伟大的思想(第一辑)(套装全10册)(双语版) (企鹅口袋书系列)
Author: 亨利•戴维•梭罗; 拉尔夫•瓦尔多•爱默生; 弗里德里希 尼采; 亚当•斯密; 塞内加; 阿图尔•叔本华; 托马斯•潘恩; 弗朗西斯•培根; 让-雅克•卢梭; 奥古斯丁
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00
Description: Anthology containing: 伟大的思想(第一辑)我的栖身之所，我的人生目的 by 亨利•戴维•梭罗 伟大的思想(第一辑)论自然 by 拉尔夫•瓦尔多•爱默生 伟大的思想(第一辑)天才，舍我其谁？ by 弗里德里希 尼采 伟大的思想(第一辑)看不见的手 by 亚当•斯密 伟大的思想(第一辑)论生命之短暂 by 塞内加 伟大的思想(第一辑)论世间苦难 by 阿图尔•叔本华 伟大的思想(第一辑)常识 by 托马斯•潘恩 伟大的思想(第一辑)论君权 by 弗朗西斯•培根 伟大的思想 社会契约论 by 让-雅克•卢梭 伟大的思想(第一辑)忏悔录 by 奥古斯丁
Publisher: 中国对外翻译出版社
Rights: Copyrights as per source stories

目　录

中文目录

英文目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

我的栖身之所，
我的人生目的

（英汉双语）

亨利·戴维·梭罗　著　李育超　译

中国出版集团

中国对外翻译出版公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

我的栖身之所，我的人生目的/［美］亨利·戴维·梭罗著；李育超译—北京：中国对外翻译出版公司，2009.11

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-2520-4

Ⅰ．我…　Ⅱ．①亨…②李…　Ⅲ．　　—　　　　—　　　Ⅳ．

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2009）第　　　　　号

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版公司

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排　　版／北京杰瑞腾达科技发展有限公司

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字　　数／　　　千字

版　　次／2009年11月第一版

印　　次／2009年11月第一次

ISBN　978-2520-4　定价：00.00元

| 版权所有　侵权必究
中国对外翻译出版公司

中文目录

简朴生活

我的栖身之所，我的人生目的

冬日里的动物

结束语

返回总目录

简朴生活

以下篇章，更确切地说是大部分文字，是我离群索居，在马萨诸塞州康科德镇的瓦尔登湖滨那片森林里写就的。那时候，我孤身一人居住在自己亲手搭建的屋舍里，方圆一英里之内没有任何邻居，仅靠双手劳作来养活自己。在那里，我生活了两年又两个月。如今，我又成了文明生活的过客。

若不是镇子里的人对我的生活方式刨根问底，我本不会把自己这些私事强加给读者。有些人可能会把这种探询称为唐突无礼，不过，在我看来并非如此，而且，考虑到当时的情景，那是自然而然，合情合理的。他们中间有些人问我吃些什么，是否感到孤单寂寞，是否害怕，诸如此类。另有些人好奇地打探，我把自己收入中的多大一部分捐赠给了慈善事业；还有些人，家里人口多，想知道我抚养了几个贫苦孩子。在这本书里，我会对上述的某些问题作出回答，在此恳请那些对我这个人没有什么特殊兴趣的读者多加原谅。在多数作品中，第一人称“我”通常是避而不用的；而在我这本书里，“我”则大行其道；言必称我是本书与众不同的主要特点。其实，说到底，进行陈述的都是第一人称，我们却往往忽视这一点。倘若我对他人知之甚多，如同了解自己一般，我就不会大谈特谈自我了。遗憾的是，我阅历浅薄，只得囿于这一主题。不仅如此，就我而言，我想要每一个作家，都不仅仅是记述道听途说来的别人的生活，而是或迟或早，把自己的生活以一种简洁而真诚的方式描述出来；类似于他从遥远的异地写给亲人的生活实录；因为我觉得，如果一个人真诚地生活过，他必定是生活在一个与我相距遥远的地方。也许这些篇章更适合那些清贫的莘莘学子，至于其他读者，他们自会各取所需。我相信，没有人愿意穿上一件紧绷绷的衣衫，只有合乎尺寸的衣服穿上才会感到舒适自如。

我在此娓娓道来的事情与中国以及桑威奇群岛〔1〕的人没有多大关系，而是与阅读这些文字的诸位——你们这些生活在新英格兰的人息息相关；我所说的正是你们的际遇，尤其是你们在这个世界上，在这个城镇里生活的外部境况或环境，也就是说，你们生活得如此不尽人意是不可避免的吗？这种状况是否能够得到改善？我在康科德游历过很多地方，所到之处，不论是商店、办公室，还是田野里，我无不感觉到这里的居民仿佛正在以数以千计不同寻常的方式身体力行着苦修赎罪。我听说，婆罗门教徒会坐在四堆火之间，眼睛直视太阳，或者头朝下倒挂在火焰之上，或者侧转头颅仰视苍穹，“直至无法恢复原状，只有液体能够通过扭曲变形的脖子进到胃里”；还有的用铁链锁在树下，如此终其一生，或者像蠕虫一样，用自己的躯体丈量帝国的广袤土地，或者单腿直立在柱子顶端——这些形形色色有意识的苦行赎罪行为，足以让人感到匪夷所思、惊诧不已，然而，我每天亲眼目睹的情形有过之而无不及。和我的邻居们所从事的劳役相比较而言，赫拉克勒斯〔2〕的十二项艰巨任务简直就是微不足道——因为那只不过是十二项任务而已，总有结束的时候；可是我从来没有见过邻居们杀死或捕获过什么怪兽，也没有看到他们做完过什么苦役。他们也没有像伊俄拉斯这样的朋友来助其一臂之力，用火红的烙铁灼烧九头蛇的残颈，而是刚刚砍掉一个蛇头，立刻就有两个冒出来。

我见到过一些年轻人，那些和我住在同一个镇子里的人，他们继承了农庄、屋舍、谷仓、牲畜，还有农具，这对他们来说是一种不幸：因为这些东西得来容易，舍弃可就难了。他们倒还不如降生在空旷的牧场上，让狼来哺育他们，这样，他们也许能够更清楚地意识到，他们是被召唤到什么样的田地上来劳作。是谁使得他们成了土地的奴隶？为什么他们能够享受60英亩土地的供养，而有些人命中注定只能含垢忍辱？为什么他们刚刚降临人世就开始自掘坟墓呢？他们不得不度过人的一生，推着所有这些东西一路前行，尽其所能生活得好一些。我遇到过多少令人怜悯而又永世无绝的灵魂啊，他们不堪生活的重负，几乎被压垮、窒息而死，他们在人生之路上艰难爬行，推着一座75英尺长40英尺宽的大谷仓，一个从未清扫过的奥吉亚斯牛圈〔3〕，还有100英亩土地——耕地、牧草地、牧场和林地！那些没有产业可以继承的人，倒是无需费心竭力地载负这种多余的身外之累，不过，他们为了几立方英尺的血肉之躯，已经够委曲求全，含辛茹苦了。

然而，人的艰苦劳作总是错误所致。一个人生命中的大部分光阴都在转瞬间被犁进泥土，化作了肥料。正如一本古书中所说，他们往往被一种似是而非，通常被称作“必然”的命运所支配，靠劳作积累起财富，结果却遭到虫蛀锈蚀，乃至招致贼人破门而入，偷窃一空〔4〕。这是一种愚蠢的生活——人生在世倘若对此不甚明了，等到弥留之际他们终会大彻大悟。据说，丢卡利翁和皮拉在创造人类的时候，是把石头从头顶上方丢到身后〔5〕，诗曰——

从此人类成为坚韧物种，历尽千辛万苦，

向我们证实我们的出处。〔6〕

罗利也用铿锵有力的语调作出回应——

从此我们善良的心灵坚硬如铁石，

证明我们的身躯具有岩石一般的品质。

原来人的创造不过是盲目服从一个大错特错的神谕——将一块块石头从头顶上方丢到身后，也不去看落在何处。

大多数人，即使生活在这个相对自由的国家里，纯粹由于无知和错误，为生活中人为的烦恼和没完没了的粗鄙活计而终日忙忙碌碌，因而无法采摘更为美好的生命果实——他们的手指由于过度劳作而变得笨拙僵硬，颤抖不止，根本无法做到。实际上，日复一日，劳作之人根本没有空闲让自己拥有真正完整的人生；他无法和他人保持最为高尚的关系；他的劳动在市场上总会贬值。除了充当一架机器，他没有时间去担当任何其他角色。那些迫不得已经常运用自己的知识的人，怎么能够清楚地记得自己的无知呢？——而这正是他成长所需要的。在评说他们之前，我们有时候应该让他们不花分文吃饱穿暖，并且用滋补品帮助他们恢复体力。我们天性中最美好的品质，犹如果实上的粉霜，唯有百般小心才能保存下来。然而，我们对待自己或者彼此相待却难得有如此的柔情。

我们都知道，你们中间有些人家境贫寒，觉得生活甚为艰辛，有时候甚至可以说是艰于呼吸。我毫不怀疑，本书的读者之中，有的无钱偿付吃下的每一餐饭，衣服鞋子很快就会磨损残破或者已经变得褴褛不堪，好容易忙里偷闲，才能读几页文字，这片刻时间还是从债主那里偷借而来。你们这许多人过得是何等卑贱、畏缩的生活啊，这是显而易见的，因为生活阅历已经使我的眼光变得敏锐起来；你们总是挣扎在人生的边缘，进退维谷，想靠做生意来还债，这可是一个自古就有的泥沼，拉丁文称之为aes alienum，所谓别人的铜币——因为他们的钱币有些就是铜铸的；你们就在别人的铜币中生存、死亡、埋葬；你们总是许诺偿还债务，明天就偿还，结果明日复明日，直到死在今天，债务仍然没有了断；你们靠阿谀逢迎求取恩惠，除了会带来牢狱之灾的作奸犯科之事，不知用了多少手段；你们谎话连篇、溜须拍马、投票选举，把自己蜷缩在谦恭有礼的硬壳里，或者自我吹嘘，摆出一副空洞虚幻的慷慨模样，这样一来，也许就能让邻居信任你，愿意让你给他们做鞋子、帽子、衣服或者马车，为他们代购食品杂货；你们攒钱防病，结果却落得疾病缠身——你们把钱藏在旧箱子里或灰泥墙面后头的袜子里，或者为了更保险起见，把钱存入砖墙垒砌的银行里；不管藏在哪里，也不管数目是多是少。

有时候，我很是疑惑不解，我禁不住要说，我们何以如此轻率，竟然干起那罪恶昭著、违背常理的勾当来了，那就是奴役黑人；不论是在南方还是在北方，都有为数众多的精明狡诈的奴隶主。南方监工让人不堪忍受；北方的监工带来的灾难更为深重；但最可怕的情形莫过于你是自己最苛刻的监工。居然奢谈什么人的神圣！看那大路上的车夫，正日夜兼程赶往交易市场，他的心中会激荡着一丝一毫神圣的感情吗？他的最高职责就是给马匹饮水喂草，仅此而已！比起货运所得的利益，他的个人命运算得了什么呢？难道他不是在为一位富绅赶车吗？他有什么神圣可言，又有什么不朽可言？你看他，一副畏畏缩缩、偷偷摸摸的样子，一天到晚隐隐地提心吊胆，哪里谈得上什么神圣和不朽，只不过是自我评价的奴隶和囚徒，以及用自己的行为赢得名声的奴隶和囚徒而已。和我们对自己的看法相比，公众舆论不过是一个软弱无力的暴君。一个人如何看待自己，这决定了或者说预示了他自己的命运。即使是在西印度群岛的各个殖民地，就心灵和思想的自我解放而言，有哪个威尔伯福斯〔7〕能够有所作为呢？再来想想这个国家的妇女，末日即将来临之时，她们还在编织着梳妆用的坐垫，似乎对自己的命运毫不关心！仿佛消磨时日丝毫无损于永恒。

芸芸众生在静默无声的绝望中度日。所谓听天由命即是根深蒂固的绝望。你从绝望的城市走向绝望的乡村，不得不用水貂和麝鼠的勇敢来安慰自己。即使在人类所谓的游戏和娱乐背后，也潜藏着一种固定不变、不知不觉的绝望。这其中也没有什么乐趣可言，因为工作之余才谈得上乐趣。然而，不做绝望的事情，才是智慧的特征。

当我们用问答的形式，来探究何为人生的宗旨，以及什么是生活真正的需要和方式的时候，人类仿佛经过一番深思熟虑，选择了这种共同的生活方式，原因是他们更喜欢这种方式。而他们也确实认为自己别无选择。但是，头脑清醒、身心健康的人都不会忘记——太阳升起，天地一片清朗。放弃偏见，永远不会为时过晚。任何一种思维或行为方式，不论多么年深日久，如果不经过证实，就不能轻易相信。今天人人附和或者默认的真理，明天有可能会被证实为谬误，犹如虚无缥缈的一片氤氲，却被某些人当作云朵，以为能够化作滋润田野的雨露。年老之人认定办不到的事情，你尝试过后，发现是能够做到的。老人有老一套，新人有新作为。老辈人恐怕不曾知道添加新燃料可以让火焰经久不息，而新的一代则将少许干柴放在锅底下，就可以像飞鸟一般绕着地球旋转，正如谚语所云：“气死古人。”上年纪的人并不比年轻人更能胜任传道授业的角色，甚至比年轻人还稍逊一筹，因为随着年龄的增长，他们的所失大于所得。我们几乎可以质疑，即便是最具有智慧的人，究竟能否从自己的人生阅历中得到任何绝对有价值的东西。实际上，老辈人没有任何至关重要的忠告可以给予年轻人，他们一定心知肚明——由于种种个人原因，他们自己的经验不过是一孔之见，他们的一生无非是惨痛的失败；也许他们还存有一些与自己的经历不一致的信念，可是他们已经不再拥有往昔的青春岁月了。我已经在这个星球上生活了大约三十个年头，时至今日，我从未从长辈那里听到一句有价值的忠告，甚而连热诚的忠告都没有。就此而言，他们未曾告诉我任何东西，也许是无能为力吧。这就是生活，一个我在很大程度上还没有尝试过的实验；他们已经尝试过了，可对我来说毫无裨益。如果我得出任何自认为有价值的经验，我肯定会反思一下，得出的结果是，我的前辈导师谁都不曾提起过。

有个农夫对我说：“你不能光靠蔬菜为生，因为蔬菜提供不了骨骼所需的营养。”因此，每天他都虔诚地献出一部分时间，为他的身体提供骨骼所需的养分；他一面跟在耕牛后面，一面如此说道，而那靠植物发育起骨骼的耕牛，却不顾一切障碍，拖着他和笨重的犁头颠簸前行。某些物品，对于某个特定的人群来说——比如那些无依无靠和病魔缠身的人，的确是生活必需品，对另一个群体来说，则仅仅是奢侈品而已，再换一个群体，兴许闻所未闻。

在某些人看来，人生的全部，无论是高原险峰还是幽深低谷，都是先辈所涉足过的，而且所有的一切都得到了他们的瞩目。伊夫林〔8〕曾经说过：“智慧的所罗门曾颁布法令，规定了树木之间应当间隔的距离；罗马的地方官也曾规定过，你可以时隔多久到邻人的地里捡拾掉落的橡果，而不被认定为非法进入，并规定了几成果实应当归属那位邻人。”希波克拉底〔9〕甚至曾经传下如何修剪指甲的方法；也就是说，要剪得既不长也不短，与指尖平齐。毫无疑问，使生命的多姿多彩和无穷欢乐都消耗殆尽的种种单调乏味和枯燥无聊，是和亚当〔10〕一样古老的。但是，人的各种能力从来没有被衡量过，我们也不能按照任何先例来判断他的能力，因为已有的尝试实在太少。不管到目前为止你有过怎样的失败，“别苦恼，我的孩子，谁会指派你去做你未曾完成的事情呢？”〔11〕

我们可以用上千种简单的方法来尝试我们的生活；比方说，太阳使我们种植的豆类生长成熟，同时也照耀着和地球同类的其他星体。如果我们牢记这一点，就能避免某些错误。星星，是多么奇妙的三角形的顶点啊！在宇宙的各个地方，有多少相距遥远、形形色色的生命在同一时刻注视着同一个太阳！大自然和人生是千姿百态的，就像我们的体制一样不一而足。谁能说得出，生活会给其他人提供什么样的前景呢？对于我们来说，难道还有比转瞬之间通过彼此的眼睛去观察事物更伟大的奇迹吗？我们应该在短短一个小时之内历经这个世界的所有时代；是的，还要体验所有时代的每一个世界。历史、诗歌、神话！——据我所知，阅读别人的生活经历，从来没有如此令人惊异，如此增长见闻。

我的邻居称之为好的大部分事情，我在内心深处都觉得不以为然；而如果我为什么事情感到懊悔的话，那很可能是我的善行。是何种魔怪攫住了我，让我有如此善良的品行？老人家，您尽可以说出最睿智的话语——您已经生活了七十个年头，而且并非没有人生的荣耀——而我却听到了一个不可抗拒的声音，让我避开这一切。一代人抛弃另一代人的事业，如同遗弃搁浅的船只。

