND ART\n\n\n403\n\nWhen Madame Roland was on the scaffold, she asked for pen and paper, to\nnote the peculiar thoughts that hovered about her on the last journey.\nIt is a pity they were refused, for in a tranquil mind thoughts rise up\nat the close of life hitherto unthinkable; like blessed inward voices,\nalighting in glory on the summits of the past.\n\n404\n\nLiterature is a fragment of fragments: the least of what happened and\nwas spoken, has been written; and of the things that have been written,\nvery few have been preserved.\n\n405\n\nAnd yet, with all the fragmentary nature of literature, we find thousand\nfold repetition; which shows how limited is man's mind and destiny.\n\n406\n\nExcellent work is unfathomable, approach it as you will.\n\n407\n\nIt is not language in itself which is correct or forcible or elegant,\nbut the mind that is embodied in it; and so it is not for a man to\ndetermine whether he will give his calculations or speeches or poems the\ndesired qualities: the question is whether Nature has given him the\nintellectual and moral qualities which fit him for the work,--the\nintellectual power of observation and insight, the moral power of\nrepelling the evil spirits that might hinder him from paying respect to\ntruth.\n\n408\n\nThe appeal to posterity springs from the pure, strong feeling of the\nexistence of something imperishable; something that, even though it be\nnot at once recognised, will in the end be gratified by finding the\nminority turn into a majority.\n\n409\n\nWhen a new literature succeeds, it obscures the effect of an earlier\none, and its own effect predominates; so that it is well, from time to\ntime, to look back. What is original in us is best preserved and\nquickened if we do not lose sight of those who have gone before us.\n\n410\n\nThe most original authors of modern times are so, not because they\nproduce what is new, but only because they are able to say things the\nlike of which seem never to have been said before.\n\n411\n\nThus the best sign of originality lies in taking up a subject and then\ndeveloping it so fully as to make every one confess that he would hardly\nhave found so much in it.\n\n412\n\nThere are many thoughts that come only from general culture, like buds\nfrom green branches. When roses bloom, you see them blooming everywhere.\n\n413\n\nLucidity is a due distribution of light and shade.' _Hamann_.\n\n414\n\nA man who has no acquaintance with foreign languages knows nothing of\nhis own.\n\n415\n\nWe must remember that there are many men who, without being productive,\nare anxious to say something important, and the results are most\ncurious.\n\n416\n\nDeep and earnest thinkers are in a difficult position with regard to the\npublic.\n\n417\n\nSome books seem to have been written, not to teach us anything, but to\nlet us know that the author has known something.\n\n418\n\nAn author can show no greater respect for his public than by never\nbringing it what it expects, but what he himself thinks right and proper\nin that stage of his own and others' culture in which for the time he\nfinds himself.\n\n419\n\nThe so-called Nature-poets are men of active talent, with a fresh\nstimulus and reaction from an over-cultured, stagnant, mannered epoch of\nart. They cannot avoid commonplace.\n\n420\n\nProductions are now possible which, without being bad, have no value.\nThey have no value, because they contain nothing; and they are not bad,\nbecause a general form of good-workmanship is present to the author's\nmind.\n\n421\n\nAll lyrical work must, as a whole, be perfectly intelligible, but in\nsome particulars a little unintelligible.\n\n422\n\nA romance is a subjective epic in which the author begs leave to treat\nthe world after his own ideas. The only question is, whether he has any\nideas; the rest will follow of itself.\n\n423\n\nSubjective or so-called sentimental poetry has now been admitted to an\nequality with objective and descriptive. This was inevitable; because\notherwise the whole of modern poetry would have to be discarded. It is\nnow obvious that when men of truly poetical genius appear, they will\ndescribe more of the particular feelings of the inner life than of the\ngeneral facts of the great life of the world. This has already taken\nplace to such a degree that we have a poetry without figures of speech,\nwhich can by no means be refused all praise.\n\n424\n\nSuperstition is the poetry of life, and so it does not hurt the poet to\nbe superstitious.\n\n425\n\nThat glorious hymn, _Veni Creator Spiritus_, is really an appeal to\ngenius. That is why it speaks so powerfully to men of intellect and\npower.\n\n426\n\nTranslators are like busy match-makers: they sing the praises of some\nhalf-veiled beauty, and extol her charms, and arouse an irresistible\nlonging for the original.\n\n427\n\nA Spinoza in poetry becomes a Machiavelli in philosophy.\n\n428\n\nAgainst the three unities there is nothing to be said, if the subject is\nvery simple; but there are times when thrice three unities, skilfully\ninterwoven, produce a very pleasant effect.\n\n429\n\nThe sentimentality of the English is humorous and tender; of the French,\npopular and pathetic; of the Germans, na\u00efve and realistic.\n\n430\n\nMysticism is the scholastic of the heart, the dialectic of the feelings.\n\n431\n\nIf a man sets out to reproach an author with obscurity, he should first\nof all examine his own mind, to see if he is himself all clearness\nwithin. Twilight makes even plain writing illegible.\n\n432\n\nIt is with books as with new acquaintances. At first we are highly\ndelighted, if we find a general agreement,--if we are pleasantly moved\non any of the chief sides of our existence. With a closer acquaintance\ndifferences come to light; and then reasonable conduct mainly consists\nin not shrinking back at once, as may happen in youth, but in keeping\nfirm hold of the things in which we agree, and being quite clear about\nthe things in which we differ, without on that account desiring any\nunion.\n\n433\n\nIn psychological reflection the greatest difficulty is this: that inner\nand outer must always be viewed in parallel lines, or, rather,\ninterwoven. It is a continual systole and diastole, an inspiration and\nan expiration of the living soul. If this cannot be put into words, it\nshould be carefully marked and noted.\n\n434\n\nMy relations with Schiller rested on the decided tendency of both of us\ntowards a single aim, and our common activity rested on the diversity of\nthe means by which we endeavoured to attain that aim.\n\n435\n\nOnce when a slight difference was mentioned between us, of which I was\nreminded by a passage in a letter of his, I made the following\nreflections: There is a great difference between a poet seeking the\nparticular for the universal, and seeing the universal in the\nparticular. The one gives rise to Allegory, where the particular serves\nonly as instance or example of the general; but the other is the true\nnature of Poetry, namely, the expression of the particular without any\nthought of, or reference to, the general. If a man grasps the particular\nvividly, he also grasps the general, without being aware of it at the\ntime; or he may make the discovery long afterwards.\n\n436\n\nThere may be eclectic philosophers, but not an eclectic philosophy.