在我看来，我们完全可以毫无顾虑地相信更多的事情——比我们实际上相信的要多得多。我们可以对自己少一点关心，这样就可以真心实意地把这部分关爱施予他人。大自然既能适应我们的长处，也能适应我们的缺点。有些人总是没完没了地焦虑不安、忧虑重重，这几乎成了一种难以治愈的顽疾。我们生来就喜欢夸大自己所做工作的重要性，然而，有多少工作我们从未涉足啊！或者说，如果我们疾病缠身，又该如何呢？我们有多么警醒啊！如果能够避免，我们就决计不靠信仰生活；从早到晚，我们都戒心十足，到了夜深人静的时候则毫不情愿地祈祷一番，把自己交付给未知的命运。我们迫不得已，在生活中只能如此细致周到、诚心诚意，对人生充满敬畏之心，而否认变革的可能。我们说，这是唯一的生活之道；然而，从一个圆心出发，能画出多少条半径，就有多少种生活之道。所有的变革都是值得我们沉思默想的奇迹，而且这样的奇迹每时每刻都在发生。孔子曰：“知之为知之，不知为不知，是知也。”当一个人将他想象的情况归纳为他所了解的事实时，我可以预见，所有的人最终都将把自己的生活建立在这个基础之上。

让我们来思考一下，我在上面所提到的烦恼和忧虑大多是由何而发？有多少需要我们费心劳神，或者说至少是应该小心应付的？虽然我们生活在物质文明世界里，但是去过一过那种原始的拓荒生活，对我们来说是大有益处的，哪怕只是为了弄清楚哪些是生活的基本必需品，以及用什么方法可以获得，或者只是为了查看一下商人的旧账本，好知道人们在商店里最常买的是些什么，店里都储备哪些货品，也就是说，人们所需求的最基本的日用杂货有哪些。时代的进步对人类生存的基本法则并没有多大影响，正如我们的骨骼同我们的祖先相比，恐怕是难以区分的。

所谓生活必需品，在我看来，就是人类通过自己的努力获得的一切物品，从一开始，或者经过长期使用，已经成为人类生活的重要一环——没有哪个人试图舍弃这些东西，即使有，也是极少数的几个，他们或者是处于未开化的荒蛮状态，或者是由于贫困潦倒，或者是秉承某种人生哲学。对于许多生命而言，在这个意义上，人生必需品只有一种，那就是：食物。草原上的野牛，需要的仅仅是几英寸长的鲜美青草，还有饮用水，除此之外也就是在森林或者山荫寻求一处掩蔽之所而已。野兽需要的仅仅是食物和蔽身之处。对于人类而言，在目前的气候条件下，生活必需品可以确切地分为以下几项：食物、住所、衣服和燃料；因为我们只有获取这些必需品，才能满怀成功的期望，自由地思考人生的真正问题。人类不仅发明了屋舍，而且还发明了衣服和烹饪方法；也许是出于偶然，人类发现火能够带来温暖，于是就开始加以利用，起初是一种奢侈的享受，如今烤火取暖则成了一种必需。据我们观察，猫和狗也同样获得了这个第二天性。有了适当的住所和衣服，我们才能合理地保持体内的温度；如果穿着过多，住所太热，或者取暖的火烧得太旺，也就是说，外面的热度超过了我们体内的热度，那岂不成了炙烤人肉？自然科学家达尔文在提及火地岛居民的时候说，他和一伙人穿戴整齐坐在篝火旁都不觉得暖和，与此同时，他惊奇地发现，远离篝火的那些野蛮人赤身裸体，却还“被烘烤得汗流浃背”。我们还听说，新荷兰人〔12〕赤裸着身体，个个安然无恙，而欧洲人穿着衣服，却冻得浑身颤抖。难道野蛮人的耐性和文明人的智慧就不能结合起来吗？按照李比希〔13〕的说法，人的身体是一个火炉，而食物则是燃料，维持肺部的内燃。寒冷的天气我们吃得多，热天则吃得少。动物体内产生的热量是缓慢燃烧的结果，如果燃烧速度过快，就会产生疾病，造成死亡；反之，如果缺少燃料，或者通风不畅，生命之火就会熄灭。当然，生命的热量和火焰不能混为一谈，我们的比喻就到此为止吧。因此，综上所述，动物生命和动物热量这两个词语几乎是同义词；因为食物可以被看作是维持我们的生命之火经久不息的燃料，而燃料只能煮熟食物或者从身体外部为我们增加御寒的热量；住所和衣服的作用也只是保持由此产生和吸收的热量。

那么，对我们的身体来说，最大的需求是保持温暖，维持体内的热量。如此一来，我们不辞辛苦地获取食物、衣服和住所，还有床铺——那是我们夜晚的衣服，为此，我们从鸟儿的巢窠和它们的胸部攫取羽毛，来营造这个遮蔽所中的遮蔽所，就像鼹鼠在洞穴的尽头用杂草和树叶铺设一张床！穷苦人总是抱怨这是个冷冰冰的世界；我们总是把自己的大部分疾痛直接归咎于寒冷——身体的冰冷和社会的冷漠。在某些气候条件下，夏天有可能让人过上一种天堂般的生活。除了煮熟食物之外，燃料并非是必需之物；太阳就是他们的火，许多果实在阳光的照射下已经熟透了；一般来说，食物的种类更加丰富，也更容易获得，衣服和住所则完全成了多余之物，或者说只有一半的用处了。我从自己的经历中发现，目前，在这个国家，除了生活必需品以外，人们还需要几件工具、一把刀、一柄斧子、一把铲子、一辆手推车，就足够了，对于勤奋好学的人，还需要灯盏、文具，再加上几本书，这些东西的花费也是微不足道的。然而，有些人却不够明智，他们跑到地球的另一边，死心塌地地在不益于身体健康的荒蛮之地做起生意，足足在那里度过十年二十年，目的就是为了谋生——也就是说，能够生活得温暖舒适一点，到头来，却死在了新英格兰。奢侈的有钱人不单是追求温暖舒适，而是不合乎自然规律的炎热；正如我在前面所说的那样，他们是被炙烤着，那当然是一种时尚的炙烤。

大多数奢侈品，以及许许多多所谓使生活更加舒适的物品，非但不是必不可少的，而且还会阻碍人类精神的提升。要论奢侈和舒适，最明智的人反倒比穷人的生活过得更简单，更朴素。古代中国、印度、波斯和希腊的哲学家都是这样一类人，他们物质财富最为贫乏而精神财富最为丰富。我们对他们了解得固然不多，但令人惊叹的是，我们了解得竟然也还不少。近代的改革家和各个民族的造福者亦是如此。唯有我们可以称之为安贫乐道的人，只有处在这种优势地位来观察人类生活，才是不偏不倚、而又充满智慧的观察者。奢侈生活产生的结果是奢侈，不论是在农业、商业，还是文学艺术方面，都是如此。当下有的是哲学教授，却没有哲学家。教授是令人仰慕的，因为教授的生活曾经一度令人羡慕不已。做一名哲学家不仅仅要有深邃的思想，也不仅仅要建立一个学派，而是要热爱智慧，并且按照智慧的指引，过一种简单、自立、宽厚大度和彼此信任的生活。做一名哲学家，不仅要从理论上，而且要在实践中解决生活中的某些问题。那些卓越的学者和思想家，他们的成就通常类似于朝臣的功绩，而不是帝王或者男子汉创立的丰功伟业。他们因循守旧，藉此来应付生活，可以说，他们的所作所为和父辈别无二致，绝不会成为更为高尚的人类先驱。但是，人类为什么会退化？究竟是什么致使家道衰落？奢侈具有何种本性，能够使国家萎靡不振，走向衰亡？我们能够肯定在我们的生活中不存在这种奢侈吗？即使在生活的外在表现形式上，哲学家也领先于他所处的时代。他的饮食起居、穿衣取暖都有别于同代人。一个人既是哲学家，怎会没有更好的方法来维持其生命的热量呢？

当一个人通过上述几种方法获得了维持生命的热量，接下来他想要些什么？当然不会是获得更多的热量，比方说，更多更丰盛的食物、更宽敞更华美的屋舍、更漂亮更丰富的衣着、更持久更炽热的炉火，诸如此类。一旦得到了这些生活必需品，一个人就不会再求取更多同样的东西，而是有了另一种选择，那就是，摆脱卑微的辛苦劳作，可以开始人生的探险了。土壤看来是适合种子发育的，因为它已经让根向下延伸，现在可以信心十足地向上萌发幼苗了。人为什么要牢牢地根植于土壤，不就是为了能够同样向空中蓬勃生长吗？——因为更高贵的植物，其价值就在于最终在远离地面的空气和阳光中结出果实，人们不会把它们同比较低级的食用植物相提并论，尽管这些植物可能是两年生的，即便如此也只会被培植到生好根之后，为此还常常被割去顶端的枝叶，所以，到了开花时节，人们大多都认不出它们来了。

我无意给勇敢坚毅之人订立什么条条框框，他们无论身处天堂还是地狱，都会应对裕如，独善其身，或许他们的屋舍比大富大贵之人的住所还要富丽堂皇，花起钱来更是肆意挥霍，但从来不会落得穷困潦倒，真不知道他们是怎样生活的——如果诚如人们梦寐以求的那样，确实有这样的人存在；我也无意给那些从现实事物中获得鼓舞，汲取灵感的人制定什么规则，他们对现实倍加珍爱，怀有情人一般的爱恋和热情——在某种程度上，我自忖也属于这一类人；那些无论身处何种环境都能安居乐业的人，也用不着我说些什么，他们对自己的生活状况心中有数；我的话主要是说给那些不甚满足的多数人听的，他们无所事事，总是抱怨命运蹇劣，生不逢时，而他们的命运和时代本来是有可能改善的。有些人遇事叫苦不迭，让人无可奈何，因为，如他们自己所言，他们做到尽职尽责了。我还想到了一类人，他们从表面上看仿佛十分阔绰，而实际上却最为贫穷，他们积累了大量无用之物，却不知道如何使用，或者如何舍弃，如此一来，反倒给自己铸造了一副金银制成的镣铐。

如果我试图将自己在过去几年中希望如何度过生命岁月的愿望说出来，恐怕对我的实际情况有所了解的读者会感到惊奇，而对我一无所知的读者则会惊讶万分。因此，我只略提几件我珍藏于心的事情吧。

在任何天气，任何时候，无论是黑夜还是白昼，我都殷切地希望改善目前的状况，在自己的手杖上刻下它的印记；我渴望站在过去和未来这两个永恒的交汇点上，那就是此时此刻，站在这道起跑线上。请原谅我说得有些晦涩难懂，因为我的职业比大多数人的职业都有着更多的秘密，并非我刻意保守秘密，而是这个职业的性质所决定的。我很乐意将我所知晓的一切全盘托出，绝不会在门口涂上“不得入内”的字样。

很久以前，我曾丢失了一条猎犬、一匹栗色马，还有一只斑鸠，至今我还在寻找它们的下落。我曾向许多来来往往的人说起过它们，描述它们的踪迹，还提到它们会对什么样的呼唤声作出回应。我遇到过一两个人，他们曾听到猎犬的吠声和栗色马的蹄音，甚至看见过那只斑鸠隐没在云朵里。他们看上去也急切地希望能够尽快将它们找回来，就好像是他们自己丢失的一般。

我们不仅要期待日出和黎明，如果可能的话，我们要期盼整个大自然！多少个清晨，无论是严冬还是盛夏，所有的邻居还没有起身开始操持生计的时候，我就已经开始为自己的事情忙碌了。毫无疑问，许多和我住在同一个镇子里的人都曾经在我回来的路上遇到过我，他们中间有天刚蒙蒙亮就赶往波士顿的农民，也有去干活的樵夫。不错，我并没有在旭日东升的时候切切实实助它一臂之力，不过，在太阳冉冉升起的时候身临其境，其重要意义无疑是仅次于前者的。

有多少个秋日，哦，还有冬天，我都是在镇子外面度过的，我试图听出风声带来的讯息，并且立刻传播开去！为此，我几乎投入了所有的资本，为了这笔交易，我迎风奔跑，气喘吁吁。如果是和两大政党相关的消息，一定会最先在报纸上刊登。还有些时候，我守在某个山崖或者树顶的瞭望台上，一有新来的人就发电报传递信息；黄昏时分，我守候在山顶上，等待夜幕降临，好捕获点儿什么，虽然所得不多，而且这不多的东西也和天赐的食物〔14〕一样，会在阳光下消融殆尽。

有很长一段时间，我给一家发行量不大的杂志当记者，我写的大部分稿件，在编辑看来都是不适合刊载的，所以，正如作家通常遇到的情况那样，我的一番辛苦换来的是自己的劳动。然而，在这件事情上，我的辛苦本身就是回报。

许多年来，我自封为视察员，留意观察暴风雪和暴风雨，可谓忠于职守；我还兼任检查员，不是检查公路，就是检查林间小径和所有的交叉通道，保持道路畅通无阻，让架设在沟壑上的桥梁一年四季都可以通行，人来人往的足迹证明了它们的作用。

我还照看过镇子里那些容易受惊的家畜，它们常常跳出栅栏，给尽职尽责的牧人带来不少麻烦；我时时留意农场上人迹罕至的角角落落；约那斯或所罗门今天是否在哪块田地里干活，对此我并非总是一清二楚，因为那与我毫不相干。我浇灌过红色的黑果木、沙樱、荨麻树、红松、黑枘树和白葡萄，还有黄色的紫罗兰，要不然在干旱季节它们有可能会枯萎凋残。

简而言之，可以毫不夸口地说，我这样度过了很长一段时间，兢兢业业尽自己的本分，直到后来事情越来越显而易见，那就是，和我住在同一个镇子里的人终究不会把我算入市政官员的行列，也不会给我一个挂名的职务，奉送一份不多不少的津贴。我可以信誓旦旦地说，我的账目一向记得准确无误，不过从来没有人审查过，更不用说有人认可并且照单付钱结账了。话说回来，我也从来没有如此奢望。

不久前，一个四处游荡的印第安人来到我的住所附近一位著名的律师家兜售篮子。“你们想要篮子吗？”他问道。对方回答说：“不要，我们一个也不要。”“什么？！”印第安人一边往外走，一边大声嚷道：“你们打算让我们活活饿死吗？”这个印第安人亲眼目睹了他那些勤劳的白人邻居生活得何等富裕，那些人只需要把辩词编排好，财富和地位就会随之而来，简直像变魔术一般，于是他心里暗想，我也去做生意，我要编篮子，这件事我能干得来。他以为编好篮子就大功告成了，接下来白人自会买去。可是，他却疏漏了一点，那就是，他的篮子要想卖给别人必须物有所值，或者至少让对方认为如此，要么就做点儿别的什么让人家觉得物有所值的东西。我也曾经编织过一种精巧细致的篮子，但是却没有使任何人感觉值得购买。然而，就我而言，我并不觉得自己编织这些篮子是枉费功夫，我没有去研究如何让人感觉物有所值，而是去研究如何避免迫不得已去兜售篮子。人们大加赞誉、谓之成功的人生只不过是生活中的一种。我们为什么要夸大任何一种生活方式而无视其他呢？

眼见我的市民同胞们不大可能在县政府大楼里为我谋得一席之地，也不会给我一个助理牧师的职位，或是其他什么可以赖以谋生的位置，我于是只好自己设法安身立命，比过去更加一心一意地将目光转向森林，那个我更为人所知的地方。我决定立刻开始自己的营生，不等拿到通常所需的资金，就用现有的微薄财力着手进行。我到瓦尔登湖的目的，既不是为了过花费低廉的生活，也不是贪图奢侈，而是为了从事自己的私人营生，最大限度地减少各种麻烦，免得因为略微缺乏常识，稍稍欠缺进取精神和经营才能而一事无成，结果是显得愚蠢至极更甚于可悲。

我一直坚持不懈地努力养成严谨的商业习惯；这对任何人来说都是必不可少的。倘若你是和天朝帝国〔15〕做生意，那么只要在海岸边上有一间小小的会计室，比方位于塞勒姆的某个港口，就具备足够的固定设施了。你可以出口本国出产的物品，清一色的土特产，大量的冰块、松木和少批量的花岗岩，统统用本地货轮装运。出口这些货物，生意一定不错。事无巨细，你都要亲自过问；你既是领航员又是船长，既是业主又是保险商；你要买进卖出，还要记账；收到的每一封信都要亲自过目，寄出一封信都要自己起草或审阅；你得日夜监督进口货物卸下船只，仿佛有分身术一般几乎同时出现在沿海的许多地方——最值钱的货物往往卸在泽西的口岸，你自己得像发报机一样，不知疲倦地扫掠地平线，和所有驶向海港的船只通话联络；为了供应这样一个相距遥远、需求极盛的市场，你需要保证货物源源不断地发送；你不仅要对市场行情了如指掌，还要了解各地战争与和平的前景，预期贸易与文明发展的趋势，为此，你要利用一切探险考察的成果，借助于新航线和航海技术的一切进步——研究航海图，查明暗礁和新设灯塔及浮标的位置，时时校正对数表，因为计算稍有疏漏，本应抵达一个友好港口的货船就会在礁石上撞个四分五裂——拉·贝鲁斯〔16〕下落不明就是一个实例；你还要跟上整个世界科学发展的步伐，研究从汉诺〔17〕和腓尼基人时代直到今天的所有伟大的发现者、航海家、冒险家以及商人的生平；最后，你还要随时掌握库存数量，清楚自己处于何种境况。这是一项需要全力以赴的工作，诸如盈亏、利息、净重计算法等各种各样的问题，以及所有相关数据的测量，都需要具备广博的知识。