\n\n437\n\nBut every one is an eclectic who, out of the things that surround and\ntake place about him, appropriates what is suited to his nature; and\nthis is what is meant by culture and progress, in matters of theory or\npractice.\n\n438\n\nVarious maxims of the ancients, which we are wont to repeat again and\nagain, had a meaning quite different from that which is apt to attach to\nthem in later times.\n\n439\n\nThe saying that no one who is unacquainted with or a stranger to\ngeometry should enter the philosopher's school, does not mean that a man\nmust become a mathematician to attain the wisdom of the world.\n\n440\n\nGeometry is here taken in its primary elements, such as are contained in\nEuclid and laid before every beginner; and then it is the most perfect\nprop\u00e6deutic and introduction to philosophy.\n\n441\n\nWhen a boy begins to understand that an invisible point must always come\nbefore a visible one, and that the shortest way between two points is a\nstraight line, before he can draw it on his paper with a pencil, he\nexperiences a certain pride and pleasure. And he is not wrong; for he\nhas the source of all thought opened to him; idea and reality, _potentia\net actu_, are become clear; the philosopher has no new discovery to\nbring him; as a mathematician, he has found the basis of all thought for\nhimself.\n\n442\n\nAnd if we turn to that significant utterance, _Know thyself_, we must\nnot explain it in an ascetic sense. It is in nowise the self-knowledge\nof our modern hypochondrists, humorists, and self-tormentors. It simply\nmeans: pay some attention to yourself; take note of yourself; so that\nyou may know how you come to stand towards those like you and towards\nthe world. This involves no psychological torture; every capable man\nknows and feels what it means. It is a piece of good advice which every\none will find of the greatest advantage in practice.\n\n443\n\nLet us remember how great the ancients were; and especially how the\nSocratic school holds up to us the source and standard of all life and\naction, and bids us not indulge in empty speculation, but live and do.\n\n444\n\nSo long as our scholastic education takes us back to antiquity and\nfurthers the study of the Greek and Latin languages, we may congratulate\nourselves that these studies, so necessary for the higher culture, will\nnever disappear.\n\n445\n\nIf we set our gaze on antiquity and earnestly study it, in the desire to\nform ourselves thereon, we get the feeling as if it were only then that\nwe really became men.\n\n446\n\nThe pedagogue, in trying to write and speak Latin, has a higher and\ngrander idea of himself than would be permissible in ordinary life.\n\n447\n\nIn the presence of antiquity, the mind that is susceptible to poetry and\nart feels itself placed in the most pleasing ideal state of nature; and\neven to this day the Homeric hymns have the power of freeing us, at any\nrate, for moments, from the frightful burden which the tradition of\nseveral thousand years has rolled upon us.\n\n448\n\nThere is no such thing as patriotic art and patriotic science. Both art\nand science belong, like all things great and good, to the whole world,\nand can be furthered only by a free and general interchange of ideas\namong contemporaries, with continual reference to the heritage of the\npast as it is known to us.\n\n449\n\nPoetical talent is given to peasant as well as to knight; all that is\nrequired is that each shall grasp his position and treat it worthily.\n\n450\n\nAn historic sense means a sense so cultured that, in valuing the deserts\nand merits of its own time, it takes account also of the past.\n\n451\n\nThe best that history gives us is the enthusiasm it arouses.\n\n452\n\nThe historian's duty is twofold: first towards himself, then towards his\nreaders. As regards himself, he must carefully examine into the things\nthat could have happened; and, for the reader's sake, he must determine\nwhat actually did happen. His action towards himself is a matter between\nhimself and his colleagues; but the public must not see into the secret\nthat there is little in history which can be said to be positively\ndetermined.\n\n453\n\nThe historian's duty is to separate the true from the false, the certain\nfrom the uncertain, and the doubtful from that which cannot be accepted.\n\n454\n\nIt is seldom that any one of great age becomes historical to himself,\nand finds his contemporaries become historical to him, so that he\nneither cares nor is able to argue with any one.\n\n455\n\nOn a closer examination of the matter, it will be found that the\nhistorian does not easily grasp history as something historical. In\nwhatever age he may live, the historian always writes as though he\nhimself had been present at the time of which he treats, instead of\nsimply narrating the facts and movements of that time. Even the mere\nchronicler only points more or less to his own limitations, or the\npeculiarities of his town or monastery or age.\n\n456\n\nWe really learn only from those books which we cannot criticise. The\nauthor of a book which we could criticise would have to learn from us.\n\n457\n\nThat is the reason why the Bible will never lose its power; because, as\nlong as the world lasts, no one can stand up and say: I grasp it as a\nwhole and understand all the parts of it. But we say humbly: as a whole\nit is worthy of respect, and in all its parts it is applicable.\n\n458\n\nThere is and will be much discussion as to the use and harm of\ncirculating the Bible. One thing is clear to me: mischief will result,\nas heretofore, by using it phantastically as a system of dogma; benefit,\nas heretofore, by a loving acceptance of its teachings.\n\n459\n\nI am convinced that the Bible will always be more beautiful the more it\nis understood; the more, that is, we see and observe that every word\nwhich we take in a general sense and apply specially to ourselves, had,\nunder certain circumstances of time and place, a peculiar, special, and\ndirectly individual reference.\n\n460\n\nThe incurable evil of religious controversy is that while one party\nwants to connect the highest interest of humanity with fables and\nphrases, the other tries to rest it on things that satisfy no one.\n\n461\n\nIf one has not read the newspapers for some months and then reads them\nall together, one sees, as one never saw before, how much time is wasted\nwith this kind of literature.\n\n462\n\nThe classical is health; and the romantic, disease.\n\n463\n\nOvid remained classical even in exile: it is not in himself that he sees\nmisfortune, but in his banishment from the metropolis of the world.\n\n464\n\nThe romantic is already fallen into its own abysm. It is hard to imagine\nanything more degraded than the worst of the new productions.\n\n465\n\nBodies which rot while they are still alive, and are edified by the\ndetailed contemplation of their own decay; dead men who remain in the\nworld for the ruin of others, and feed their death on the living,--to\nthis have come our makers of literature.\n\nWhen the same thing happened in antiquity, it was only as a strange\ntoken of some rare disease; but with the moderns the disease has become\nendemic and epidemic.\n\n466\n\nLiterature decays only as men become more and more corrupt.\n\n467\n\nWhat a day it is when we must envy the men in their graves!\n\n468\n\nThe things that are true, good, excellent, are simple and always alike,\nwhatever their appearance may be. But the error that we blame is\nextremely manifold and varying; it is in conflict not only with the good\nand the true, but also with itself; it is self-contradictory. Thus it is\nthat the words of blame in our literature must necessarily outnumber the\nwords of praise.\n\n469\n\nThe Greeks, whose poetry and rhetoric was of a simple and positive\ncharacter, express approval more often than disapproval. With the Latin\nwriters it is the contrary; and the more poetry and the arts of speech\ndecay, the more will blame swell and praise shrink.\n\n470\n\n'What are tragedies but the versified passions of people who make Heaven\nknows what out of the external world?'\n\n471\n\nThere are certain empirical enthusiasts who are quite right in showing\ntheir enthusiasm over new productions that are good; but they are as\necstatic as if there were no other good work in the world at all.\n\n472\n\nIn _Sakontala_ the poet appears in his highest function. As the\nrepresentative of the most natural condition of things, the finest mode\nof life, the purest moral endeavour, the worthiest majesty, and the most\nsolemn worship, he ventures on common and ridiculous contrasts.\n\n473\n\nShakespeare's _Henry IV_. If everything were lost that has ever been\npreserved to us of this kind of writing, the arts of poetry and rhetoric\ncould be completely restored out of this one play.\n\n474\n\nShakespeare's finest dramas are wanting here and there in facility: they\nare something more than they should be, and for that very reason\nindicate the great poet.\n\n475\n\nShakespeare is dangerous reading for budding talents: he compels them to\nreproduce him, and they fancy they are producing themselves.\n\n476\n\nYorick Sterne was the finest spirit that ever worked. To read him is to\nattain a fine feeling of freedom; his humour is inimitable, and it is\nnot every kind of humour that frees the soul.\n\n477\n\nThe peculiar value of so-called popular ballads is that their motives\nare drawn direct from nature. This, however, is an advantage of which\nthe poet of culture could also avail himself, if he knew how to do it.\n\n478\n\nBut in popular ballads there is always this advantage, that in the art\nof saying things shortly uneducated men are always better skilled than\nthose who are in the strict sense of the word educated.\n\n479\n\n_Gem\u00fcth = Heart_. The translator must proceed until he reaches the\nuntranslatable; and then only will he have an idea of the foreign nation\nand the foreign tongue.\n\n480\n\nWhen we say of a landscape that it has a romantic character, it is the\nsecret feeling of the sublime taking the form of the past, or, what is\nthe same thing, of solitude, absence, or seclusion.\n\n481\n\nThe Beautiful is a manifestation of secret laws of nature, which,\nwithout its presence, would never have been revealed.\n\n482\n\nIt is said: Artist, study nature! But it is no trifle to develop the\nnoble out of the commonplace, or beauty out of uniformity.\n\n483\n\nWhen Nature begins to reveal her open secret to a man, he feels an\nirresistible longing for her worthiest interpreter, Art.\n\n484\n\nFor all other Arts we must make some allowance; but to Greek Art alone\nwe are always debtors.\n\n485\n\nThere is no surer way of evading the world than by Art; and no surer way\nof uniting with it than by Art.\n\n486\n\nEven in the moments of highest happiness and deepest misery we need the\nArtist.\n\n487\n\nFalse tendencies of the senses are a kind of desire after realism,\nalways better than that false tendency which expresses itself as\nidealistic longing.\n\n488\n\nThe dignity of Art appears perhaps most conspicuously in Music; for in\nMusic there is no material to be deducted. It is wholly form and\nintrinsic value, and it raises and ennobles all that it expresses.\n\n489\n\nIt is only by Art, and especially by Poetry, that the imagination is\nregulated. Nothing is more frightful than imagination without taste.\n\n490\n\nIf we were to despise Art on the ground that it is an imitation of\nNature, it might be answered that Nature also imitates much else;\nfurther, that Art does not exactly imitate that which can be seen by the\neyes, but goes back to that element of reason of which Nature consists\nand according to which Nature acts.\n\n491\n\nFurther, the Arts also produce much out of themselves, and, on the other\nhand, add much where Nature fails in perfection, in that they possess\nbeauty in themselves. So it was that Pheidias could sculpture a god\nalthough he had nothing that could be seen by the eye to imitate, but\ngrasped the appearance which Zeus himself would have if he were to come\nbefore our eyes.\n\n492\n\nArt rests upon a kind of religious sense: it is deeply and ineradicably\nin earnest. Thus it is that Art so willingly goes hand in hand with\nReligion.\n\n493\n\nA noble philosopher spoke of architecture as _frozen music_; and it was\ninevitable that many people should shake their heads over his remark. We\nbelieve that no better repetition of this fine thought can be given than\nby calling architecture a _speechless music_.\n\n494\n\nArt is essentially noble; therefore the artist has nothing to fear from\na low or common subject. Nay, by taking it up, he ennobles it; and so it\nis that we see the greatest artists boldly exercising their sovereign\nrights.\n\n495\n\nIn every artist there is a germ of daring, without which no talent is\nconceivable.\n\n496\n\nAll the artists who are already known to me from so many sides, I\npropose to consider exclusively from the ethical side; to explain from\nthe subject-matter and method of their work the part played therein by\ntime and place, nation and master, and their own indestructible\npersonality; to mould them to what they became and to preserve them in\nwhat they were.\n\n497\n\nArt is a medium of what no tongue can utter; and thus it seems a piece\nof folly to try to convey its meaning afresh by means of words. But, by\ntrying to do so, the understanding gains; and this, again, benefits the\nfaculty in practice.\n\n498\n\nAn artist who produces valuable work is not always able to give an\naccount of his own or others' performances.\n\n499\n\nWe know of no world except in relation to mankind; and we wish for no\nArt that does not bear the mark of this relation.\n\n500\n\nHigher aims are in themselves more valuable, even if unfulfilled, than\nlower ones quite attained.\n\n501\n\nBlunt na\u00efvety, stubborn vigour, scrupulous observance of rule, and any\nother epithets which may apply to older German Art, are a part of every\nearlier and simpler artistic method. The older Venetians, Florentines,\nand others had it all too.\n\n502\n\nBecause Albrecht D\u00fcrer, with his incomparable talent, could never rise\nto the idea of the symmetry of beauty, or even to the thought of a\nfitting conformity to the object in view, are we never to spurn the\nground!\n\n503\n\nAlbrecht D\u00fcrer had the advantage of a very profound realistic\nperception, an affectionate human sympathy with all present conditions.\nHe was kept back by a gloomy phantasy, devoid both of form and\nfoundation.