我认为瓦尔登湖会是一个做生意的好地方，这不仅仅是因为有铁路和冰块生意；瓦尔登湖提供了诸多有利条件，公诸于众恐怕并非明智之举；这是个优良的港口，地基很牢固。虽然所到之处都必须先打桩才能建造房屋，可毕竟没有涅瓦河畔那样的沼泽需要填平。据说涅瓦河涨潮的时候，如果再加上西风和冰块，会将圣彼得堡从地球表面一扫而空。

由于我开始从事这种生意没有通常所需的启动资金，因此，恐怕人们很难推测，我从哪里能够得到每个这样的事业都必不可少的财源。让我们立刻就来谈及实际问题吧，就拿衣服来说，也许人们购买衣物的时候，多半是喜欢新颖奇特的装束，并且还会顾及别人的看法，而很少考虑衣服的真正用途。让那些从事劳动的人不要忘记，穿衣服的目的，首先是要维持生命的热量，其次，是要在目前的社会环境中遮羞蔽体；他还可以判断一下，他可以完成多少必不可少或至关重要的工作，而不必增加衣橱里的衣服。国王和王后的衣装往往只穿一次，尽管有御用裁缝为他们量身定做，他们也不可能体会到穿上合身的衣服有多么舒适自如。他们简直无异于用来挂干净衣物的木头架子。而我们穿的衣服逐日和我们融为一体，打上了穿着者的性格印记，直到我们不舍得弃之一旁，就像对待自己的身体一样赶快求医问药进行补救，视作非同小可之事。在我眼里，衣服上有补丁，并非低人一等；不过我也深信，一般来说，人们更为渴盼的是穿上时髦的衣装，起码要干净整洁，没有补丁，至于是否能够做到问心无愧就是等而次之的问题了。不过，即使衣服上破了的地方没有补好，充其量也不过是显得不够小心而已。有时候，我用这样的方法来测试我熟识的朋友：谁肯穿一条膝盖上打了补丁，或者只多了两条缝线的裤子？从大多数人的反应来看，他们认为，倘若他们如此穿着，一生的前程就会毁于一旦。他们宁可跛着一条腿进城去，也比穿条破裤子来得从容自若。如果哪位绅士的腿意外受了伤，那通常是可以治愈的；不过，如果同样的意外发生在他的裤腿上，那就无法补救了，因为他所关注的，不是真正值得尊敬的东西，而是人们看重的东西。我们熟知的人寥寥无几，我们熟知的衣服和裤子倒是不可胜数。你给稻草人穿上你刚穿过的衣服，自己不着衣衫站立一旁，谁不会甘愿向稻草人行礼致敬呢？某一天，我经过一片玉米地，见有一人站在一根戴着帽子穿着上衣的木桩近旁，我认出他正是农场的主人。和上次见到他相比，他只不过是多了几许饱经风霜的痕迹。我听说有一条狗，凡是看到穿着衣服的陌生人走到主人的屋舍前，就会大声狂吠，但是，一个赤身裸体的盗贼却能轻而易举地让它一声不响。如果人们被剥夺了衣衫，他们在多大程度上还能保持相对的地位？——这是个有趣的问题。在这种情况下，你能否确切地告诉我，在任何一群文明人之中，谁当属于最尊贵的阶层？菲菲夫人〔18〕从东到西环游世界，在她的冒险旅行中，当她来到俄罗斯的亚洲区域，自己的故乡已经近在咫尺的时候，她说，她觉得去拜见地方长官之时，有必要换下旅行服，因为她“现在身处一个文明的国度，人们是靠穿着来判断一个人的。”即使在我们这个具有民主精神的新英格兰城镇里，但凡有人发了意外之财，于是便尽显奢华，哪怕仅仅表现在穿着和用具上，也能为其赢得众人的敬慕。不过，这些敬慕之人虽然为数众多，却全都是异教徒，需要为他们派去一名传教士。此外，衣服需要缝纫，而缝纫可谓是一件无休无止的工作；至少可以说，女人的衣服从来没有做完的时候。

一个最终找到营生的人，去做事情的时候本无需让衣装焕然一新；对他来说，有一套在阁楼里不知放了多久的落满灰尘的旧衣服就足矣。一位英雄穿旧鞋子的时间，倒比他的侍从穿旧鞋子的时间更长——如果英雄有侍从的话；他赤足而行的岁月比穿鞋子的年头还要久远，而且英雄就是不穿鞋子也未尝不可。只有那些要去赴晚宴或者到立法院去的人才有必要身着新装，他们经常更换衣服，正如穿衣服的人也频繁更替一般。但是，只要我的上衣和裤子，帽子和鞋子，穿戴整齐后正适于敬奉上帝，那就足够了，难道不是如此吗？有谁会去注意他的旧衣服呢？他那件旧外套其实已经破旧不堪，褴褛毕露，因此，就是将它送给一个穷苦的孩子也算不得什么善行，也许那个孩子还会把它转送给比自己更穷的人，或许应该说是更富有的人，因为哪怕生活再匮乏他都能够安身立命。听我说，对那些要求衣冠簇新而不是要求穿衣服的人是新面孔的所有企业一定要小心提防。如果没有新人，又怎么可能把新衣服做得合体呢？如果你正面临着某项事业，尽管穿着旧衣服去尝试吧。人所需要的，不是去应对什么，而是去做什么，或者说，是成为什么。也许，无论旧衣服有多脏多破，我们也根本不该添置新衣服，直到我们致力于自己的事业，锐意进取，或者扬帆远航，那时即使身着旧衣，整个人也会感觉仿佛焕然一新，犹如旧瓶装上了新酒。人的更新季节，如同飞禽换羽一般，必定是生命的转折关头。正当其时，潜鸟会隐没到僻静的池塘。蛇蜕皮，虫破茧，都是凭借内在的努力和扩展；衣装之于我们，不过是最外层的护膜和尘世的烦恼而已。否则，我们就会被认为是披着一层伪饰招摇撞骗，最终难免被我们自己以及整个人类的看法所唾弃。

我们穿了一件又一件衣服，就仿佛我们是外生植物，得靠外部添加才能得以生存。我们穿在外面的衣物通常很薄，并且花里胡哨，它们是我们的表皮或假皮，和我们的生命并非一体，可以随处剥下而无致命的伤害；我们经常穿在身上的较厚的衣服是我们的细胞壁，或皮层；但我们的衬衫却是我们的韧皮，或者说真皮，如要剥去定会连皮带肉，令人痛不欲生。我相信，在某些季节，所有物种都要穿上相当于衬衫的东西。理想的状况是：一个人应该穿得简简单单，这样就能够在黑暗中触到自己；他生活的方方面面都应该以简约为要，做到有备无患，假如敌人攻占了这个城镇，他能像古代哲学家那样无牵无挂地空手走出城门。多数情况下，一件厚衣服相当于三件薄衣服，顾客能够以合适的价格买到便宜的衣物；5美元就能买下一件厚外套，而且可以穿好多年，2美元可以买一条厚裤子，1.5美元可以买一双牛皮靴，25美分可以买一顶夏天的帽子，62.5美分可以买一顶冬天的帽子，或者花上微不足道的一点儿钱自己在家里做一顶更好的帽子；当他穿上自己靠辛劳得来的衣服，难道睿智之人会因为他贫穷至此而不向他表示敬重吗？

当我定做一件特别款式的衣服时，女裁缝一本正经地告诉我，“眼下他们已经不时兴这个款式了”，言语中丝毫不强调“他们”这个字眼儿，就仿佛在引用和命运三女神一样超然于物外的权威之辞；我发现很难得到自己想要的款式，仅仅因为她不相信我说的话是当真的，不相信我竟会如此轻率。听到她这神谕一般的话语，我一时陷入深思，反复掂量她说的每一个字，以便悟出其中的含意，找出“我”和“他们”之间究竟有何种程度的亲缘关系，以及在这件与我紧密相关的事情上，他们究竟有何种权威；最后，我想用同样充满奥秘的语言来回答她，而且也不强调那个“他们”——“不错，他们这阵子不时兴这个款式，不过现在又开始流行了。”如果她为我量体裁衣，只是量我的肩宽，而不去量我的品格，仿佛我是个衣服架子，这又有何用？我们所崇拜的不是美惠三女神〔19〕，也不是命运三女神〔20〕，而是时尚女神。她纺纱、织布、剪裁，威力十足。巴黎的猴子王戴上了一顶旅游帽，美国的猴子全都纷纷效仿。有时候，我深感绝望，不相信在这个世界上，有什么简单明了的事情能够在人们的帮助下顺利做成。首先，务必要用一个强有力的压榨机，把他们头脑中的陈腐观念榨出来，让那些旧观念不能即刻复苏，在这之后，他们中间总有人脑子里有什么怪念头蠢蠢欲动，从不知何时就存在那里的一个卵壳里孵化出来，即使用烈火焚烧也难以断绝，你的努力因此而前功尽弃。不过，我们也不要忘记，埃及有一种小麦，据说就是一具木乃伊传下来的。

总而言之，不论是在本国还是异国，都不能断言服饰已经上升到在艺术上备受尊崇的地位。目前，人们通常是有什么就穿什么，就像遇难的水手漂到岸边，在海滩上随便找到什么就穿在身上，为各自的衣着在时间和空间的差异而彼此取笑。每一代人都会嘲笑老式样的装束，而虔诚地追随新潮款式。看到亨利八世或伊丽莎白女王的服装，我们会像看到食人岛上的国王和王后的衣着一样，禁不住哑然失笑。任何服饰一旦离开人就会显得可怜巴巴，滑稽古怪。任何人的衣着，唯有透射出的严肃的目光，经历过真诚的生活，才能抑制人们的嘲笑，从而显得神圣起来。衣着色彩斑斓的小丑突然腹内一阵绞痛，他的服饰也会表现出那种痛苦万状的情态。当士兵被炮弹击中，他那身破烂不堪的军装会显得如同王袍一般尊贵。

男男女女对于新款式的追求是那样幼稚而疯狂，有多少人摇晃着万花筒，眯着眼睛向里面观瞧，希望能够发现这一代人眼下所需要的那种独特的图案。生产者早已意识到人们的品味是反复无常的。譬如说，两种款式的区别仅在于某一种颜色的丝线深浅不同，其中之一会畅销一时，而另一种则摆在货架上无人问津，不过等到闲置了一季之后，后者反倒成了流行时尚，这种情况屡见不鲜。相比之下，文身倒算不得人们所谓的丑陋习俗。不能仅仅因为刺花深入皮肤，无法改变，就称之为野蛮。

我并不认为我们的工厂体制是人们获得衣装的最佳方式。技工的状况一天比一天更接近英国技工的状况；这一点也不足为奇，因为就我迄今为止耳闻目睹的情况而言，服装厂的主要目的不是为了让人们可以穿得舒适体面，而是为了赚钱，这是毫无疑问的。从长远来看，人最终达到的是他们预先设定的目标。因此，尽管他们一时受挫，但仍不妨把目标定得高远些。

至于住所，我并不否认现在已经成为一种生活必需品，尽管有实例说明，在气候更加寒冷的地区，人们长期没有住所也照样能够生活下去。塞缪尔·莱恩〔21〕说过：“拉普兰人〔22〕穿着皮衣，头和肩膀罩着皮袋，夜复一夜睡在雪地上，那种严寒就是身穿羊毛衣服也会被冻僵。”他亲眼看见拉普兰人就那样安然入睡。他还说：“他们并不比别的民族更耐寒。”但是，大概自从人类生活在地球上，没过多久就发现了房屋的便利，还有家庭的舒适，这种说法的原意可能是指住所带来的满足感，而不是其乐融融的家庭生活；然而，在某些气候地带，一提到房屋，人们就首先联想到寒冬和雨季，一年之中三分之二的时间根本用不着房屋，一把遮阳伞就足够了，因此，上述说法未免有失偏颇，而且只是偶尔适用罢了。在我们这里的气候条件下，以往到了夏天，只要有个遮盖就可以过夜。印第安人的表意符号中，一座棚屋代表一天的行程，树皮上刻画出的一排棚屋表示他们宿营的次数。人类的肢体并没有被造就得硕大强健，因此必须力求缩小自己的世界，用墙壁隔出一个适合自己的空间。起初人类赤身裸体，风餐露宿；赶上晴朗温暖的天气，白天还是很惬意的，但是到了雨季和冬天，更不要说炎炎烈日之下，如果不及早找个住所蔽护自己，人类恐怕早就灭绝在萌芽时代了。传说中的亚当和夏娃，在没有衣服可穿的时候用枝叶蔽体。人需要一个家，一个温暖舒适的地方，起初是寻求身体的温暖，然后是情感的温暖。

我们可以想象一下人类的幼年时代，某个富有冒险精神的人爬进岩洞去寻求遮蔽。从某种程度上说，每个孩子都会重复一遍人类的发展历程，他们喜欢待在户外，哪怕是阴雨和寒冷的天气。孩子们玩过家家和骑木马的游戏，都是出于人的本能。有谁不曾记得，自己小时候是怎样兴趣盎然地观看层层叠叠的岩石或是走近一个岩洞呢？这是一种出自本能的渴求，是我们最原始的祖先遗留在我们身上的烙印。从穴居开始，我们发展到用棕榈叶、树皮和树枝，用编织和绷紧的亚麻，用草叶和禾秆，用木板和木瓦，以及用石板和砖瓦建造屋顶。久而久之，我们忘记了露宿旷野的生活是何种感受，我们的生活远比自己想象的更加家庭化。壁炉和旷野，二者相去甚远。日日夜夜，如果我们能够更多地和宇宙天体毫无阻隔地彼此相望，如果诗人不是一味地在屋檐下吟唱，如果圣人不是久居在屋舍之内，也许一切都会好起来。鸟儿不在岩洞里歌唱，鸽子也不在笼舍里呵护自己的纯真无瑕。

然而，如果有人打算建造一座住所，他理所当然会表现出一点儿新英格兰人的精明，免得到头来发现自己住在一个劳教所、一座没有线索的迷宫、一家博物馆、一个救济院、一座监狱，或是一座富丽堂皇的陵墓里。首先要考虑到，这样的住所，其绝对必要性是微乎其微的。就在这个城镇里，我曾经见过佩诺布斯科特印第安人〔23〕居住在薄棉布帐篷里，四周的积雪竟然厚达一英尺，我想他们倒是希望雪能更深一些，好给他们遮风挡寒。如何能够真诚地生活，无拘无束地从事自己的正当事业，比之于现在，这个问题过去更是令我困惑不已，而如今我已经变得有些麻木了，真是不幸之至。以前，我经常看到铁路边上有一个6英尺长3英尺宽的大箱子，夜里工人们把工具锁在里面，我由此想到，每一个生活艰辛的人都可以花上1美元买一个这样的箱子，钻上几个孔，至少可以透透气，这样一来，下雨天和晚间就可以钻进去，把箱盖关拢，随心所欲地爱己所爱，享受灵魂的自由。这似乎并不是一个糟得不能再糟的办法，也绝对不是一个令人鄙弃的选择。你可以长坐不眠，完全听从自己的意愿，你可以随时起身而去，也不会有店主或者房东追着你讨要房租。有多少人租用一只更大、更奢华的箱子，为了支付租金被折磨得精疲力竭、苦不堪言，而住在这样一个箱子里人是冻不死的。这绝非戏言。简朴生活是一门学问，你可以轻视它，但却不能置之不理。一个身体强健、吃苦耐劳的民族，曾经一度大部分时间过着露天生活，他们过去在这里建造起舒适的住所，用的几乎完全是大自然提供的现成材料。马萨诸塞州殖民地管辖下的印第安人总督古金在1674年这样说道：“他们最好的房子用树皮做屋顶，搭盖得干净齐整、严实暖和，树皮是在干燥季节从树身上剥落下来，然后趁树皮尚且呈绿色的时候用沉重的原木压成大片大片的……差一些的房子，用一种灯芯草编成的草席做屋顶，也同样密实暖和，只是没有前者美观耐用……我见过的一些房子有60或100英尺长，30英尺宽……我也经常在他们的棚屋里过夜，感觉跟英国最好的房子一样暖和。”他还说，棚屋里的地面上和墙上通常铺着或挂着镶饰花纹的毯子，还有各式各样的器皿，一应俱全。印第安人已经有了如此进步，他们在屋顶的敞口处挂上一张草席，用一根绳子控制草席开合，调节通风效果。建造这样一个住所，起初顶多需要一两天功夫，而且仅需几个小时就能拆除并重新搭好；每个家庭都拥有一个这样的棚屋，或者其中的一个房间。