\n\n504\n\nIt would be interesting to show how Martin Sch\u00f6n stands near him, and\nhow the merits of German Art were restricted to these two; and useful\nalso to show that it was not evening every day.\n\n505\n\nIn every Italian school the butterfly breaks loose from the chrysalis.\n\n506\n\nAfter Klopstock released us from rhyme, and Voss gave us models of\nprose, are we to make doggerel again like Hans Sachs?\n\n507\n\nLet us be many-sided! Turnips are good, but they are best mixed with\nchestnuts. And these two noble products of the earth grow far apart.\n\n508\n\nIn every kind of Art there is a degree of excellence which may be\nreached, so to speak, by the mere use of one's own natural talents. But\nat the same time it is impossible to go beyond that point, unless Art\ncomes to one's aid.\n\n509\n\nIn the presence of Nature even moderate talent is always possessed of\ninsight; hence drawings from Nature that are at all carefully done\nalways give pleasure.\n\n510\n\nTo make many sketches issue at last in a complete work is something that\nnot even the best artists always achieve.\n\n511\n\nIn the sphere of true Art there is no preparatory school, but there is a\nway of preparation; and the best preparation is the interest of the most\ninsignificant pupil in the work of the master. Colour-grinders have\noften made excellent painters.\n\n512\n\nIf an artist grasps Nature aright and contrives to give its form a\nnobler, freer grace, no one will understand the source of his\ninspiration, and every one will swear that he has taken it from the\nantique.\n\n513\n\nIn studying the human form, let the painter reject what is exaggerated,\nfalse, and mechanical; but let him learn to grasp of what infinite grace\nthe human body is capable.\n\n514\n\nKant taught us the critique of the reason. We must have a critique of\nthe senses if Art in general, and especially German Art, is ever to\nregain its tone and move forward on the path of life and happiness.\n\n\n\n\nSCIENCE\n\n\n515\n\nIn the sphere of natural science let us remember that we have always to\ndeal with an insoluble problem. Let us prove keen and honest in\nattending to anything which is in any way brought to our notice, most of\nall when it does not fit in with our previous ideas. For it is only\nthereby that we perceive the problem, which does indeed lie in nature,\nbut still more in man.\n\n516\n\nA man cannot well stand by himself, and so he is glad to join a party;\nbecause if he does not find rest there, he at any rate finds quiet and\nsafety.\n\n517\n\nIt is a misfortune to pass at once from observation to conclusion, and\nto regard both as of equal value; but it befalls many a student.\n\n518\n\nIn the history of science and throughout the whole course of its\nprogress we see certain epochs following one another more or less\nrapidly. Some important view is expressed, it may be original or only\nrevived; sooner or later it receives recognition; fellow workers spring\nup; the outcome of it finds its way into the schools; it is taught and\nhanded down; and we observe, unhappily, that it does not in the least\nmatter whether the view be true or false. In either case its course is\nthe same; in either case it comes in the end to be a mere phrase, a\nlifeless word stamped on the memory.\n\n519\n\nFirst let a man teach himself, and then he will be taught by others.\n\n520\n\nTheories are usually the over-hasty efforts of an impatient\nunderstanding that would gladly be rid of phenomena, and so puts in\ntheir place pictures, notions, nay, often mere words. We may surmise, or\neven see quite well, that such theories are make-shifts; but do not\npassion and party-spirit love a make-shift at all times? And rightly,\ntoo, because they stand in so much need of it.\n\n521\n\nIt is difficult to know how to treat the errors of the age. If a man\noppose them, he stands alone; if he surrender to them, they bring him\nneither joy nor credit.\n\n522\n\nThere are some hundred Christian sects, every one of them acknowledging\nGod and the Lord in its own way, without troubling themselves further\nabout one another. In the study of nature, nay, in every study, things\nmust of necessity come to the same pass. For what is the meaning of\nevery one speaking of toleration, and trying to prevent others from\nthinking and expressing themselves after their own fashion?\n\n523\n\nTo communicate knowledge by means of analogy appears to me a process\nequally useful and pleasant. The analogous case is not there to force\nitself on the attention or prove anything; it offers a comparison with\nsome other case, but is not in union with it. Several analogous cases do\nnot join to form a seried row: they are like good society, which always\nsuggests more than it grants.\n\n524\n\nTo err is to be as though truth did not exist. To lay bare the error to\noneself and others is retrospective discovery.\n\n525\n\nWith the growth of knowledge our ideas must from time to time be\norganised afresh. The change takes place usually in accordance with new\nmaxims as they arise, but it always remains provisional.\n\n526\n\nWhen we find facts within our knowledge exhibited by some new method, or\neven, it may be, described in a foreign language, they receive a\npeculiar charm of novelty and wear a fresh air.\n\n527\n\nIf two masters of the same art differ in their statement of it, in all\nlikelihood the insoluble problem lies midway between them.\n\n528\n\nThe orbits of certainties touch one another; but in the interstices\nthere is room enough for error to go forth and prevail.\n\n529\n\nWe more readily confess to errors, mistakes, and shortcomings in our\nconduct than in our thought.\n\n530\n\nAnd the reason of it is that the conscience is humble and even takes a\npleasure in being ashamed. But the intellect is proud, and if forced to\nrecant is driven to despair.\n\n531\n\nThis also explains how it is that truths which have been recognised are\nat first tacitly admitted, and then gradually spread, so that the very\nthing which was obstinately denied appears at last as something quite\nnatural.\n\n532\n\nIgnorant people raise questions which were answered by the wise\nthousands of years ago.\n\n533\n\nWhen a man sees a phenomenon before him, his thoughts often range beyond\nit; when he hears it only talked about, he has no thoughts at all.\n\n534\n\nAuthority. Man cannot exist without it, and yet it brings in its train\njust as much of error as of truth. It perpetuates one by one things\nwhich should pass away one by one; it rejects that which should be\npreserved and allows it to pass away; and it is chiefly to blame for\nmankind's want of progress.\n\n535\n\nAuthority--the fact, namely, that something has already happened or been\nsaid or decided, is of great value; but it is only a pedant who demands\nauthority for everything.\n\n536\n\nAn old foundation is worthy of all respect, but it must not take from us\nthe right to build afresh wherever we will.\n\n537\n\nOur advice is that every man should remain in the path he has struck out\nfor himself, and refuse to be overawed by authority, hampered by\nprevalent opinion, or carried away by fashion.\n\n538\n\nThe various branches of knowledge always tend as a whole to stray away\nfrom life, and return thither only by a roundabout way.\n\n539\n\nFor they are, in truth, text-books of life: they gather outer and inner\nexperiences into a general and connected whole.\n\n540\n\nAn important fact, an ingenious _aper\u00e7u_, occupies a very great number\nof men, at first only to make acquaintance with it; then to understand\nit; and afterwards to work it out and carry it further.\n\n541\n\nOn the appearance of anything new the mass of people ask: What is the\nuse of it? And they are not wrong. For it is only through the use of\nanything that they can perceive its value.\n\n542\n\nThe truly wise ask what the thing is in itself and in relation to other\nthings, and do not trouble themselves about the use of it,--in other\nwords, about the way in which it may be applied to the necessities of\nexistence and what is already known. This will soon be discovered by\nminds of a very different order--minds that feel the joy of living, and\nare keen, adroit, and practical.\n\n543\n\nEvery investigator must before all things look upon himself as one who\nis summoned to serve on a jury. He has only to consider how far the\nstatement of the case is complete and clearly set forth by the evidence.\nThen he draws his conclusion and gives his vote, whether it be that his\nopinion coincides with that of the foreman or not.\n\n544\n\nAnd in acting thus he remains equally at ease whether the majority agree\nwith him or he finds himself in a minority. For he has done what he\ncould: he has expressed his convictions; and he is not master of the\nminds or hearts of others.\n\n545\n\nIn the world of science, however, these sentiments have never been of\nmuch account. There everything depends on making opinion prevail and\ndominate; few men are really independent; the majority draws the\nindividual after it.\n\n546\n\nThe history of philosophy, of science, of religion, all shows that\nopinions spread in masses, but that that always comes to the front which\nis more easily grasped, that is to say, is most suited and agreeable to\nthe human mind in its ordinary condition. Nay, he who has practised\nself-culture in the higher sense may always reckon upon meeting an\nadverse majority.\n\n547\n\nThere is much that is true which does not admit of being calculated;\njust as there are a great many things that cannot be brought to the test\nof a decisive experiment.\n\n548\n\nIt is just for this that man stands so high, that what could not\notherwise be brought to light should be brought to light in him.\n\nWhat is a musical string, and all its mechanical division, in comparison\nwith the musician's ear? May we not also say, what are the elementary\nphenomena of nature itself compared with man, who must control and\nmodify them all before he can in any way assimilate them to himself?\n\n549\n\nTo a new truth there is nothing more hurtful than an old error.\n\n550\n\nThe ultimate origin of things is completely beyond our faculties; hence\nwhen we see anything come into being, we look upon it as having been\nalready there. This is why we find the theory of _embo\u00eetement_\nintelligible.\n\n551\n\nThere are many problems in natural science on which we cannot fittingly\nspeak unless we call metaphysics to our aid; but not the wisdom of the\nschools, which consists in mere verbiage. It is that which was before\nphysics, exists with it, and will be after it.\n\n552\n\nSince men are really interested in nothing but their own opinions, every\none who puts forward an opinion looks about him right and left for means\nof strengthening himself and others in it. A man avails himself of the\ntruth so long as it is serviceable; but he seizes on what is false with\na passionate eloquence as soon as he can make a momentary use of it;\nwhether it be to dazzle others with it as a kind of half-truth, or to\nemploy it as a stopgap for effecting an apparent union between things\nthat have been disjointed. This experience at first caused me annoyance,\nand then sorrow; and now it is a source of mischievous satisfaction. I\nhave pledged myself never again to expose a proceeding of this kind.\n\n553\n\nEverything that we call Invention or Discovery in the higher sense of\nthe word is the serious exercise and activity of an original feeling for\ntruth, which, after a long course of silent cultivation, suddenly\nflashes out into fruitful knowledge. It is a revelation working from\nwithin on the outer world, and lets a man feel that he is made in the\nimage of God. It is a synthesis of World and Mind, giving the most\nblessed assurance of the eternal harmony of things.\n\n554\n\nA man must cling to the belief that the incomprehensible is\ncomprehensible; otherwise he would not try to fathom it.\n\n555\n\nThere are pedants who are also rascals, and they are the worst of all.\n\n556\n\nA man does not need to have seen or experienced everything himself. But\nif he is to commit himself to another's experiences and his way of\nputting them, let him consider that he has to do with three things--the\nobject in question and two subjects.\n\n557\n\nThe supreme achievement would be to see that stating a fact is starting\na theory.\n\n558\n\nIf I acquiesce at last in some ultimate fact of nature, it is, no doubt,\nonly resignation; but it makes a great difference whether the\nresignation takes place at the limits of human faculty, or within the\nhypothetical boundaries of my own narrow individuality.\n\n559\n\nIf we look at the problems raised by Aristotle, we are astonished at his\ngift of observation. What wonderful eyes the Greeks had for many things!\nOnly they committed the mistake of being over-hasty, of passing\nstraightway from the phenomenon to the explanation of it, and thereby\nproduced certain theories that are quite inadequate. But this is the\nmistake of all times, and still made in our own day.\n\n560\n\nHypotheses are cradle-songs by which the teacher lulls his scholars to\nsleep. The thoughtful and honest observer is always learning more and\nmore of his limitations; he sees that the further knowledge spreads, the\nmore numerous are the problems that make their appearance.\n\n561\n\nOur mistake is that we doubt what is certain and want to establish what\nis uncertain. My maxim in the study of Nature is this: hold fast what is\ncertain and keep a watch on what is uncertain.\n\n562\n\nWhat a master a man would be in his own subject if he taught nothing\nuseless!\n\n563\n\nThe greatest piece of folly is that every man thinks himself compelled\nto hand down what people think they have known.\n\n564\n\nIf many a man did not feel obliged to repeat what is untrue, because he\nhas said it once, the world would have been quite different.\n\n565\n\nEvery man looks at the world lying ready before him, ordered and\nfashioned into a complete whole, as after all but an element out of\nwhich his endeavour is to create a special world suited to himself.\nCapable men lay hold of the world without hesitation and try to shape\ntheir course as best they can; others dally over it, and some doubt even\nof their own existence.\n\nThe man who felt the full force of this fundamental truth would dispute\nwith no one, but look upon another's mode of thought equally with his\nown, as merely a phenomenon. For we find almost daily that one man can\nthink with ease what another cannot possibly think at all; and that,\ntoo, not in matters which might have some sort of effect upon their\ncommon weal or woe, but in things which cannot touch them at all.