在蛮荒时代，每个家庭都拥有一处最好的遮蔽所，足以满足他们粗陋而简单的需求；天空中的飞鸟有自己的巢窠，地上的狐狸有自己的洞穴，原始人有自己的棚屋，但在现代的文明社会中，却只有半数不到的家庭拥有自己的住所，我认为此言是恰如其分的。在文明尤为发达的大城镇和大城市里，自己拥有住宅的人只占全体居民的一小部分。其余的人则年年交付房租，以换取这最外层的蔽体之物，在夏季和冬季更是必不可少；那笔房租本可以买下一个村子里所有的印第安棚屋，而现在却使他们有生之年一直生活在贫困之中。我在这里并无意强调租房和拥有自己的房子相比有何种劣势，但是，显而易见，野蛮人拥有自己的住所，是因为花费甚少，而文明人普遍租房住是因为无力购买；从长远来看也未必付得起房租。然而，有人会辩驳道，穷苦的文明人只要付一笔租金，就能得到住所，和野蛮人的棚屋相比，简直如同宫殿一般。按照乡镇的价格水平，每年支付25到100美元的房租，就能享受几个世纪以来人类进步的成果——宽敞的房间、干净的油漆和壁纸、拉姆福德〔24〕式的壁炉、内涂灰泥的墙面、软百叶帘、铜质水泵、弹簧锁、宽大的地窖，还有许许多多别的东西。但是，享受这些成果的据说通常是贫穷的文明人，而野蛮人虽然并不享有这些东西，却有着自己的富足生活——这一切究竟做何解释呢？如果有人断言，文明意味着人类状况的真正改善——我也认同这种说法，虽然只有智者能够使其有利条件有所增益——倘若真是如此，就必须让人们看到，完全可以建造出更好的住所而无需更多的花费；一件物品的价格，我称之为需要用以交换物品的生命时光的价值，需要即刻或长期付出。在这一带，一座普通房屋的造价是800美元左右，而要积攒下这笔钱，一个劳动者即使没有家室拖累，也需要10年到15年的时间——这是以一个人一天的劳动价值为1美元的标准来计算的，因为人们的收入总会有多有少——如此一来，一个人得耗费大半辈子的生命光阴，才能挣得自己的棚屋。如果我们假设他改为租房子住，这也只是在两难之间做出一个疑虑重重的选择。在这种条件下，如果野蛮人拿自己的棚屋去交换一座宫殿，难道会是个明智的选择吗？

或许有人会猜测，我几乎把拥有这份多余房产的全部好处都贬得一文不值，把其作用说成仅仅是以备将来的不时之需而已，就个人而言，主要是支付丧葬费用。但是，一个人恐怕并不需要安葬自己。不过，这倒显示出了文明人和野蛮人之间的一个重要差别；使文明人的生活成为一种制度，最大限度地把个人生活纳入其中，以便使整个种族的生活得以保存并日渐完善，这毫无疑问是为了我们的利益而设计的。但是我想说明的是，为了获得目前的好处，我们付出了怎样的牺牲，我还想指出，我本可以得到所有的益处，而不必承受任何损失。你说，穷人永远跟随着你，还说，父亲吃了酸葡萄，子女的牙齿就会发酸，这些话是何用意〔25〕？

“主耶和华说，我指着我的永生起誓，你们在以色列中必不再有用这俗语的理由。”

“看啊，世人都是属于我的，为父的怎样属我，为子的也照样属我：犯罪的他必死亡。”〔26〕

我的邻居，这些康科德的农人，他们的日子过得至少和其他阶层一样好，每念及此，我就会想到，他们大多已经含辛茹苦地劳作了二十、三十或者四十年，为的就是成为农场真正的主人，通常这些农场是附带着抵押权继承来的，要么就是借钱买下的——他们三分之一的劳动可以被看成是房屋的代价——但是他们往往还没有付清房款。不错，抵押权有时候已经超出了农场的价值，因此农场本身就成了一个大累赘，但是依然有人要继承，因为，用那人自己的话来说，这农场对他来说真是太熟悉了。向估税员询问此事的时候，我惊奇地发现，他们竟然无法一口气说出镇子里十二个拥有自己的农场，并且无债务之累的人来。如果你想了解这些农庄的历史，尽可以到抵押银行去问个究竟。切切实实靠劳动来偿还农场债务的人，真是少之又少，任何一个邻居都可以指给你看。我怀疑，在康科德，这样的人能否找出三个来。说到商人，其中的绝大多数，甚至一百个人中有九十七个，注定都会失败，这话同样也适用于农人。不过，就商人而言，他们中间曾经有人一针见血地指出，大部分商人的落败并不是真的亏钱蚀本，而仅仅是没有履行合约，因为当时手头不便，换言之，就是道德品质的沦丧。但是，如此这般，会让事情变得越来越不可救药，而且还会让人联想到，也许连那剩下的三个人也拯救不了自己的灵魂，也许和那些老老实实败落了的人相比，他们在更糟糕的意义上失败了。破产啦，拒付债款啦，都是一块块跳板，我们的大部分文明就在上面翻转腾挪，但野蛮人却站在饥饿这块没有弹性的木板上。不过，一年一度的米德尔塞克斯牛展却总是热闹非凡，大获成功，看起来，农业这部机器的所有接合点仿佛都处于良好的运转状态。

农人一直在努力解决生计问题，但他们采取的方法却比问题本身更复杂。为了弄到鞋带，他们投机做起了畜牧生意。他们凭借娴熟的技艺，用细弹簧丝设下一个陷阱，想捕捉安逸的生活和足以安身立命的收入，结果刚一转身要走，自己的腿却陷了进去。这就是他贫困的原因所在；同样，尽管我们处在奢侈品的包围之中，但和野蛮人享有的上千种舒适相比，我们仍然贫困不堪。正如查普曼〔27〕所吟咏的——

这虚伪的人类社会——

——为了尘世间的崇高伟大，

把一切天堂的安乐变得如空气般淡薄。

当农人得到了屋舍，他有可能并未因此而变得富足，反倒落得更加贫穷，正是房子左右了他。按照我的理解，这正是莫摩斯〔28〕强烈反对密涅瓦〔29〕建造房屋的恰当理由，莫摩斯说她“没有建成可移动的房屋，否则的话，就可以避开不与人为善的邻居了”；我们还可以振振有词地说，由于房子这种财产如此不灵便，我们与其说是居住在里面，不如说是常常囚禁其中；要退避三舍的恶邻其实正是卑劣的自己。据我所知，在这个镇子里，至少有一两户人家，一直希望将城郊的房子卖掉，好搬到村子里去住，他们足足盼了一辈子也未能如愿以偿，看来只有死亡才能使他们得到解脱。

就算大多数人最终能够拥有或租用具有各种先进设施的现代房屋，然而，文明在不断改善我们的住宅的同时，却没有相应地改进住在里面的人。文明创造了宫殿，却难以如此轻而易举地造就贵族和君王。况且，如果文明人的追求并不比野蛮人更有意义，如果他的大半生都用于获取最基本的生活必需品和安逸的生活，那么，他的住所为什么要比野蛮人更胜一筹呢？

但是，贫穷的少数人是如何过活呢？也许人们会发现，从表面上看，有多少人比野蛮人的境况优越，就有多少人比野蛮人的境况恶劣，二者是成正比的。某个阶层的骄奢淫逸意味着另一个阶层的贫穷匮乏。一边是宫殿，另一边则是贫民院和“沉默寡言的贫苦人”。给法老建造金字塔陵墓的工匠不计其数，他们以大蒜为食，死后恐怕连个体面的丧葬都不会有。石匠白天给宫殿造好飞檐，晚上回到自己那兴许连棚屋也不如的茅舍里。有人认为，在一个处处显示出文明的国家里，大多数居民未必会落魄到野蛮人的境地，这种想法是大错特错的。我在这里所说的是境况恶劣的穷人，暂且不论那些境况恶劣的富人。要弄明白这一点，无需看得多远，只要把目光投向铁路旁随处可见的简陋棚屋就足矣，这是文明进程中最落后的东西；我每日散步之时，都会看到有人住在那污秽不堪的棚屋里，为了透进亮光，他们整个冬天都开着门，里面看不到任何木柴堆，那东西只存在于他们的想象之中；由于寒冷和穷困，他们长期以来惯于蜷缩成一团，无论老幼，身躯都已经收缩变形，成了永久的模样，四肢和器官功能的发育也受到了抑制。关注这个阶层是理所当然的，正是他们的劳动造就了这一代人独具特色的成果。在英国这个世界大工场里，各种名目的技工，生存状况大抵如此。或者我可以让你们看看爱尔兰，在地图上，那里被标为白色地带或文明地区之一。我们不妨将爱尔兰人的身体状况和北美洲的印第安人、南太平洋岛民，或任何其他尚未与文明人接触，因而未曾堕落的野蛮人的状况作一番比较。我毫不怀疑，野蛮人的统治者和一般的文明人统治者同样聪明。他们的状况只能说明，与文明并存的是何等污秽不堪的东西。我无需提及美国南方各州的劳工了，他们生产出这个国家主要的出口产品，而自己本身就是南方的一种主要产品〔30〕。我在此只说说那些所谓处于中等状况的人吧。

大多数人似乎从未考虑过房子是什么，实际上，他们原本没有必要贫困一生，而其终生贫穷的原因，就在于总觉得必须拥有一座和邻居们一样的房子。这恰如一个人总是穿裁缝为他做好的各种衣服，或者逐渐舍弃了棕榈叶或旱獭皮做成的帽子，但还一味抱怨时日艰难，因为他买不起一顶王冠！我们有可能设计一座更便利更奢华的房子，但所有人都会承认，那笔开销可是无力偿付的。难道我们应该不断考虑如何获取更多的这类东西，而不能有时满足于有所欠缺的现状吗？难道那些高尚体面的公民，应该如此郑重其事地言传身教，教导年轻人在他们终老之前，必须备下若干多余的套靴、雨伞和空空如也的客房，好招待那些并不存在的客人吗？我们的家具为什么不能做得和阿拉伯人或印第安人的一样简单呢？我们把造福于民族的人奉为天国的使者，他们为人类带来神圣的礼物，当我想到他们的时候，脑海中并没有浮现出，他们身后跟着亦步亦趋的侍从，还有满车的时髦家具。如果容许我这种说法，就是说，我们在道德和智力上优于阿拉伯人，因而我们的家具也应该制作得更加复杂，这种容许是不是太不可思议？如今，我们的房子里塞满家具，弄得脏乱不堪，一个称职的家庭主妇宁愿把大部分家具扫进垃圾坑，也不会大清早忙个没完没了。清晨的劳作！在奥罗拉〔31〕面颊上的红晕的映衬下，在曼侬〔32〕的美妙乐声里，世人该从事何种“清晨的劳作”呢？我的写字台上摆放着三块石灰石，当我发现需要每天擦拭上面的灰尘时，我惊骇不小，厌烦地把它们扔到了窗外——我心灵上蒙受的灰尘还没有清除呢，那么，我怎么能拥有一所带家具的房子呢？我宁愿坐在户外，因为草地上一尘不染，除非人类在那里破土动工。

往往是骄奢淫逸之人开创时尚，让众人趋之若鹜。在所谓最好的旅店里住宿的旅人很快就会发现这一点，因为旅店老板会把他当成撒丹纳帕鲁斯〔33〕，如果他听之任之，不多时就会失去阳刚之气。我认为，在火车车厢里，我们往往把更多的钱花在奢侈物品上，而不是花在安全和方便上，结果安全和方便不可得，车厢却成了一个现代客厅，里面有长沙发、软垫凳、百叶窗，此外还有数以百计来自东方的物件，这些原本是为天朝帝国的六宫嫔妃和没有男子气概的当地人设计的，反而被我们引到西方来，单是听了这些物品的名称，乔纳森〔34〕也会感到羞愧难当。我宁愿坐在南瓜上一个人自得其乐，也不愿挤坐在天鹅绒垫子上。我宁愿乘坐牛车在大地上行进，呼吸自由流通的空气，也不愿坐在观光火车那无比华丽的车厢里，一路呼吸着污浊的空气驶往天堂。

在原始时代，人类的生活简单至极，无遮无掩，这至少显示出一个好处，那就是，人不过是大自然中的一名过客。当他吃饱喝足，精神焕发之后，便又开始考虑重返旅途。可以说，他把整个世界当作自己的帐篷，四海为家，不是穿过峡谷，就是越过平原，攀上山峰。然而，呜呼！人竟然成了他们的工具的工具。过去饥饿时独自采摘果子的人，现在成了农人；过去在树下寻求荫蔽的人，如今成了管家。眼下，我们不再露营过夜，而是在地球上安顿下来，忘记了还有天堂。我们信奉基督教，无非是因为这是促进农业的一种方法。我们已经为尘世建造了家宅，为来世建造了家墓。最杰出的艺术品应该表现人类如何使自己摆脱这种境况，而我们的艺术所起到的作用，却只是让这种低级的状态显得安逸舒适，而使高级的状态被抛到脑后。实际上，在这个村庄里，卓越的艺术品根本没有容身之地，如果有什么艺术品传到我们手里，我们的生活，我们的房屋和街道，也无法为其提供一个合适的基座。这里没有一枚钉子可以用来挂画，也没有一个架子可以放置英雄或圣徒的半身雕像。当我思忖我们的房屋是如何建造起来，是如何支付钱款，或者尚未付款，以及房屋内部的经济状况是如何管理和维持这一类问题时，我禁不住感到纳闷，在客人盛赞摆在壁炉台上的那些华而不实的小玩意儿的时候，地板竟然没有塌陷下去，让他跌到地窖里，落在那虽为泥土却坚实可靠的地基上。我不能不看到，所谓富足而高雅的生活，无非就是人们争相一跃去获取的东西，我素不欣赏那些粉饰生活的艺术品，我的全部心神都集中在那奋力一跃上；因为我记得，人类单凭肌肉能够做到的、最伟大的、真正的跳跃记录，是某些流浪的阿拉伯人保持的，据说他们能够从平地跳过25英尺的高度。没有人为的力量做支撑，即使跳到那个高度以外，也必定会落回地面。对于那些行为不端的业主，我想问的第一个问题是，是谁在支撑着你？你是九十七个失败者中的一员，还是三个成功者中的一个？等回答了我这些问题之后，也许我会看看你那些华而不实的小玩意儿，觉得颇具装饰性。马车套在马儿前面，既不美观，也不实用。在用漂亮的饰品装点房间之前，我们必须把墙壁剥个一干二净，我们的人生也是如此，要用良好的家务管理和美好的生活做底子：要知道，对美好事物的品味大多是在户外培养起来的，那里既无房屋，也无管家。

老约翰逊〔35〕在《神奇的造化》一书中，谈到了这个城镇最早的移民，也就是和他同时代的人，他告诉我们说：“他们最初在山坡之下掘洞而居，把泥土高高地堆在木头上，在最高一侧的泥地上生起烟火。”他们并没有“为自己建造房子”，他还说，“直到在上帝的祝福下，土地带来面包养活他们”，头一年的收成如此微薄，“他们在那个漫长的季节里，不得不把面包切得薄薄的，聊以糊口”。新尼德兰州〔36〕的总督，为了给想移居那里的人提供信息，曾在1650年用荷兰文写下这样一段更为详尽的介绍：“在新尼德兰，尤其是新英格兰地区，有些人起初无法按照自己的意愿建造农舍，于是他们就在地上挖一个方形的坑，像地窖一样，有六七英尺深，长宽则视需要而定，坑的四周墙壁嵌上木板，缝隙处钉上树皮之类的东西，免得泥土塌落下来；地窖的底部还要铺上厚木板，上面用护壁板做天花板，架起一个斜梁屋顶，其上覆以树皮或草皮，这样一来，他们全家人就可以住在里面，温暖而干爽地过上两年，三年，或者四年，可以推想，这样的地窖还会隔出若干个小间，完全取决于家中人口的多寡。在殖民时期之初，有钱有势的英格兰人以这种方式建造自己的住所，原因有两个：首先是为了不把时间浪费在建造房屋上，免得下一个季节口粮不足；其次是为了不让他们从本国带来的大批穷苦劳工感到灰心丧气。等过了三四年，这个地区已经适合农业生产之后，他们才为自己建造起漂亮的住宅，不惜花上几千块钱。”

在这个过程中，我们的先辈至少表现出了他们的谨小慎微，似乎他们秉承的原则就是首先满足当务之急。然而，更为迫切的需要现在得到满足了吗？一想到为自己置办一处豪华的住所，我就不禁感到万分踌躇，因为，说起来，这个地区尚未适应人类文化，我们迫不得已还要把精神面包切得薄薄的，比先辈的小麦面包还要薄得多。这倒不是说所有的建筑装饰都应该统统舍弃，即使在最原始的阶段也并非如此，而是说，应该首先让房屋与我们的生活息息相关的地方美观一些，就像贝类动物的内壁一般，但也要适可而止。我曾走进过一两所房子，知道里面装饰成了何等模样。

虽然我们今天没有沦落到栖身于山洞和棚屋，身穿兽皮御寒的境地，但毫无疑问，我们最好还是接受人类的发明创造和辛勤努力所带来的种种好处，为此，人类已经付出了高昂的代价。在我们这一带，木板和木瓦、石灰和砖头，要比适宜居住的山洞、整根圆木、应有尽有的树皮，或做好的泥坯和平整的石块更容易得到，价格也更便宜。我这么说是深有体会的，因为我既通晓理论，又有实践经验。只要多动动脑筋，我们就有可能利用这些材料，使自己比当下那些最富有的人更胜一筹，从而让我们的文明成为一种福祉。文明人是经验更丰富，更富有智慧的野蛮人。不过，我还是赶快讲述自己的试验吧。