\n\n566\n\nThere is nothing more odious than the majority; it consists of a few\npowerful men to lead the way; of accommodating rascals and submissive\nweaklings; and of a mass of men who trot after them, without in the\nleast knowing their own mind.\n\n567\n\nWhen I observe the luminous progress and expansion of natural science in\nmodern times, I seem to myself like a traveller going eastwards at dawn,\nand gazing at the growing light with joy, but also with impatience;\nlooking forward with longing to the advent of the full and final light,\nbut, nevertheless, having to turn away his eyes when the sun appeared,\nunable to bear the splendour he had awaited with so much desire.\n\n568\n\nWe praise the eighteenth century for concerning itself chiefly with\nanalysis. The task remaining to the nineteenth is to discover the false\nsyntheses which prevail, and to analyse their contents anew.\n\n569\n\nA school may be regarded as a single individual who talks to himself for\na hundred years, and takes an extraordinary pleasure in his own being,\nhowever foolish and silly it may be.\n\n570\n\nIn science it is a service of the highest merit to seek out those\nfragmentary truths attained by the ancients, and to develop them\nfurther.\n\n571\n\nIf a man devotes himself to the promotion of science, he is firstly\nopposed, and then he is informed that his ground is already occupied. At\nfirst men will allow no value to what we tell them, and then they behave\nas if they knew it all themselves.\n\n572\n\nNature fills all space with her limitless productivity. If we observe\nmerely our own earth, everything that we call evil and unfortunate is so\nbecause Nature cannot provide room for everything that comes into\nexistence, and still less endow it with permanence.\n\n573\n\nEverything that comes into being seeks room for itself and desires\nduration: hence it drives something else from its place and shortens its\nduration.\n\n574\n\nThere is so much of cryptogamy in phanerogamy that centuries will not\ndecipher it.\n\n575\n\nWhat a true saying it is that he who wants to deceive mankind must\nbefore all things make absurdity plausible.\n\n576\n\nThe further knowledge advances, the nearer we come to the unfathomable:\nthe more we know how to use our knowledge, the better we see that the\nunfathomable is of no practical use.\n\n577\n\nThe finest achievement for a man of thought is to have fathomed what may\nbe fathomed, and quietly to revere the unfathomable.\n\n578\n\nThe discerning man who acknowledges his limitations is not far off\nperfection.\n\n579\n\nThere are two things of which a man cannot be careful enough: of\nobstinacy if he confines himself to his own line of thought; of\nincompetency, if he goes beyond it.\n\n580\n\nIncompetency is a greater obstacle to perfection than one would think.\n\n581\n\nThe century advances; but every individual begins anew.\n\n582\n\nWhat friends do with us and for us is a real part of our life; for it\nstrengthens and advances our personality. The assault of our enemies is\nnot part of our life; it is only part of our experience; we throw it off\nand guard ourselves against it as against frost, storm, rain, hail, or\nany other of the external evils which may be expected to happen.\n\n583\n\nA man cannot live with every one, and therefore he cannot live for every\none. To see this truth aright is to place a high value upon one's\nfriends, and not to hate or persecute one's enemies. Nay, there is\nhardly any greater advantage for a man to gain than to find out, if he\ncan, the merits of his opponents: it gives him a decided ascendency over\nthem.\n\n584\n\nEvery one knows how to value what he has attained in life; most of all\nthe man who thinks and reflects in his old age. He has a comfortable\nfeeling that it is something of which no one can rob him.\n\n585\n\nThe best metempsychosis is for us to appear again in others.\n\n586\n\nIt is very seldom that we satisfy ourselves; all the more consoling is\nit to have satisfied others.\n\n587\n\nWe look back upon our life only as on a thing of broken pieces, because\nour misses and failures are always the first to strike us, and outweigh\nin our imagination what we have done, and attained.\n\n588\n\nThe sympathetic youth sees nothing of this; he reads, enjoys, and uses\nthe youth of one who has gone before him, and rejoices in it with all\nhis heart, as though he had once been what he now is.\n\n589\n\nScience helps us before all things in this, that it somewhat lightens\nthe feeling of wonder with which Nature fills us; then, however, as life\nbecomes more and more complex, it creates new facilities for the\navoidance of what would do us harm and the promotion of what will do us\ngood.\n\n590\n\nIt is always our eyes alone, our way of looking at things. Nature alone\nknows what she means now, and what she had meant in the past.\n\n\n\n\nNATURE: APHORISMS\n\n\nNature! We are surrounded by her and locked in her clasp: powerless to\nleave her, and powerless to come closer to her. Unasked and unwarned she\ntakes us up into the whirl of her dance, and hurries on with us till we\nare weary and fall from her arms.\n\nShe creates new forms without end: what exists now, never was before;\nwhat was, comes not again; all is new and yet always the old.\n\nWe live in the midst of her and are strangers. She speaks to us\nunceasingly and betrays not her secret. We are always influencing her\nand yet can do her no violence.\n\nIndividuality seems to be all her aim, and she cares nought for\nindividuals. She is always building and always destroying, and her\nworkshop is not to be approached.\n\nNature lives in her children only, and the mother, where is she? She is\nthe sole artist,--out of the simplest materials the greatest diversity;\nattaining, with no trace of effort, the finest perfection, the closest\nprecision, always softly veiled. Each of her works has an essence of its\nown; every shape that she takes is in idea utterly isolated; and yet all\nforms one.\n\nShe plays a drama; whether she sees it herself, we know not; and yet she\nplays it for us, who stand but a little way off.\n\nThere is constant life in her, motion and development; and yet she\nremains where she was. She is eternally changing, nor for a moment does\nshe stand still. Of rest she knows nothing, and to all stagnation she\nhas affixed her curse. She is steadfast; her step is measured, her\nexceptions rare, her laws immutable.\n\nShe has thought, and she ponders unceasingly; not as a man, but as\nNature. The meaning of the whole she keeps to herself, and no one can\nlearn it of her.\n\nMen are all in her, and she in all men. With all she plays a friendly\ngame, and rejoices the more a man wins from her. With many her game is\nso secret, that she brings it to an end before they are aware of it.\n\nEven what is most unnatural is Nature; even the coarsest Philistinism\nhas something of her genius. Who does not see her everywhere, sees her\nnowhere aright.\n\nShe loves herself, and clings eternally to herself with eyes and hearts\ninnumerable. She has divided herself that she may be her own delight.\nShe is ever making new creatures spring up to delight in her, and\nimparts herself insatiably.\n\nShe rejoices in illusion. If a man destroys this in himself and others,\nshe punishes him like the hardest tyrant. If he follows her in\nconfidence, she presses him to her heart as it were her child.\n\nHer children are numberless. To no one of them is she altogether\nniggardly; but she has her favourites, on whom she lavishes much, and\nfor whom she makes many a sacrifice. Over the great she has spread the\nshield of her protection.\n\nShe spurts forth her creatures out of nothing, and tells them not whence\nthey come and whither they go. They have only to go their way: she knows\nthe path.\n\nHer springs of action are few, but they never wear out: they are always\nworking, always manifold.\n\nThe drama she plays is always new, because she is always bringing new\nspectators. Life is her fairest invention, and Death is her device for\nhaving life in abundance.\n\nShe envelops man in darkness, and urges him constantly to the light. She\nmakes him dependent on the earth, heavy and sluggish, and always rouses\nhim up afresh.\n\nShe creates wants, because she loves movement. How marvellous that she\ngains it all so easily! Every want is a benefit, soon satisfied, soon\ngrowing again. If she gives more, it is a new source of desire; but the\nbalance quickly rights itself.\n\nEvery moment she starts on the longest journeys, and every moment\nreaches her goal.\n\nShe amuses herself with a vain show; but to us her play is\nall-important.\n\nShe lets every child work at her, every fool judge of her, and thousands\npass her by and see nothing; and she has her joy in them all, and in\nthem all finds her account.\n\nMan obeys her laws even in opposing them: he works with her even when he\nwants to work against her.\n\nEverything she gives is found to be good, for first of all she makes it\nindispensable. She lingers, that we may long for presence; she hurries\nby, that we may not grow weary of her.\n\nSpeech or language she has none; but she creates tongues and hearts\nthrough which she feels and speaks.\n\nHer crown is Love. Only through Love can we come near her. She puts\ngulfs between all things, and all things strive to be interfused. She\nisolates everything, that she may draw everything together. With a few\ndraughts from the cup of Love she repays for a life full of trouble.\n\nShe is all things. She rewards herself and punishes herself; and in\nherself rejoices and is distressed. She is rough and gentle, loving and\nterrible, powerless and almighty. In her everything is always present.\nPast or Future she knows not. The Present is her Eternity. She is kind.\nI praise her with all her works. She is wise and still. No one can force\nher to explain herself, or frighten her into a gift that she does not\ngive willingly. She is crafty, but for a good end; and it is best not to\nnotice her cunning.\n\nShe is whole and yet never finished. As she works now, so can she work\nfor ever.\n\nTo every one she appears in a form of his own. She hides herself in a\nthousand names and terms, and is always the same.\n\nShe has placed me in this world; she will also lead me out of it. I\ntrust myself to her. She may do with me as she pleases. She will not\nhate her work. I did not speak of her. No! what is true and what is\nfalse, she has spoken it all. Everything is her fault, everything is her\nmerit.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n  Absent, the, 47.\n  Absolute, the, 238.\n  Abstractions, how destroyed, 203.\n  Absurdities, 229, 575.\n  Acquaintances, new, 432.\n  Acquirements, 344.\n  Acting unlike oneself, 298.\n  Activity, 342, 368, 372, 401.\n  \u00c6schylus, saying of, 121.\n  Age, 391.\n  Age and Youth, 37, 233-4, 237, 295, 321, 374.\n  Ages of life, 390.\n  Agreement and disagreement, 384.\n  Aims, 278, 342, 500.\n  Altruism, 167, 214, 583.\n  Analogies, 46, 523.\n  Analysis, 568.\n  Ancient literature, 447.\n  Ancients, the, 443, 445, 570.\n  Anthropomorphism, 165.\n  Antiquities, 325.\n  Antiquity and posterity, 190.\n  Architecture, a speechless music, 493.\n  Aristotle, 559.\n  Art, 492, 494, 499, 508.\n  Art and Nature, 482-3, 490-1, 509, 512.\n  Art and the World, 485-6.\n  Artist, the, 495-8.\n  Artistic criticism, 116.\n  Assemblies, 281.\n  Attainable, the, 48.\n  Attainments, 584, 587.\n  Authority, 534-7.\n  Authorship, 418.\n\n  Ballads, 477-8.\n  Beauty, 136, 232, 481.\n  Bible, the, 457-9.\n  Books, 417, 420, 432, 456.\n\n  Cause and effect, 394.\n  Century, the, and the individual, 581.\n  Character, 367.\n  Characteristics, 7, 29, 74, 91, 110, 179, 291, 297, 311, 344.\n  Children, 245-7.\n  Christ, 314.\n  Classicism, 462-3.\n  Clever folly, 175.\n  Common-sense, 49, 217.\n  Complications, 45.\n  Confession of error, 529.\n  Confidences, 142.\n  Conscience, 125.\n  Conscience and intellect, 530.\n  Contemporaries, 386, 454.\n  Contradictions, 87, 102, 223, 288-9, 378, 382.\n  Converts, 170.\n  Criticism, 146, 182, 304, 456.\n  Critique of common-sense, 393.\n  Critique of the senses, 514.\n  Cryptogamy, 574.\n  Culture, 328-9, 412.\n\n  Dangerous men, 275-6.\n  Debtor and creditor, 282-3.\n  Deception, 320, 400.\n  Defects, 89.\n  Despotism, advantages of, 209.\n  Dialectic, 379.\n  Difficulties, 277-8, 330, 398.\n  Dilettanti, 159.\n  Discovery, 397, 553.\n  Dispositions, like and unlike, 380.\n  Distinctions, 166.\n  Doggerel, 506.\n  Doing good, 98.\n  D\u00fcrer, Albrecht, 502-3.\n  Duties and rights, 150.\n  Duty, 3, 38, 402.\n\n  Eclecticism, 436-7.\n  Education, 444.\n  Education, overpressure in, 371.\n  Eighteenth century, 568.\n  _Embo\u00eetement_, theory of, 550.\n  Empirical morality, 140.\n  Encyclop\u00e6dia, the best, 161.\n  Enemies, 582.\n  Enemies' merits, 387, 583.\n  Enthusiasm, 211, 471.\n  Erasmus, saying of, 63.\n  Error and half-truth, 59, 61, 72, 564.\n  Errors of the age, 521.\n  Excellence unfathomable, 406.\n  Existence of evil, 572-3.\n  Experience, 43, 556.\n\n  Facts and theories, 557.\n  Facts and thoughts, 188.\n  Facts newly stated, 526.\n  Faith, 117.\n  False notions, 5, 200.\n  False tendencies, 64.\n  Familiarity, 262.\n  Fashion, 392.\n  Fastidiousness, 260.\n  Faults, 296-7, 299, 304-5.\n  Favour, 83.\n  Fear, 275.\n  Figurative sayings:\n  a leaf and a bird, 359.\n  an old man warming himself, 363.\n  blowing the flute, 16.\n  buttoning one's coat, 362.\n  curds and cream, 58.\n  dirt and the sun, 99.\n  dust and the storm, 66.\n  frogs and water, 71.\n  heroes and valets, 272.\n  Hindoos of the desert, 106.\n  hitting the nail, 78.\n  lamps and the light of heaven, 361.\n  lifting the stone, 208.\n  mankind and the Red Sea, 187.\n  names for the sea, 95.\n  snow, 92.\n  the Antipodes, disputing about, 90.\n  the forester and the tree, 358.\n  the iron in the smithy, 310.\n  the millstream, 42.\n  the rainbow, 115.\n  the sparrow and the stork, 360.\n  the world a bell, 158.\n  turnips and chestnuts, 507.\n\n  Flattery, 145, 287, 289.\n  Fools, 271, 276.\n  Forethought, 103.\n  Form, the human, 513.\n  Freedom and slavery, 268-9.\n  Friends' defects, 387.\n  Friendship, 248, 582.\n  Fulfilment of desire, 228, 267.\n  Fulfilment of duty, 38.\n  Future, the, 280.\n\n  General ideas, 15,177.\n  Generosity, 65.\n  Genius, 232, 273, 336-9, 425.\n  Gentle judgments, 124.\n  German art, 501.\n  Germans, the, 326.\n  God, 307, 353.\n  Godlike, the, 308.\n  Good advice, 206.\n  Good manners, 254-7, 263-5.