1845年3月底，我借来一柄斧子，走进瓦尔登湖边的森林，来到我打算建造房屋的地方，在近旁开始砍伐一些高大笔直、年头不长的五针松做木料。一开头难免不借点儿东西，不过，这也许不失为一个最好的办法，让你的左邻右舍对你的事业产生兴趣。斧子的主人把那柄斧子交给我的时候说，这是他最珍爱的东西；但是，当我归还的时候，斧子比借的时候还要锋利。我干活的地方是一个长满松树的山坡，令人心旷神怡，透过松林，我可以望见湖水，还有一小片林中空地，松树和山核桃正焕发着勃勃生机。湖里的冰还没有完全融化，仅有几处现出水面，整个湖呈现出黝黑的色泽，水汪汪的。我在那儿干活的日子里，偶尔飘过几阵微雪；但是，每当我回家经过铁路的时候，眼里的景象大多是黄色沙堆绵延不绝，在弥漫的烟雾中闪烁着微光，铁轨在春天的阳光下闪闪发亮，我还能听到云雀、小鹟和别的什么鸟儿已经开始欢唱，和我们一起迎接新的一年。这是令人愉悦的春日，人们在冬天的不快正像冰封的大地一样开始消融，蛰伏一冬的生命也开始尽情舒展。有一天，我的斧柄掉了，我就砍了一节青绿的山核桃木做楔子，用石块把它砸进去，然后把整个斧子浸在一汪湖水里，好让木头膨胀，恰恰在这个时候，我看见一条带条纹的蛇窜进水中，躺在湖底，足足过了一刻多钟，跟我待在湖边的时间一样长，那份悠然自得显而易见；也许是还没有从蛰伏状态中恢复过来吧。我由此想到，人类目前之所以处在低级、原始的状态，原因大概也是如此；不过，如果他们感受到万物之春的力量在召唤他们，他们必然会上升到一个更高级、更超凡脱俗的生活状态。以前，在寒冷的清晨，我总在路旁发现一些蛇，它们身体的一部分处于麻木、僵硬状态，等待阳光把它们暖和过来。4月1日，天下起了雨，冰融化了，但清晨时分雾气蒙蒙，我听到一只离群的孤雁在湖上四处摸索，苦苦哀鸣，仿佛迷失了方向，又好像是雾的精灵。

我一连几天都在伐倒树木，砍削木料、立柱和椽子，全靠手里这把窄小的斧子，我没有多少可以交流的想法或学者般的思想，只是自吟自唱——

人们自诩博学多才，

可是，看啊！艺术和科学，

还有千般技艺——

全都插上了双翅；

只有吹动的风儿，

是他们知道的一切。

我把主要的木料砍成6英寸见方，大部分立柱只砍两边，椽子和地板只砍去一边，其余部分的树皮统统保留着，这样一来，它们和锯出的木料一样直，而且也结实得多。这时候，我又借到了另外一些工具，在每一根木料上都仔细地凿出榫眼，并在桩上留了榫头。我每天在林中度过的时间并不很长；即便如此，我还常常带着黄油面包当午餐，中午时分，坐在自己砍下来的青翠松枝间读那份裹面包用的报纸，面包也浸染了松树的芳香，因为我的双手沾上了厚厚一层松脂。虽然我砍伐了几棵松树，但是还没等我完工，我就已经和它们成了朋友而不是敌人，因为我对松树愈发亲近起来。我伐木的斧声有时会吸引来一位林中漫步的过路人，于是我们就站在砍下的木屑上愉快地攀谈起来。

我并不急于求成，只是尽力而为，因此到4月中旬才做好屋架，可以立起来了。我已经买下了詹姆斯·柯林斯的简陋木屋，为的是利用现成的木板。詹姆斯·柯林斯是个爱尔兰人，在菲茨堡铁路上工作。据说他的小木屋盖得好极了，非比寻常。我去看那所木屋的时候他恰巧不在。我在外面四处走动，起初屋子里的人没有注意到，因为那窗子又深又高。房子很小，屋顶尖尖的，别的就没什么可看的了，房子周围垃圾堆得足有5英尺高，像是一堆肥料。屋顶虽然被太阳晒得翘了起来，而且变得焦脆，但仍然是最完好的部分。没有门槛，门板下面有一条通道，母鸡一年四季可以随意进进出出。柯林斯太太来到门口，让我到屋里去看看。我一走进去，母鸡也随着一涌而入。屋内光线很暗，大部分地面都是泥土，阴湿寒冷，潮腻腻，冷冰冰的，木板东一块西一块，经不起搬动。她点起一盏灯，让我看屋顶和墙壁，还有延伸到床下的木板，并提醒我不要踏进地窖，看上去那是个约摸两英尺深的土坑。用她的话说，“顶上是好木板，四周是好木板，窗户也是好的”——原先是两个方形的洞，最近只有猫从那里进出。屋子里有一个炉子、一张床、一个坐的地方、一个就在这木屋里出生的婴儿、一把丝绸阳伞、一面镀金框的镜子，还有一个崭新、式样别致的咖啡豆研磨机，钉在小橡木板上，这就是他们的全部家当。詹姆斯这当儿回到了家里，所以我们的交易很快就谈妥了。我当晚付给他们4美元25美分，他们明天早晨5点钟把房子腾空，而且不能再卖给别人，6点钟就归我所有了。他说，我最好还是早点儿到，省得有人在地租和燃料方面提出一些不明不白而且完全不合情理的要求。他让我尽管放心，这是唯一的麻烦。第二天清早6点钟的时候，我在路上遇见了他们一家人。一个大包裹里装的是他们全部的家产——床、咖啡豆研磨机、镜子、母鸡——只是少了那只猫，它溜进森林，成了只野猫，后来我又得知，它踩上了捕旱獭的夹子，最终成了一只死猫。

当天上午，我就拆了木屋，拔除钉子，用小推车将木板运到湖边，摊在草地上，让太阳把弯曲变形的木板晒干，恢复原状。我推着小车行走在林间小道上，一只早起的画眉时不时地为我送上几声啼鸣。一个名叫帕特里克的年轻人别有用心地向我告密说，有个叫西里的爱尔兰邻居，趁我装运东西的间隙，把那些还能凑合用的、直的、可以钉的钉子、U形钉和大钉全都拣到了自己的口袋里，我回来后跟他寒暄几句，他正站在那儿，一脸的满不在乎，昂着头，得意洋洋地看着那被拆毁的烂摊子；正如他所说的，已经没有什么事儿可做了。他在那儿是作为观众，把这件仿佛无足轻重的小事儿，渲染得如同众神从特洛伊撤离一般〔37〕。

我在一座小山的南坡挖了个地窖，一只旱獭曾经在那里打过洞，我挖去漆树和黑莓的根，还有植物在土壤最深处的痕迹，地窖有6英尺见方，7英尺深，一直通到细砂土层，这样一来，无论遇上怎样的冬天，马铃薯都不会被冻坏。地窖的四壁稍稍倾斜，没有砌上石块，不过因为阳光根本照不进来，所以沙土不会滑落。这项工作只花了两个小时。我特别喜欢这种破土动工的活儿，因为几乎在任何纬度，人们通过挖掘都可以得到稳定的温度。就是在城市里最豪华的房屋下面也可以找到地窖，人们依旧和过去一样把块茎植物储藏在里面，哪怕上层建筑消失许久之后，后人仍然能够在地面上发现它留下的凹陷痕迹。房子只不过是地洞入口处的门廊而已。

在一些熟人的帮助下，时值5月初，我终于把房子的框架立了起来，其实，与其说需要帮手，倒不如说是利用这样一个好机会和邻居增进友谊。能够有如此品格的人〔38〕帮我立起屋架，对我来说真是莫大的荣幸。我相信，有朝一日，他们定会为树立起更宏伟的建筑添砖加瓦。7月4日，木板和房顶刚一完工，我就住了进去，木板的边缘处事先经过仔细削薄，相互搭接在一起，防雨完全不成问题；在铺木板之前，我在房子的一端打好了烟囱的地基，石块是我从湖边用双手抱上山来的，足有两车。秋天，我锄好地之后，就着手造烟囱，在此之前，还不需要生火取暖，那段时间，我一大早就在露天的地上做饭；至今想来，我仍然觉得，从某些方面来说，这比人们惯常的方式更方便，更惬意。如果在面包烤好之前暴风雨不期而至，我就把几块木板架在火的上方，坐在下面照看自己的面包，就这样，我度过了一些愉快的时光。在那段日子里，每逢手头的活计很多，无暇读书，地上、垫子上或桌布上散落的零星纸片都给我带来了诸多乐趣，实际上不亚于我读《伊利亚特》。

建造房子的时候，如果比我再多一点儿深思熟虑，比方说，考虑一扇门、一个窗子、一孔地窖、一间阁楼，在人的本性中有着什么样的根基，那么我们也许根本不该建起什么上层建筑，除非我们找到了比满足暂时需要更好的理由。人类建造住所与鸟儿筑巢一样，都要有其合情合理的地方。谁知道呢，倘若人类用自己的双手建起了自己的住所，用简单而正当的方式养活自己和家人，他们的诗歌才能兴许能够得到普遍的发展，就像鸟儿在筑巢觅食的时候总会不住欢唱一般。可是啊，我们倒像是牛鹂和杜鹃，把蛋下到别的鸟儿搭的窝里，吱吱喳喳的叫声也毫无乐感，何以让旅人感到些许快乐？难道我们应该永远把建造屋舍的乐趣让给木匠吗？在多数人的生活经历中，建筑有着多大的意义呢？我散步的时候，从未遇到过一个人，从事着为自己建造房屋这样简单而又自然的工作。我们都属于一个群体。并不仅仅是裁缝位列第九，牧师、商人和农人也不例外。这种劳动分工到什么程度才能有个了结？其最终目的究竟是什么？毫无疑问，别人可以代替我思考；但倘若这种代替排除了我自己的思想，那就并非我所愿了。

不错，在我们这个国家有所谓的建筑师，我至少听说有那么一位，他仿佛得到了上天的启示，一心希望使建筑装饰具有真理的本质，成为一种需要，进而呈现为一种美。从他的观点来看也许一点儿不错，但其实无非是比一般的浅尝辄止的艺术爱好者高明那么一丁点儿而已。作为一个感情用事的建筑学改革者，他首先从飞檐着手，而不是地基。这只不过是考虑怎样让装饰物包含真理的本质，就如同使每一个蜜饯李子里面都有一粒杏仁或葛缕子籽——我倒认为杏仁不加糖更有益于健康——而不是考虑居住者，也即住在房屋里面的人，如何把住所的里里外外真正建好，而让那些装饰物顺其自然。有哪个理智的人会认为装饰不过是外在的东西，皮毛而已？会认为乌龟具有带斑点的甲壳，贝类动物生有珍珠母的光泽，是和百老汇大街上的居民一样，得签份合同才能建造他们的三一教堂？然而，一个人和自己房屋的建筑风格没有什么关系，正如乌龟和自己身上的纹饰不大相干一样；同样，士兵也不必闲来无聊，试图把显示自己英勇无畏的色彩准确地涂画在旗帜上。敌人自会明了。等到考验到来的时刻，他可能会被吓得面容失色。在我看来，这样的人仿佛俯身于飞檐之上，胆怯地向居于屋内的粗莽之人说着半真半假的话，殊不知那屋内的人比他更通晓事理。我现在所领略到的建筑之美，我感觉都是由内向外逐渐延伸的，是从居住者的需要和品格中产生的，他们才是唯一的建筑师：美源自某种下意识的真实感和崇高感，丝毫不顾及外表；如果增添这种美感势在必行，无论是何种形态，那么之前一定已经有人们浑然不觉的、类似的生命之美存在。在画家眼里，这个国家最富有意趣的住所莫过于穷人们朴实无华的简陋木屋和村舍；住宅是居民生活的外壳，使这些住宅显得别具一格的并不仅仅是其表面特征，而是居民的生活；同样富有生趣的要算市民们建在郊外的箱形木屋，他们在那里的生活有多么简单和惬意，可以任凭想象，而且他们也极少追求什么住宅的风格效果。建筑装饰大多徒有其表，这并非言过其实，九月的一阵大风就能把它们统统剥落，像借来的羽毛一样吹得踪迹全无，而主体部分却丝毫无损。不需要用地窖来储藏橄榄和葡萄酒的人也不需要什么建筑学。如果在文学中，人们也同样煞费苦心地追求文体修饰，如果《圣经》的创造者也和教堂的建筑师们一样，把大量心思花在飞檐上，结果会是怎样？纯文学和艺术，以及讲授这些学问的教授，就是这样产生的。的确，和一个人休戚相关的是，几根木条究竟是斜放在他上面还是下面，以及他的箱形房屋该涂成什么颜色。如果是他自己特地斜放这几根木条，并且涂上颜色，那还是具有某种意义的；但是，如果精神已经离开了躯壳，那就无异于给自己做一具棺材了——也就是坟墓建筑学，所谓“木匠”，不过是“棺材匠”的别称而已。有人说，在对生活感到绝望或者漠不关心的时候，抓起一把脚下的泥土，就把房子涂抹成那种颜色吧。他头脑中想的是自己生命最后时刻那个狭窄的屋子吗？不妨抛一枚铜币来决定吧。他手里一定有大把的闲暇时间！你为什么要抓起一把泥土？最好把房子涂成你自己的肤色；让它为你而面色苍白或是两颊绯红好了。这不失为改进农舍建筑风格的创新之举！等你为我准备好了装饰物，我会欣然采用的。

入冬之前，我造好了烟囱，虽然房子原本也不会漏雨，我还是在四周加上了一层木板，木板是从圆木上砍下的第一层木头，多有瑕疵，主要是边材，我不得不用刨子把边缘修平整。

就这样，我拥有了一座严严实实、钉好了木板、抹上了灰泥的木屋，10英尺宽，15英尺长，立柱高8英尺，带阁楼和壁橱，屋子两侧各有一扇大窗户，此外还有两扇活板门，以及位于房子一端的大门，正对着砖砌的壁炉。下面是这座房子的确切成本，只包括我按一般价格购买所用材料的花费，因为是我自己一手搭建，人工费用可略去不计；我在此详细列出各项费用，原因在于很少有人能够准确说出他们的房子造价几何，即便有人能够分别说出建造房屋的各种材料花费，也是屈指可数——

木板　　　　　　　　　8.035美元

（大多是旧木屋上拆下的木板）

屋顶和四壁的废旧木板　4.00美元

板条　　　　　　　　　1.25美元

两扇带玻璃的旧窗户　　2.43美元

1000块旧砖　　　　　　4.00美元

两桶石灰　　　　　　　2.40美元（买贵了）

毛织物　　　　　　　　0.31美元（买多了）

壁炉家用铁　　　　　　0.15美元

钉子　　　　　　　　　3.90美元

铰链和螺丝钉　　　　　0.14美元

门闩　　　　　　　　　0.10美元

粉笔　　　　　　　　　0.01美元

运费　　　　　　　　　1.40美元（大多自己背）

合计　　　　　　　　　28.125美元

以上就是全部材料，其中不包括木料、石头和沙土，这些是我作为政府公地上的定居者有权免费使用的。我还在房子边上搭建了一个柴棚，主要用料都是盖房子剩下的。

我想给自己建一座豪宅，比康科德主街上的任何一座房子都更气派，更奢华，只要它能和我现在的房子一样令我心满意足，而且花费也不会有所增加。

由此我发现，想要得到栖身之所的学子，可以付一笔不高于目前每年所付房租的费用，得到一个终身的住所。如果我有自吹自擂、言过其实之嫌，我的理由是，我是在为人类，并非为自己而夸夸其谈；我个人的缺点和前后不一之处并不影响我这些言论的真实性。尽管其中有不少单调无味的说教和虚伪之辞——犹如麦粒上的麸皮，我感觉很难分离开来，不过，对此我和任何其他人一样感到遗憾——但我还是要畅快地呼吸，舒展自己的躯体，这对人的精神和肉体都是极大的宣泄；我决心不卑躬屈膝去做魔鬼的代言人。我要尽己所能为真理进益言。在剑桥学院〔39〕，一个学生住的房间仅比我的屋舍稍大一点儿，可光是房租一年就要30美元，况且房产公司在同一个屋檐下并排建了32间宿舍，从中捞到了巨大的好处，而房客却要忍受人多嘈杂带来的不便，说不定还得住在四楼。我不由得想到，如果我们在这些方面能够多一些真知灼见，那么人们对教育的需求就会有所减少，因为，说真的，人们受到的教育比起自己的需要已经绰绰有余了，而且受教育的花费也会大大减少。在剑桥或别的什么地方，为了得到所需的种种便利，学生要付出自己或他人巨大的生命代价，如果双方处理得当，那么需要付出的生命代价只要十分之一就足够了。花钱最多的东西往往并不是学生最需要的东西。譬如说，学费在一个学期的费用中是重要的一项，而学生和同时代的人当中最有修养的人交往，从中得到的教益价值之大不可同日而语，但却分文不付。建立一所学院的方式通常是募集捐款，不拘多少，然后就开始盲目地遵循劳动分工的原则，而实施这一原则是需要谨慎行事的——总之招来了承包商，承包商于是做起投机生意，雇用爱尔兰人或其他具体干活儿的人来打地基，而未来的学子们就得让自己适应这一切；一代代学子不得不为这些失策之举付出代价。我想，如果学生，或者那些希望从中受益的人，自己动手奠基，情况会好得多。故意逃避对人类来说必不可少的任何劳动，从而获得自己渴求的闲暇和安逸，这样的学生所得到的不过是可耻和无益的休闲，而使休闲富有成效的经验则与他失之交臂。“但是，”有人说，“你该不是主张学生应该用双手，而不是用头脑去工作吧？”我的本意并非如此，但我认为他们应该在这方面多多思考；我的意思是，他们不应该游戏人生，或者仅仅是研究人生，由社会来供养他们从事这花费昂贵的事业，而是要一贯认真热诚地体验人生。年轻人如果不立即投身于生活实践中，又如何能够更好地学会生活呢？我认为这会像数学一样训练他们的思维。譬如说，倘若我希望一个孩子学点艺术和科学，我不会墨守陈规，按老一套的办法，把他送到某个教授身边，那里倒是无所不学，无所不练，但唯独不教授生活的艺术；——只通过望远镜和显微镜来观察世界，却从来不用肉眼；研究化学，却不学习自己吃的面包是如何制成，研究机械学，却不了解这一切由何而来；探索海王星的新卫星，却对自己眼中的尘埃视而不见，也无从发现自己就是一颗卫星，环绕着一颗行踪不定的行星运转；观察一滴醋里的怪兽，却被云集在周身的形形色色的怪兽所吞噬。假如一个孩子用自己开采、冶炼的金属矿石制作出一把折刀，同时广泛阅读自己所需要的知识，而另一个孩子则在学院里上冶金学课程，从父亲那里得来一把罗杰斯牌袖珍折刀——一个月下来，谁会有更大的进步？谁最有可能割破自己的手指？……令我大吃一惊的是，在我离开大学之际，居然被告知已经学习过航海术了！——其实，我只要到港口去转一遭就能学到更多的相关知识。即使是贫穷的学生也要求学，所学的课程也无非是政治经济学，而在我们的学院里，与哲学同义的生活经济学却从来没有实实在在地教过。结果是，他在研究亚当·斯密〔40〕、李嘉图〔41〕和萨伊〔42〕，却因此无可挽回地导致自己的父亲负债累累。