\n  Good will of others, 34.\n  Government, the best, 225.\n  Graceful misery, 126.\n  Gratitude, 283.\n  Great ideas, 239, 349, 350-2.\n  Great men, 274.\n  Great men and little men, 69, 119, 271.\n  Great men and the masses, 147.\n  Greek and Latin, study of, 444, 446.\n  Greek and Latin writers, 469.\n  Greek art, 484.\n  Greeks, the, 189, 443, 559.\n\n  Habit, 129.\n  Hatred and envy, 130.\n  Hearing and understanding, 383.\n  High positions, 335.\n  Historian's duty, the, 452-3, 455.\n  Historic sense, 460.\n  History, 80, 451.\n  History of knowledge, 55.\n  Honour and rascality, 144.\n  Hope, 194, 280, 315.\n  Hypotheses, 560.\n\n  Ideals, 141, 348.\n  Ideas and sensations, 93.\n  Ignorance, 231.\n  Illusions, 186.\n  Imagination, how regulated, 489.\n  Imprudence, 50, 105.\n  Incompetence and imperfection, 17, 18.\n  Incompetency, 579-80.\n  Individuals and the age, 201, 581.\n  Influencing one's age, 365.\n  Ingratitude, 152.\n  Inquiry, limits of, 327, 554, 558, 576-7.\n  Insight, 370.\n  Intelligence, 322.\n  Intention, 334.\n  Interest in public events, 331.\n  Introspection, 75.\n  Investigator, the true, 543-4.\n  Irregular circumstances, 143.\n  Isolation of the good, 224.\n  Italian art, 505.\n\n  Judgment, 85-6.\n  Justice and law, 54.\n\n  Kepler, saying of, 354.\n  Knowledge, 235, 324, 370, 525-6, 538.\n  Knowledge and doubt, 178.\n  Knowledge and new ideas, 82.\n  Knowledge, branches of, 539.\n  Knowledge of one another, 67-70, 251-3.\n  Knowledge, the contempt for, 113.\n\n  Language and thought, 317, 407.\n  Languages, knowledge of, 414.\n  Laws, 321.\n  Laws, study of, 168.\n  Leasing, saying of, 52.\n  Lessons, 139.\n  Liberal ideas, 174, 375.\n  Liberality, the truest, 385.\n  Life, the art of, 101, 192, 282, 584.\n  Limitations, 578.\n  Literature a fragment, 404-5.\n  Literature, corrupt, 465-7.\n  Literature, new, 409.\n  Love, 195, 270.\n  Love of truth, 28.\n  Loving one's like, 180.\n  Lucidity, 413.\n  Lyrics, 421.\n\n  Majorities, 544-6, 566.\n  Malignance of scholars, 135.\n  Man and his organs, 347.\n  Masters, 94, 310.\n  Mastery, 204.\n  Matter, contents and form, 183.\n  Maxims and anecdotes, 156.\n  Maxims of the ancients, 438-42.\n  Means and end, 11.\n  Mediocrity, 221, 273.\n  Memoirs, 149.\n  Memory, 157.\n  Men and women, 226, 295.\n  Metaphysics, 551.\n  Metempsychosis, the best, 585.\n  Method in art and knowledge, 112.\n  Mischief, 160.\n  Misfortunes, 227.\n  Mistakes, 13, 40, 153, 162, 210, 218, 285-6, 524, 561.\n  Misunderstanding, 122.\n  Moment, the, a kind of public, 369.\n  Monarchs and the press, 375.\n  Moods, 100.\n  Morality, 319.\n  Motive, 10.\n  Mottoes, 207.\n  Music, 488.\n  Mysteries and miracles, 169.\n  Mysticism, 430.\n\n  Napoleon, 240-1.\n  National character, 73, 374, 429.\n  Nature, 572, 590.\n  Nature and art, 482-3, 490-1, 509, 512.\n  Nature and culture, 284, 477.\n  Nature-poets, 419.\n  Nature, study of, 561.\n  Newspapers, 23, 375, 461.\n\n  Obscurantism, 88.\n  Obscurity in an author, 431.\n  Observation and conclusion, 517, 559.\n  Obstinacy, 579.\n  Opinions, 107, 552.\n  Opponents, 381-2.\n  Opposition, 88.\n  Originality, 1, 134, 409-11, 536-7.\n  Origins, 550.\n  Ovid, 463.\n\n  Parties, 516.\n  Passions, 300-3.\n  Past, the, 138.\n  Patience, 357.\n  Patriotism in art and science, 448.\n  Patrons, 133.\n  Paying for one's humanity, 173.\n  Peace, 53.\n  Pedantry, 132, 535, 555.\n  _Pereant qui ante nos nostra dizerunt!_ 333.\n  Perfection, 343, 578, 580.\n  Perseverance, 193, 537.\n  Perversities of the day, 244.\n  Pessimism, 181, 184.\n  Phenomena, how to approach, 399.\n  Philosophy and the ages of life, 390.\n  Piety, 35-6.\n  Plain speaking, 172.\n  Plans and designs, 12.\n  Poetical talent, 449.\n  Poetry, 176.\n  Posterity, the appeal to, 408.\n  Power of conviction, 84.\n  Practical men and thinkers, 395.\n  Praising a man, 323.\n  Prayer, 315.\n  Predestination, 355.\n  Prejudices, 215.\n  Primeval powers, 236.\n  Problem of science, 515, 551.\n  Problematical natures, 97.\n  Problematical opinions, 30.\n  Problematical talents, 171.\n  Problems, 527.\n  Productive energy, 164.\n  Productivity, 415.\n  Progress and problems, 398.\n  Progress, conflicts of, 219.\n  Progress of science, 567.\n  Prop\u00e6deutics, 212, 511.\n  Protestants, 205.\n  Prudent energy, 16.\n  Psychology, 433.\n  Public, the, 96, 369, 389, 416, 541.\n\n  Questions, 532.\n\n  Reason, 4.\n  Reformation, the, 313, 316.\n  Religion, 312.\n  Religious controversy, 460.\n  Renaissance, the, 313.\n  Revolution, saying on the, 373.\n  Revolutionary sentiments, 216.\n  Rhythm, 131.\n  Riddles, 62.\n  Ridiculous, the, 291-4.\n  Right, doing what is, 77.\n  Rocks of offence, 306.\n  Roland, Madame, 403.\n  Romances, 422.\n  Romantic landscape, 480.\n  Romanticism, 462, 464.\n\n  _Sakontala_, 472.\n  Satisfaction, 586.\n  Scepticism, 340-1.\n  Schiller, Goethe and, 434-5.\n  Scholar, the real, 309.\n  Sch\u00f6n, Martin, 504.\n  Schools of thought, 569.\n  Science: its course, 518, 540-1, 545-6, 567, 570-1, 589.\n  Science: its problem, 515.\n  Sects, 522.\n  Self-appreciation, 20, 56, 111, 249, 366.\n  Self-guidance, 21-2, 24-5, 33.\n  Self-knowledge, 2.\n  Senses, 345-6.\n  Senses, false tendencies of, 487.\n  Sentimental poetry, 423.\n  Sentimentality, national, 429.\n  Service, 196.\n  Shakespeare, 473-5.\n  Silence, 32.\n  Sincerity and impartiality, 151.\n  Sketches, 510.\n  Society, 250.\n  Society, soldiers and civilians in, 258-9.\n  Society, the best, 230, 289.\n  Soporifics, 76.\n  Sowing and reaping, 279.\n  Spectacles, 261.\n  Speech, 382.\n  Speech and language, 123.\n  Speech and writing, 377.\n  Speeches, 287.\n  Spinozism in poetry, 427.\n  Steady activity, 154.\n  Sterne, 476.\n  Subordination, 191.\n  Success in the world, 6, 19, 368.\n  Superiority of another, 270.\n  Superstition, 31, 424.\n  Symbolism, 202.\n\n  Tact, 26-7.\n  Tattle, 148.\n  Tattooing, 79.\n  Teaching, 519, 562-3.\n  Theatre, effect of the, 197.\n  Theory, 44, 520, 557.\n  Theory and experience, 198.\n  \"Things of another world,\" 242-3.\n  Thinkers, 416.\n  Thinking for oneself, 8.\n  Thoroughness, 41.\n  Thought, 1, 396, 412, 533, 563.\n  Thoughts at the close of life, 403.\n  Timon, saying of, 127.\n  Toleration, 356.\n  Tradition, 392, 563.\n  Tragedies, 470.\n  Translation, 426, 479.\n  Troubles, 104.\n  Truth, 14, 28, 60, 120, 163, 336, 531, 547, 553.\n  Truth and error, 108-9, 137, 185, 199, 213, 468, 528, 549, 552.\n  Truth to oneself and others, 337.\n  Tyranny of great ideas, 51.\n\n  Ultimate facts, 558.\n  Unconditioned, striving after the, 372.\n  Understanding, 81, 383, 388.\n  Unfathomable, the, 576-7.\n  Unities, the three, 428.\n  Unjust blame, 96.\n  Unqualified activity, 9.\n  Use and value, 541-2.\n\n  Value of each day, 332.\n  _Vanitas vanitatum!_ 114.\n  Vanity, 376.\n  _Veni Creator Spiritus_, 425.\n  Visitors, 252-3.\n  Voluntary dependence, 266.\n  Vulgarity, 222.\n\n  Wisdom of this world, 307.\n  Wishing people well, 128.\n  Will, 324.\n  Word and picture, 155.\n  Words of praise and blame, 468.\n  Work, 57.\n  Work for the past and the future, 364.\n  Work, how it limits us, 220.\n  World, the, 158, 565.\n  Worthiest lot, the, 342.\n\n  Youth, 588.\n\n\n\n\nTHE END","title":"Maxims and Reflections","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":32561}