和我们的学院一样，上百种“现代化的先进事物”亦是如此；人们对它们抱有某种幻想；而实际上进步并不总是具有积极的意义。魔鬼早就入了股份，随后又不断增加投资，接着就没完没了地索取复利，一直到最后。我们的发明往往是些漂亮的玩具，分散我们的注意力，使我们无法关注重要的事情。这些发明不过是一些改进了的方式，达到的却是毫无改进的目标，其实这个目标的实现是轻而易举的；恰如通往波士顿或纽约的铁路。我们十万火急地在缅因州和得克萨斯州之间铺设了一条磁性电报线，可是，缅因州和得克萨斯州之间兴许根本没有什么重要的信息需要传递。这种情形使两者都不无尴尬，就像是一名男子，急切地希望被介绍给一位耳聋的高贵女士，但是等到他如愿以偿，那位女士的号角状助听器的一端放在他手里的时候，他却无话可说了。交流的主要目的仿佛是要说得迅速，而不是要说得合情合理。我们急不可耐地想在大西洋底修筑一条隧道，为的是让旧大陆提早几个星期到达新大陆；但是，也许传到美国人翕动张大的耳朵里的第一条新闻是阿德莱德公主得了百日咳。归根结底，一个人骑着一分钟跑一英里的快马，未必带来最重要的信息；他不是福音传教士，也不是来吃蝗虫和野蜂蜜的。我怀疑飞毛腿齐尔德斯曾经把一粒玉米驮到磨房去过。

有人对我说，“我很奇怪你为什么不攒点儿钱；你喜欢旅行；你今天就可以坐车到菲茨堡去开开眼界嘛。”但我比这要来得明智。我很清楚，最快的旅行家莫过于步行者。我对朋友说，我们试试看谁先到那里。路程是30英里；车费90美分。几乎是一天的薪水。我记得就在这条路上，工人一天的工资曾经是60美分。好吧，我现在步行出发，天黑之前就能赶到；我曾经整个星期以这个速度旅行过。而你呢，在这段时间却要把车钱挣出来，得到明天什么时候才能到达，如果你碰巧及时找到了活计，也许今晚就能抵达。你大半天时间没有去成菲茨堡，而是在这里干活。因此，如果铁路能绕地球一周，我想我一定能领先于你；至于说见见世面，多一点诸如此类的人生阅历，那我还是和你断绝往来为好。

这就是普遍规律，任何人都无法逾越，就连我们甚至可以称之为四通八达的铁路也不例外。要为全人类修筑一条环球铁路，无异于铲平地球的整个表面。人们稀里糊涂地认为，只要他们坚持不懈地实行合股经营，不停地用铁锹挖下去，最终，用不了多长时间，而且分文不花，就能到达某个地点；然而，虽然人们蜂拥而至来到车站，列车员大喊一声“上车啦！”等烟尘消散，蒸汽凝结之后，你们就会看到，上车的只是少数，其余的人则被火车生生碾过——这会被称作“一次令人悲哀的意外事件”，事实也将如此。毫无疑问，那些挣够了车费的人最后还是能上车的，假如到那时他们尚且活在人世，但是，真有那么一天，他们也许已经失去了蓬勃的活力和旅行的渴望。耗费生命中最美好的时光来挣钱，为的是在生命最没有价值的年头享受那靠不住的自由，这种做法使我想起了一个英国人，他到印度去发财致富，以便回到英国过上诗人的生活。他应该立刻爬到阁楼上才对。“什么？！”一百万个爱尔兰人从大地上所有的简陋棚屋里一跃而起，大声问道，“难道我们修筑的这条铁路有什么不好吗？”是很好，我回答说，相比较而言是好的，也就是说，你们的情况有可能会更糟；但是，因为你们是我的兄弟，我希望你们能把时间用在更有意义的事情上，而不是在这里挖掘泥土。

［……］

注释

〔1〕　夏威夷群岛的旧称。

〔2〕　赫拉克勒斯是希腊神话中最伟大的英雄，宙斯与底比斯国王的女儿阿尔克墨涅之子。半人半神的赫拉克勒斯能勇善战，成为众人皆知的大力士，在十二年中完成了十二项英雄业绩，其中之一就是在伊俄拉斯的帮助下杀死九头蛇。

〔3〕　传说中的希腊国王奥吉亚斯养牛三千头,三十年未曾洗过牛圈，赫拉克勒斯引河水于一日之内将其清洗干净。

〔4〕　见《圣经·马太福音》第6章19—20节。

〔5〕　希腊神话中普罗米修斯的一个儿子，他与妻子皮拉制造了诺亚方舟，并乘着它在宙斯引发的大洪水中逃生。洪水过后，二人从头顶向身后扔石头，石头变成男男女女，从而重新创造了人类。

〔6〕　原文为拉丁文，引自罗马作家奥维德的《变形记》。

〔7〕　威廉·威尔伯福斯（1759—1833），英国的政治家。曾在任英国下院议员（1780—1825）期间致力于废除奴隶制。

〔8〕　约翰·伊夫林（1620—1706），英国作家，下文引自他的《森林志》（1664年）。

〔9〕　希波克拉底（约公元前460—370）,古希腊医师,被称作“医药之父”。

〔10〕　《圣经》中的人类始祖。

〔11〕　引自印度教经籍《毗湿奴往世书》。

〔12〕　澳大利亚土著，据说自17世纪被荷兰人发现后即被称为“新荷兰人”。

〔13〕　尤斯图斯·冯·李比希（1803—1873），德国化学家，对有机化学贡献卓著。

〔14〕　《圣经·旧约·出埃及记》中提到，古以色列人经过旷野时得到天赐的食物，称为“天粮”。

〔15〕　指中国。

〔16〕　拉·贝鲁斯（Compte de la Perouse，1741—1788），法国探险家，1785年率法国探险队从法国出航，探寻西北航道，结果在南太平洋失踪。

〔17〕　汉诺（约公元前500年），迦太基航海家、制图家。

〔18〕　菲菲夫人（1797—1858），环游世界的奥地利旅行家。

〔19〕　希腊神话中欢乐、花朵和灿烂三女神的总称。

〔20〕　希腊神话中命运三女神阿特洛波斯、克罗托和拉切西斯之总称。

〔21〕　塞缪尔·莱恩（1780—1868），英国作家。

〔22〕　居住在北欧等国。

〔23〕　居住在美国缅因州佩诺布斯科特湾和佩诺布斯科特河河谷一带的北美印第安人。

〔24〕　拉姆福德（1753—1814），英国物理学家，创立现代热理论。

〔25〕　见《圣经·马太福音》第26章11节和《圣经·以西结书》第18章第2节。

〔26〕　《圣经·以西结书》第18章3—4节。

〔27〕　查普曼（George Chapman，1559—1634），英国剧作家、诗人。下面的诗句引自《凯撒与庞培》第五幕第二场。

〔28〕　希腊神话中的非难指责与嘲弄之神。

〔29〕　罗马神话中掌管智慧、工艺和战争的女神,相当于希腊神话中的雅典娜。

〔30〕　这里指的是美国南方一些种植园买卖黑奴的勾当。

〔31〕　罗马神话中的曙光女神。

〔32〕　奥罗拉之女，传说底比斯的曼侬雕像在黎明时分会传出乐声。

〔33〕　古亚叙国王，以生活奢侈而闻名。

〔34〕　从殖民时代起，乔纳森就成了新英格兰人的称谓，后来指美国人。

〔35〕　爱德华·约翰逊（Edward Johnson，1598—1672），美国早期的历史学家。

〔36〕　原荷兰殖民地，现美国纽约州一带。

〔37〕　见荷马史诗《伊利亚特》。

〔38〕　这些人包括爱默生（Ralph Waldo Emerson，1803—1882，美国作家、哲学家和美国超验主义的核心人物）、阿尔科特（Amos Bronson Alcott，1799—1888，美国教育家及先验论哲学家）和钱宁（W.E.Channing，1780—1842，美国基督教公理会自由派牧师、著作家）以及居住在康科德的农人。

〔39〕　即现在的哈佛大学。

〔40〕　亚当·斯密（1723—1790），苏格兰经济学家，古典政治经济学的代表。

〔41〕　李嘉图（1772—1823），英国经济学家，古典政治经济学的代表。

〔42〕　萨伊（1802—1876），法国经济学家。

我的栖身之所，我的人生目的

在我们生命中的某个时节，我们惯于把每个地方都当作自己可以安家落户的栖身之所。如此一来，我将自己住所周围方圆12英里之内的乡野全都考察遍了。在想象中，我已经接二连三买下了所有的农场，因为所有这些农场终归都会被人买下，而且它们的价钱我也心里有数。我走遍了每一所农舍，尝尝他们的野苹果，和他们聊聊农活儿，在心里盘算着按他开的价钱买下他的农场，不拘价格高低，然后再抵押给他；甚至付更高的价钱——买下这一切，唯独没有立下一纸契约——而是把他的话当作契约，因为我极爱与人谈天说地——我自以为耕耘了那片土地，在某种程度上也耕耘了他的心田；在享受了足够的乐趣之后，我起身离开，留下他一人继续耕耘。由于这番经历，朋友们都把我当成了房产经纪人。无论我走到哪里，都可以在那里生活，无限风景便自然而然地从我身边延伸开去。所谓住所，不就是一个可以驻足的地方，可以坐下歇息的一席之地吗？——如果是在乡村就更好了。我发现不少地方都可以建造房屋，地价似乎在短时间内不会上升，有些人可能会觉得离村子太远了，而在我眼里，是村子离它太远了。我说，嗯，这地方可以住下来；我也的确在那里度过了一个小时，感受了夏日和冬季；我目睹了岁月如何流转，捱过严冬，迎接春天的来临。这个地区未来的居民，无论把住所建在何处，有一点是肯定的，那就是，已经有人先于他们在这里生活过了。只需一个下午，就能在这片土地上辟出果园、林地和牧场，并且定下来该把哪几棵姿态优雅的橡树和松树留在门前，以及每一棵枯萎的树从什么角度来看最妙不可言；然后我就放手不管了，或者说让它休耕一阵子，因为一个人能放得下的东西越多，就表明他越富有。

我的想象任意驰骋，漫无边际，我甚至想到有几处农场拒绝了我——被拒绝倒是正合我意——但我从来没有因为实实在在拥有农场而吃过苦头。我最接近于真正拥有农场，是买下霍洛威尔农场的那一次，当时我已经开始挑选种子，并且还收集木料准备造一架手推车作装运之用；但在主人把契约交给我之前，他的妻子——每个男人都有这样一个妻子——却改了主意，想留下农场，于是他提出给我10美元，把约定一笔勾销。说实话，当时我在世上的全部财产只有区区10美分，我到底是拥有10美分的那个人，还是拥有一个农场，或者10美元，或许是拥有所有这一切，那可就超出我的算术能力，说不清道不明了。不过我让他留下了那10美元，也让他留下了那农场，因为这次我已经走得够远了；或者不妨说我是个出手大方之人，按买进的原价将农场又卖给了他，而且，鉴于他也并非有钱人，那10美元算是我送给他的礼物，我自己则留有10美分、种子，和准备造手推车的木料。我发现，如此一来，自己当了一回富人，而且无损于原本的贫穷。不过，我把那片风景保留在心里，此后年复一年总能带走那里出产的果实，而且用不着手推车。说到风景——

我目所及皆我臣属，

我权于彼不容置疑。〔1〕

我常常看到一个诗人，他在欣赏了农场最宝贵的部分之后，便径自离去，而执拗的农夫还以为他拿去的只是几枚野苹果而已。诗人其实已经把他的农场写进了诗歌，这是一道绝妙无双的无形栅栏，把农场整个儿围了起来，挤出它的乳汁，脱脂后拿走全部的奶油，只留下脱脂的牛奶，而农场的主人竟然多年来对此一无所知。

在我看来，霍洛威尔农场真正的魅力在于它完全与世隔绝：农场离村子约有两英里，最近的乡邻也在半英里之外，而且还有广袤的田野将它和公路隔开；农场依傍着一条河，据主人说，春天，河上腾起的雾气能使田地免遭霜冻，虽然这对我来说无关紧要；农舍和谷仓呈现出一种灰暗的色调，已是残破不堪，还有那支离破碎的栅栏，犹如在我和先前的居住者之间隔开了一段漫长的岁月；苹果树的树身已经成了空洞，上面布满苔藓，还有兔子啃啮的痕迹，由此可见，我会有些什么样的邻居；但最令我神往的，还是记忆中的情景，那是我最初几次逆流而上的时候，看见屋舍掩映在一簇簇浓密的枫树丛中，听到树丛里传出声声犬吠。我迫不及待地要买下这处农场，不等主人搬走石块，砍倒空心的苹果树，挖掉牧场里刚刚冒出头来的小白桦树，总之，不等他收拾停当我就想买下来。为了享受农场的种种便利，我准备把它继续经营下去；就像阿特拉斯〔2〕一样把整个世界扛在肩上——我从未听说他为此得到过什么好处——我甘愿承担这一切，没有任何别的动机或借口，只为付清账款，好安安稳稳地拥有这座农场；因为我一直很清楚，我只要能够做到顺其自然，农场自会如我所期望的那样五谷丰登。但是结果呢，前文已经交代过了。

所以，关于大规模的农耕（我一直在种植一个园子），我唯一能说的就是，我已经准备好了种子。许多人认为，历时弥久，种子则越优良。时间能甄别优劣，我对此深信不疑；因此，等到我最终播种的时候，我就更不可能大失所望了。但我要告诉我的朋友们：尽可能过一种自由自在、无拘无束的生活——这话我仅说一次，也是最后一次。死心塌地地料理一个农场，跟关在县政府的监狱里几乎没有什么分别。

老加图〔3〕的《农书》成了我的“栽培者”，他在书中说，“当你想要买下一座农场的时候，一定要三思而行，不要出于贪婪去买，也不要偷懒不亲自去看，别以为去转上一遭就够了。你去的次数越多，你就会越喜欢它。”——只可惜我见到的那个唯一的译本把这段话译得面目全非。我觉得我不会因为贪得无厌去买农场，而是在有生之年经常去转转，先深深地沉浸其中，而后才能最终获得更大的乐趣。

现在要说的是我接下来的一个类似的试验，我打算更详细地叙述一番；为了方便起见，我把两年的经历合二为一。正如我已经说过的那样，我无意写下一曲沮丧之歌，而要像一只黎明时分的雄鸡，站在栖木上引吭高歌，哪怕只为唤醒我的邻人。

我在林中居住的第一天，也就是说，我开始昼夜生活在那里的第一天，恰巧是1845年7月4日的美国独立日，那时候我的房子还不能抵挡冬季的严寒，只能勉强遮风避雨，既没有抹灰泥，也没有装烟囱，四壁用的是因风雨侵蚀而斑驳变色、粗糙陈旧的木板，缝隙很大，到了晚上屋里极为凉爽。那砍削好的笔直的白色立柱，还有刚刚刨平的门板和窗框，使房子看上去洁净而透气，尤其是在清晨，木头浸透了露水，总使我情不自禁地幻想，到了午间，里面会渗出甜甜的树汁。在我的想象中，房子整整一天都会或多或少带有这种黎明时分的情调，我由此想起了一年前曾经造访过的一座山间小屋。那座小木屋通风良好，而且没有抹灰泥，正适于款待云游至此的神仙，女神也可以拖曳着裙裾翩然而行。吹过我这座木屋的风，恰似那漫卷山脊的风，带来断断续续的人间音乐的旋律，或者只是其中的仙乐片段。晨风永远都在吹拂，创世的诗篇恒久不断；但侧耳倾听者却寥寥无几。奥林匹斯山〔4〕无非是地球的外表，随处可见。

此前，除了一只小船，我曾拥有过的唯一的屋舍就是一顶帐篷，只是在夏季远足的时候偶尔一用，现在仍然束之高阁；但是那条船，几经转手，已经在时间的长河里消失无踪了。有了这个更为实实在在的栖身之所，我在人世间也就进一步安顿下来。虽说覆盖在屋架上的材料很单薄，却在我周身形成了一层结晶，并给建造者施加了某种影响。这多少使人联想到一幅素描。我不必走到屋外去呼吸新鲜空气，因为室内的空气丝毫没有失去清新之感。与其说我坐在屋里，倒不如说是坐在门后，即使在大雨滂沱的天气亦是如此。《哈利梵萨》〔5〕中有云：“巢之无鸟犹如肉之无味。”我的住所可并非如此，因为我突然间发现自己竟然与鸟雀为邻；不是将一只飞鸟囚禁在笼中，而是把自己关在笼子里，近旁就是鸟儿的栖息之地。我不仅离那些时常光顾花园和果园的鸟儿更近了，而且离森林中那些更加狂野，更加令人心情激荡的鸣禽也更近了，它们从来不向村民鸣唱小夜曲，或者说极为罕见——其中有画眉、威尔逊鸫、猩红比蓝雀、山麻雀、三声夜鹰，还有许许多多其他飞禽。

我的住所坐落在一个小湖滨，在康科德村往南约一英里半的地方，地势比村子略高一些，处于镇子与林肯乡之间那片广阔的树林中，往北约两英里便是我们这里唯一的一处著名场所——康科德战场〔6〕；我住在林中的低处，视野之所及最远也就是半英里以外的湖对岸，那里也和其他地方一样被森林所覆盖。头一个星期，每当我从屋里遥望湖面，它给我的印象好似一泓高踞在山坡之上的天池，湖底远远高出其他湖面，日出时分，我看着小湖脱去夜雾织就的衣衫，渐渐地，它那轻柔的涟漪，或者如镜的湖面，开始在各处闪闪烁烁，而此时的雾霭则像幽灵一般悄无声息地向四面八方消散，隐入林中，仿佛是夜间进行的秘密宗教集会悄然散去。就连挂在树上的露珠也不同寻常，似乎比山坡上的露珠更为持久，直到白天更晚的时候才会消失。

8月里，在并不狂野的暴风雨的间隙，这个小小的湖是我最可贵的邻居，那时候，风平浪静，但天空中仍是乌云密布，午后两三点钟左右却像夜晚一样宁静，而画眉鸟的歌声则四处响起，隔岸相闻。这样的湖，唯有此时此刻才宁静如许；湖面上清朗的空气被乌云渲染得一片暗淡，那波光粼粼、倒影重叠的湖水本身就是一个下界天国，自然弥足珍贵。近处的一个山顶上，林木刚刚被砍伐，从那里向南远眺，目光越过小湖，可以望到一片怡人的风景，群山之间有一个巨大的山坳，恰恰形成了湖岸，两面山坡相对倾斜而下，让人感觉仿佛有一条溪涧穿过林木葱郁的山谷从那个方向流淌而出，但实际上溪流并不存在。就这样，我的视线穿越近处的青山翠谷，一直望到远处地平线上更高的山脉，层层山峦被涂抹上了一层天蓝。其实，如果踮起脚尖，我就能看到西北方向的群山，更远，也更蓝，那是天国的造币厂铸造出来的纯蓝色硬币，此外，我还能瞥见村子的一角。但是换个方向，即使原地不动，在林木的环绕之中，我看不到森林上方或森林以外的任何景致。与水相邻而居确实不错，水可以给大地以浮力，让它漂浮起来。就连最小的一眼井水也值得珍视，当你向井中探看的时候，你会发现地球并不是绵延不绝的陆地，而是一片孤岛。这和井水能够冷藏黄油同等重要。我站在这座山峰上，目光越过湖水向萨德伯里草原远眺，适逢洪水季节，我发现草地仿佛升高了，这大概是雾气蒸腾的山谷里产生了海市蜃楼的幻境，恰如盆底的一枚硬币，湖水之外的大地看上去似乎是薄薄的一层硬壳，被小小的一片介于其间的水域分割开来，托举在水面上，成了孤岛，这使我不由得想到，我居住的这块地方只不过是“干地”而已。

虽然从自家屋门口望出去，视野更为狭窄，但我却丝毫没有拥挤和局促之感。牧场足以让我的想象力任意驰骋。小湖对岸，长满矮栎木丛的高原拔地而起，一直向西部的大草原和鞑靼地方〔7〕的干草原延伸，给人类所有的游牧家庭提供了广袤的天地。达莫达拉〔8〕在他的牧群需要更广大的新牧场的时候这样说道：“世界上，唯有可以自由自在地欣赏广阔地平线的人才是幸福的。”

时间和空间都发生了变化，我的居所更靠近宇宙中最吸引我的地方，更接近历史上最令我神往的时代。我的栖身之地和天文学家每晚观察的众多星体一样遥远。我们常常幻想，在宇宙体系的某个偏僻而更为神圣的角落，在仙后座五亮星的后面那远离尘嚣的地方，有着不同寻常的快乐所在。我发现，我的住所其实就处在宇宙中这样一个遁世之所，亘古常新，而且未曾受到亵渎。如果说住在靠近昴星团或毕星团，金牛座或天鹰座的地方是值得一番努力的话，那么我确确实实已经身临其境了，或者说，我和这些星座一样，将尘世远远地抛在身后，像它们一样将闪闪烁烁的微光照向最近的邻居，只有在没有月亮的夜晚才能被看到。我居住在天地万物中这样一个地方——

从前有个牧羊人，

思想如山一般高，

他的羊群在山上，

时时将他来喂养。

试想一下，如果这位牧羊人的羊群总是游荡到比他的思想更高的牧场上去，他的生活会是怎样一番光景？

每一个清晨，都是一份令人愉快的邀请，要我过一种和大自然一样简朴，也可以说是一样纯真的生活。我如同希腊人一般真诚地崇拜曙光女神奥罗拉。我早早起床，沐浴在小湖之中；这是一种宗教般虔诚的仪式，是我所做的最有益的事情之一。据说成汤王的浴盆上刻有这样的文字：“苟日新，日日新，又日新。”〔9〕我深知其中的道理。清晨为我们重现往昔的英雄时代。晨光熹微之时，我敞开门窗坐在屋子里，一只蚊子在我的房间里漫游，不见行迹，也难以想象，它发出微弱的嗡嗡声，深深打动了我，恰如听到颂扬美名的号角声一样。这是荷马的安魂曲；它本身就是传扬四方的《伊利亚特》和《奥德赛》，吟唱着自己的愤怒心绪和漂泊历程。此中大有宇宙的广大无边之感；只要容许它存在，它就会永远张扬世间万物永恒的活力和生生不息。清晨，一天之中最难忘的时刻，正是万物苏醒之时。那时候，我们没有一丝困倦；至少要一个小时，我们身体中日夜沉睡的部分才会醒来。如果我们不是被自己的禀赋所唤醒，而是被某个侍从用手肘生硬地推醒；如果我们不是被自己内心刚刚滋生出的力量和强烈愿望所唤醒，而且还伴随着悠然飘荡的天籁之音和弥漫在空中的沁人馨香，而是被工厂的铃声所惊扰；如果我们醒来时面对的生活并不比入睡之前有所提升，那么这样的一天是毫无期盼可言的——如果这种日子尚且能够称作一天的话；如此说来，黑夜也能结出果实，证明自己是有价值的，并不比白天逊色。一个人如果不相信，比起他虚度的时光，每天都有一个更早、更神圣的黎明时刻，那他就是一个对生活灰心绝望的人，踏上了一条通向黑暗的堕落之路。每一天，在感官生活中断了一段时间之后，人的灵魂，或者不妨说他的各个器官，又重新焕发出活力，他的禀赋也再一次试图创造高尚的生活。可以说，一切值得记忆的事情，都是清晨时刻，在清晨的氛围中发生的。《吠陀经》〔10〕有云：“一切智慧俱在黎明时分醒来。”诗歌和艺术，以及人类最美好、最值得铭记的行为，都源于此刻。所有的诗人和英雄都和曼侬一样，是曙光女神奥罗拉的儿女，在日出时分传扬出美妙的音乐。对于那些思想活跃而富有活力，与太阳同步的人来说，白天是永恒的清晨。钟表如何报时，人们持何种态度，从事何种劳作，全都无关紧要。清晨是我清醒的时刻，内心经受了一次黎明的洗礼。修心养性就是努力摒弃睡眠。倘若人们不是处在昏昏欲睡的状态，何以把白天说得如此不屑？他们并不是不会算计的人啊。他们如若不是睡意沉沉，就会有所作为。清醒到可以从事体力劳动的人数以千百万；但是一百万人中只有一个清醒到可以进行有效的智力劳动，一亿人中只有一个人能够过一种诗意的生活，或者说是超凡脱俗的生活。清醒就是具有活力。我从未遇到过一个异常清醒的人。如果遇上了，我又怎能泰然自若地直视他呢？

我们必须学会重新醒来，并保持清醒状态，不是借助于机械的方式，而是通过对黎明的无限期盼，即使在我们最酣畅的睡眠中，黎明也不会抛弃我们。毫无疑问，人完全有能力通过有意识的努力来提升自己的生活，我所知道的最令人鼓舞的事情莫过于此。能够描绘出一幅独特的画，或者雕刻出一尊塑像，从而使一些事物得到美化，这的确是不同凡响；但能够雕刻和描绘出我们观察事物的氛围和媒介，就更值得称道了，这一点我们在精神上是能够做到的。能够对时代特征施加影响，才是艺术的最高境界。每个人都有责任使自己的生活，甚至包括生活的细枝末节，都经得起在他最高尚最苛责的时候进行审视。如果我们拒绝，或者用尽了我们得到的这微不足道的一点儿知识，神谕自会清楚地告诉我们如何做到这一点。

我幽居在森林中，是因为我希望生活得从容淡定，只面对生活的基本现实，看看是否能够学到生活教给我的一切，而不是等到弥留之际才发现自己从未真正生活过。我不想过一种不是生活的生活，人生在世如此珍贵；我也不想与世隔绝，除非势在必行。我希望能够深入地生活，吸取生活的所有精髓，过一种坚强的、斯巴达式的生活，去除一切不是生活的东西，刈出一个宽阔的地带，再细细修整，把生活逼入困境，简化到极点，如果事实证明生活是卑微的，那么就把全部的、真实的卑微之处拿出来，公之于众；如果生活是崇高的，那就去亲身体验，这样就可以在下一次旅行时做出真实的记述。在我看来，似乎大多数人对于生活都琢磨不透，不知道它是属于魔鬼，还是属于上帝，这真是不可思议，他们多少有些草率地得出结论，认为人生归根到底是为了“颂扬上帝，永享他的赐福”。

然而，我们还是生活得很卑微，如蚁蝼一般；尽管神话告诉我们，很久以前我们已经变成了人〔11〕，但是我们仍然像俾格米矮人一样和仙鹤奋战〔12〕；这真是错上加错，重创累累，我们最卓越的美德此刻却成了多余的、本可以避免的苦难。我们的生命消磨在琐碎之中。一个诚实的人，数数仅凭十个手指头就足够了，最多再加上十个脚趾，其余的一概不需。简单，简单，再简单！要我说，你的事务只要两三件就足矣，而不是成百上千件；不必数上一百万，半打就够了；账目可以记在你的大拇指指甲上。在文明生活这个波涛汹涌的大海上，时时有阴云蔽日、狂风骤雨、阵阵流沙，还有一千零一件事务需要考虑，如果一个人想要生存下去，不致船只沉没，葬身海底，根本无从抵达目的港，就得依靠精确的航位推测法，能够真正成功的人必定是个了不起的计算高手。简化，再简化。一日不必三餐，如有必要，一餐足以充腹；备上一百道菜大可不必，五道就足够；其余的东西也以此类推，相应减少。我们的生活就像是一个德意志联邦，由许多小邦国组成，边界永远变化不定，甚至于连一个德国人也无法随时说出边界如何划分。附带说一句，国家所谓的内部改进，全都是表面文章，肤浅之极，国家本身就是这样一个艰难运转的庞大机构，里面塞满了家具，无异于作茧自缚，由于缺乏深思熟虑和崇高的目标，由于穷奢极欲和挥霍无度而毁掉了自己，就像这个国家里的上百万户居民一样；对于国家而言，唯一的对策和居民一样，那就是厉行节约，过一种严以律己、比斯巴达人还要简单的生活，树立更高的人生目标。现在人们的生活太放荡不羁了。人们认为商业对于国家是必不可少的，出口冰块，电报往来，一小时行进30英里也是势在必行，毫不怀疑是否有此必要；但是，我们究竟应该活得像狒狒，还是像人，却有点儿模棱两可。如果我们不去铺设枕木，锻造铁轨，不夜以继日地忙于工作，而是得过且过，将就着改善自己的生活，那么谁来修建铁路呢？如果铁路没有修好，我们又如何及时抵达天堂呢？不过，如果我们待在家里心无旁骛，谁又需要铁路呢？其实不是铁路承载我们，而是我们承载着铁路。你们是否想过，那铺在铁路下面的枕木是什么？每一根枕木都是一个人，一个爱尔兰人，或者一个新英格兰人。铁轨就铺设在他们的身躯之上，他们被沙土掩埋，一列列车厢平稳地从他们身上驶过。我敢断言，他们就是沉睡不醒的枕木。每隔几年就会有一批新的枕木用来铺设铁路，让火车从上面碾过；因此，如果有人兴致勃勃地乘坐火车，就会有人不幸地被碾压。当他们从一个梦游者身上驶过，也就是一根错位的、多余的枕木，把他惊醒了，他们就会紧急刹车，大惊小怪地叫嚷起来，仿佛这是一个例外。我听说每隔5英里就需要一帮人负责让枕木平稳地卧在路基上，为此感到甚为欣喜，因为这是一个迹象，表明哪一天他们有可能重新站立起来。

我们为什么要生活得如此匆忙，如此耗费生命？我们决意要在没有感到饥饿的时候忍饥挨饿。人们常说，“一针及时省九针”，因此，他们今天缝上一千针，省得日后缝九千针。至于工作，我们徒劳无益，没有任何结果。我们得了圣维特斯舞蹈病，根本无法让自己的脑袋静止不动。只要我在教区拽几下钟绳，像报火警那样，也就是说不等钟声响彻，我敢说康科德近郊的农场上几乎没有一个男人，尽管早上还几次三番找借口说自己忙得不可开交，也没有一个男孩或女人，不会丢下手头的一切活计，循着钟声跑来；实话实说，他们的主要目的倒不是为了从大火中抢救财产，而是为了一睹火势如何，因为火是一定会烧下去的，况且，要知道，火并不是我们放的——或者，他们是跑来看怎样灭火的，如果可以大显身手，还可以助上一臂之力；说真的，哪怕是教区里的教堂失了火，他们也是如此。人们午餐后小憩了不到半个小时，待睡醒之后，抬头就问：“有什么新闻没有？”仿佛世界上其余的人都在为他站岗。有人吩咐每隔半个小时就把他叫醒，显然别无他意；然后，作为回报，他们把自己的梦境讲述一番。一夜睡眠之后，新闻和早餐一样不可或缺。“请给我讲讲这个星球上任何地方任何人所碰到的新鲜事儿。”——他一边喝咖啡，吃面包卷，一边浏览新闻，从中获悉有一个人当天早晨在瓦奇托河上被挖掉了眼睛；可是他连做梦也没有想到，自己在这个世界上就生活在一个黯淡无光、深不可测的巨大黑洞里，只有先天不足的眼睛。

对我来说，没有邮局也无甚大碍。我觉得，通过邮局进行的重要交流少之又少。严格说来，我一生中只收到过一两封信值得花费邮资——这话是我几年前写下的。所谓便士邮政，一般来说是这样一个机构，你郑重其事地付出一便士，为的是得到他的思想，结果得到的往往是玩笑话。而且我可以肯定地说，我在报纸上从未读到任何值得铭记在心的消息。如果我们获悉有人遭到抢劫，或者惨遭杀害，或者死于非命，或者读到一座房子毁于大火，一艘船失事沉没，一艘汽轮突然爆炸，或者一条奶牛在西部铁路上被碾死，一条疯狗被杀掉，冬天里出现了一大群蝗虫——我们根本就不必再读别的什么。一条就足够了。如果你已经对这个原则了然于心，又何必去关心那些不可胜数的实例和应用呢？对于一个哲学家来说，一切所谓的新闻都是闲言碎语，只有上了年纪的妇女才会一边喝茶一边编辑和阅读这些东西。然而，热衷于这种闲言碎语的却大有人在。我听说，前几天有一大群人蜂拥进一家报社，想了解最新的国外新闻，以至于把报社的好几面方形大玻璃窗都挤破了，——而我则当真认为，这种新闻，一个思维灵敏的人在十二个月或十二年前就能写得八九不离十。比方说西班牙，你只要知道怎样将唐·卡洛斯和公主，以及唐·彼得罗、赛维涅和格拉纳拉这些名字以恰如其分的比例安插进去就行了——有些名字可能和我当年看报的时候有所不同——在拿不出别的娱乐新闻的时候，可以奉上一则斗牛表演的报道，这可是真真切切的新闻，将西班牙的具体状况或者说衰落局面呈现给我们，和报纸上以此为标题的最简洁明了的报道也不相上下；至于英国，来自那里的最后一条重要新闻差不多就是1649年的革命了；如果你了解谷物在英国历史上的平均产量，你就再也不会去留心这类事情了，除非你的目的是为了做投机生意。如果让一个难得看报的人来评判的话，国外很少发生什么新鲜事儿，连法国革命也不例外。

新闻算得了什么！要了解永不过时的事物，那才重要得多啊！“蘧伯玉（卫大夫）使人于孔子。孔子与之坐而问焉。曰：夫子何为？对曰：夫子欲寡其过而未能也。使者出。子曰：使乎，使乎。”〔13〕劳作了整整一个星期的农人，在周末的休息日里个个昏昏欲睡——因为星期日是为糟糕的一周做一个恰当的结尾，而不是为新的一周来一个崭新而大胆的开始，这时候，牧师偏偏不是在他们耳边进行冗长乏味的布道，而是用雷鸣一般的嗓音吼道——“停下！且慢！为什么看起来这么快，实际上却慢得要死？”

虚伪和谬见被推崇为最可靠的真理，而现实却成了虚构。如果人们坚持不懈地只是观察现实，不让自己受到蒙蔽，那么，和我们已知的事物相比，生活就宛如童话和《天方夜谭》里的故事一般。如果我们只尊重不可避免和有权利存在的事物，音乐和诗歌就会回荡在大街小巷。当我们从容不迫、明智审慎的时候，我们就会意识到，只有伟大和有价值的事物才能永久而绝对地存在——微不足道的恐惧和快乐只不过是现实的影子。现实永远使人振奋，令人崇敬。人们闭上双眼，昏昏沉沉，任凭各种假象误导自己，才会形成无处不在的日常生活习俗并且逐日加深，而这些习俗正是建立在纯粹幻想的基础上。嬉戏玩耍的孩童，却能比大人更清晰地认识到生活的真正规律和关系，而那些生活得毫无价值的大人们，却认为自己阅历丰富，因而更为明智，其实所谓的阅历也就是失败。我在一本印度的书里读到：“有一个王子，自幼被逐出故乡，被一个居住在森林里的人收养，就在那种环境下长大成人。王子一直认为自己属于跟他共同生活的原始民族。后来，他父亲手下的一位大臣找到了他，向他揭示了他的真实身份，从此消除了他对自己身世的误解，他这才知道自己是一位王子。”这位印度哲学家继续讲道：“灵魂因受其所处环境的影响而弄错了自己的身份，直到某位神圣的导师向他揭示真相，他才知道自己是梵〔14〕。”我感到，我们这些新英格兰的居民过着现在这种卑微的生活，是因为我们的眼光无法穿透事物的表面。我们把表象看成了事物的本质。假设一个人从镇子里走过，眼中所见只是现实事物，那么你想想看，“磨坊水坝”何在？如果他向我们描述在镇子里眼见为实的东西，这个“磨坊水坝”是我们无从得知的。看看礼拜堂或县府大楼，要么就是监狱、商店、住宅，然后说说你亲眼目睹的事物究竟是什么，它们在你的讲述中都会变得支离破碎。人们总是尊崇遥不可及的真理，体制以外的真理，最遥远的星球之后的真理，在亚当以前和人类灭绝之后的真理。永恒之中确实存在着某种真实而崇高的东西。但是，所有的时间、地点和机会都定格在此时此刻。上帝本身的至高无上就体现于此刻，不会随着时间的流逝而变得更加神圣。我们只有自始至终完全融入并渗透在周围的现实事物中，才能领悟什么是崇高和高尚。宇宙持续不断地、顺从地适应我们的观念，无论我们的步伐是快是慢，轨道已经为我们铺好。让我们把一生都用来构想吧。诗人和艺术家从未有过如此美好和崇高的构思，不过至少他们的子孙后代中有人能够实现。

让我们像大自然一样从容不迫地过上一天，不要因为掉落在轨道上的坚果壳和蚊子的翅膀而脱离轨道。让我们清晨即起，轻手轻脚，平心静气，吃不吃早餐都无所谓；哪管他人来人往，哪管他钟声鸣响，稚子哭啼——下定决心好好过上一天。我们为什么要屈服，要随波逐流呢？我们千万不要在那子午线浅滩处的激流漩涡中倾覆沉没，那可怕的激流和漩涡叫作“午餐”。一旦度过这个险关，接下来你就平安无事，一路顺风了。这时候，要以毫不松懈的意志和清晨的活力，像尤利西斯〔15〕一样把自己捆在桅杆上，眼睛望着另一个方向从它旁边掠过。如果汽笛鸣响，就让它没完没了地鸣叫吧，直到声嘶力竭。如果钟声响起，我们为什么要跑？我们倒要思忖一番那是什么音乐。让我们定下心来，涉足于各种观念、偏见、传统、错觉和表象的泥沼之中——这污浊淤积在整个地球之上；让我们穿越巴黎和伦敦，穿越纽约、波士顿和康科德，穿越教堂和国家，穿越诗歌、哲学和和宗教，直至抵达坚硬的底部和稳固的岩石——我们称之为“现实”，并说，正是这里，没错；有了这个基点〔16〕，就可以在山洪、冰霜和火焰之下的某个地方，开始修建一堵墙或一个国家，或是竖起一根牢固的灯柱，也许是测量仪，不是尼罗河水位测量标尺，而是现实测量仪，这样一来，未来的年代就可以了解到，日积月累的、如洪水泛滥一般的虚伪和表象有多么深不可测。如果你笔直挺立，直面一个事实，就会看到，阳光在它的两面熠熠生辉，仿佛是一把短弯刀，你会感到它那可爱的刀锋正在划开你的心脏和骨髓，此情此景之下，你情愿无比快乐地结束自己的人间经历。不论是生抑或是死，我们渴求的唯有真实。倘若我们真要离开人世，就让我们听到自己临终前发出的喉音，感觉寒冷在四肢蔓延；倘若我们活着，就让我们忙于自己的事情吧。

时间，不过是我垂钓的小溪。我啜饮溪中之水；饮着溪水的时候，我看到了铺着细沙的河底，发现它竟然如此之浅。细细的水流潺潺而过，但永恒长存。我愿开怀畅饮；在天空中垂钓，那上面缀满了鹅卵石一般的星星。我却连一颗也数不出。我连字母表中的第一个字母都不认识。我一直感到懊悔，自己还不如初降人世的时候那般聪颖。智力是一把利刃；待它分辨清楚后，就一路切入事物的秘密所在。我不想让自己的双手为不必要的事情而忙碌。我的头脑就是手和脚。我感到自己的最佳能力都集中于此。由本能而知，我的头脑是用来挖掘的，正如某些动物用鼻子和前爪来打洞，我要用自己的头脑来挖掘，洞穿这一座座山峦。我感觉，蕴藏最丰富的矿脉就在附近；凭着手里的占卜杖和升腾而起的薄雾，我作此判断；我也将在这里开始采矿。

注释

〔1〕　引自英国诗人威廉·柯珀（William Cowper, 1731—1800）的诗《亚历山大·塞尔科克》。

〔2〕　希腊神话中以肩顶天的巨神，比喻身负重担的人。

〔3〕　卡托（Marcus Porcius Cato, 234—149B. C. ），古罗马政治家、作家，拉丁散文文学开创者，著有《史源》、《农书》等。

〔4〕　奥林匹斯山，希腊北部靠近爱琴海海岸的一列山，是希腊境内最高点，也是希腊诸神的家园。

〔5〕　公元5世纪印度的一部史诗。

〔6〕　1775年4月19日美国独立战争第一天作战的战场。

〔7〕　指中世纪时受蒙古人统治的自东欧至亚洲的广大地区。

〔8〕　亦名克利须那，印度教三大神之一毗湿奴的第八代化身。

〔9〕　见《大学》，“汤之盘铭”。

〔10〕　印度婆罗门教最古老的经典。

〔11〕　希腊神话中，宙斯之子说服宙斯，将蚂蚁变成了人。

〔12〕　见荷马史诗《伊利亚特》第三卷第五章。

〔13〕　引自《论语》第十四篇《宪问》。

〔14〕　印度教的三位主神之一，为创造之神，亦指众生之本，或智慧的象征。

〔15〕　希腊神话中，海员们常被半人半鸟的海妖塞壬的美妙歌声所迷惑，以致船只触礁沉没。荷马史诗《奥德赛》第十二卷中提到，尤利西斯为了不受诱惑，把自己捆在了桅杆上。

〔16〕　原文为法语。

冬日里的动物

当湖泊被坚冰覆盖之时，不仅到许多地方去都有了新的捷径，而且站在湖面上朝四下里张望，素日熟悉的风景也会呈现出新奇的景象。尽管我经常在弗林特湖上划着船四处徜徉，也曾在湖面上溜冰，但是，当我走在银装素裹的湖面上，出人意料的是，它显得如此宽广，如此陌生，我心里想到的唯有巴芬湾〔1〕。白雪皑皑的广袤原野被巍巍矗立的林肯乡的群山环绕着，身临其中，我竟仿佛从来没有驻足于此；在不知有多远的冰面上，渔夫们带着狼犬缓慢地移动，颇像是猎捕海豹的人或爱斯基摩人，遇上雾霭迷蒙的天气，他们又如神话中的灵兽一般若隐若现，说不清是巨人还是侏儒。傍晚时分，我到林肯乡去听演讲的时候，走的就是这条路，从我的小木屋到演讲厅之间，不经过任何道路，也不经过什么人家。途中路过的鹅湖是麝鼠的聚居地，它们的窝高踞在冰层上，可在我走过的时候却看不见一只麝鼠在外面。和别的湖一样，瓦尔登湖通常没有白雪覆盖，就是有，也零零落落，仅是薄薄的一层。它成了我的院落，当别的地方积雪将近两英尺厚，村民被困在街道上无处能去的时候，我可以在这里随心所欲地走来走去。这里远离村子的街道，难得听到雪橇上叮当作响的铃声，我在这里滑雪、溜冰，仿佛置身于一个久经踩踏的巨大的麋鹿苑里，头顶上是橡树和黑黢黢的松树，被积雪压得弯弯的，要么挂满了冰柱。

说到声音，在冬天的夜晚，白天往往也是一样，我总能听到从遥远的地方传来猫头鹰那凄清而悦耳的鸣叫；这种声音是冰冻的土地用合适的琴拨子来弹拨时才能发出的，这正是瓦尔登森林特有的语言，久而久之，这声音对我来说已经无比熟悉，虽然我从未在那只猫头鹰鸣叫的时候见过它。冬夜，只要我打开门，往往能听到它的叫声；呼呼呼，呼儿呼，声音圆润响亮，头三个音节听上去有点儿像“你好啊”；有时候则只有呼呼两声。初冬时节的一个晚上，瓦尔登湖还没有完全封冻，约摸9点钟的时候，一只野鹅的高叫使我一惊，我走到门口，只听得一群野鹅扑打着翅膀低低地掠过我的房子，仿佛林中起了一场风暴。似乎是我的灯光使它们不敢停留，于是它们越过湖面，向美港飞去，领头的那只野鹅有节奏地高叫不止。突然，从离我很近的地方传来一只猫头鹰极为响亮刺耳的尖叫，森林的居民当中还从未听到这种声音，这毫无疑问是一只猫头鹰，它仿佛决心要显示一下土生土长的居民具有更宽的音域和更大的音量，羞辱一番这来自哈得孙湾的不速之客，它作出有节奏的回应，用呼呼的叫声把来犯者逐出康科德的地界。在这神圣不可侵犯的夜晚时刻，你来侵扰我的大本营，用意何在？你以为这个时候会发现我打盹吗，以为我没有和你一样的音量和嗓门吗？布——呼，布——呼，布——呼！这当属我听到过的最令人毛骨悚然的嘈杂之音。不过，如果你的耳朵具有敏锐的辨别力，这其中也有和谐的音调，是周遭的原野上见所未见，闻所未闻的。

我还能听到湖上的冰发出的喘息，在康科德那一带，湖是与我同床而眠的巨大伙伴，它似乎在床上难以入睡，很想翻个身，而且还由于肠胃胀气，噩梦连连而不得安宁；要不然就是土地冻裂的声响把我惊醒，仿佛是有人赶着一群牲口撞在我的门上，第二天早上，我会发现地上裂开了一道十分之一英里长、三分之一英寸宽的缝隙。

有时候，在月色皎洁的夜晚，我还能听到狐狸在雪地里跋涉，四处搜寻山鹧鸪或其他猎物，像猎犬一样发出凶狠刺耳的嗥叫，似乎是急不可耐，又像是试图自我宣泄，努力寻求光明，想就此变成狗，在街道上无拘无束地奔跑；因为，如果我们把时代变迁考虑在内，野兽难道不可能和人类一样具有某种文明吗？在我看来，它们像是原始时代掘洞而居的人类，仍然处在自我防卫阶段，等待转化时刻的到来。有时候，会有一只狐狸被我的灯光所吸引，来到我的窗前，向我发出一声狐狸的诅咒，然后转身逃走。

黎明时分，通常是红松鼠（学名Sciurus Hudsonius）将我唤醒，它们在屋顶上蹿来蹿去，在房子四面的墙壁爬上爬下，仿佛它们从林子里出来，是专门被派来吵醒我的。冬天，我把半蒲式耳还没有成熟的甜玉米穗抛在门前的积雪上，看着被吸引来的各种动物的千姿百态，别有一番情趣。到了黄昏时分和夜里，兔子往往会来饱餐一顿。红松鼠一整天都来来去去，它们耍的小把戏给我带来不少乐趣。起初，一只红松鼠会小心翼翼地钻出橡树丛，它在雪地上跑跑停停，像一片被风卷起的落叶，一会儿往这边跑几步，速度之快令人惊叹，耗费了大量体力，小脚的迅疾让人难以置信，好像要一赌输赢，一会儿又往那边跑几步，步数与刚才相仿，但每次都不超过半杆远；然后，它又带着滑稽可笑的表情，毫无来由地翻个跟头，紧接着蓦然停下，仿佛整个宇宙的所有目光都聚焦在它的身上——因为哪怕是在森林最偏僻幽深之处，松鼠的一举一动都跟舞女一样，仿佛在观众的注目之下——它谨小慎微，拖延再三，浪费了不少时间，要不然早就走完了这段距离——我从没见过松鼠行走的样子——接着，说时迟，那时快，它突然跃上一株小油松的树顶，上足了发条一般，开始喋喋不休地斥责自己想象中的所有观众，既像是自言自语，又像是对着整个宇宙发表讲话——我从来弄不明白这究竟是为什么，恐怕连它自己也未必知道。最后，它终于来到玉米跟前，挑出自己中意的一穗来，然后按着原来的不规则三角形路线，轻快地蹦跳着，来到我窗前的木头堆上，它在最顶端的那根木头上一坐就是几个小时，无所畏惧地直视着我，时不时地再给自己捡来一穗玉米，先是狼吞虎咽，把啃了一半的玉米穗扔得到处都是；后来它挑剔起来，开始摆弄手里的食物，只尝尝玉米粒的芯儿，它用爪子抓着一穗玉米搁在木头上保持平衡，一不小心滑落到地上，这时候，它便做出一副半信半疑的滑稽相，仿佛怀疑玉米穗是活的，拿不定主意是要把它拾起来，还是去拿一穗新的，还是一走了之；它一会儿想想玉米，一会儿听听风里有什么动静。就这样，这个冒冒失失的小家伙一上午就糟蹋了好多玉米穗；最后，它抓起一根又长又饱满的玉米，比自己的个头儿还大，它巧妙地保持着平衡，拖着那穗玉米向森林里进发，就像老虎拖着一头水牛，它还像先前一样，按照之字形路线，左拐右拐，走走停停，很勉强的样子，似乎玉米穗对它来说分量太重了，老是掉下来，而且每次掉落的轨迹总是沿着垂线和横线之间的斜线，看样子，它决心无论如何也要把玉米穗弄回去——真是个少有的轻浮草率、异想天开的家伙——它就这样把玉米穗弄到自己的住处，兴许还会搬到四五十杆以外的一棵松树顶上，过一阵子我就会发现，玉米芯在森林里扔得到处都是。

最后，松鸦飞来了，它们从八分之一英里以外小心翼翼地靠近时，那刺耳的聒噪早就让人未见其形先闻其声，它们偷偷摸摸地从一棵树飞到另一棵树，越飞越近，一路上啄食松鼠掉下的玉米粒。然后，它们落在一棵油松的枝头，急不可耐地将玉米粒一口吞下，可是玉米粒太大了，哽在嗓子眼里，它们费了好大的劲儿才把玉米粒吐出来，又花了一个小时，用尖嘴反反复复啄个不停，想把它啄碎。它们显然是一群窃贼，我对它们可没有什么好感；而那些松鼠呢，虽然一开始有点儿羞怯，可不一会儿就好像拿自己的东西一样大大咧咧地干起来了。

与此同时，山雀也成群结队地飞来了，它们捡起松鼠掉落的碎屑，飞到最近的树枝上，然后用脚爪抓住碎屑，用小小的尖嘴啄个不停，好像啄的是树皮里的一只小虫子，直到碎屑小到可以塞进它们那细小的喉咙。每天都会有一小群山雀前来光顾，它们在我的木头堆里寻寻觅觅，享受一顿美餐，或者在我的门前啄食碎屑，一边发出轻微短促、不甚清晰的鸣叫声，就像是草丛里的冰柱发出叮叮咚咚的声响，要么就是欢快的“得——得——得”的叫声，更为难得的是，在春日一样的暖冬天气，它们会在森林边上发出宛如弹奏琴弦一般的叫声：“菲——比”，让人联想到夏日风情。久而久之，它们渐渐和我熟悉起来，有一只竟然跳到我要抱到屋里去的一捆木柴上，毫不畏惧地在柴火上啄来啄去。有一次，我正在村里的菜园锄地，一只麻雀落到了我的肩膀上，停留片刻才展翅飞去，那一刻我倍感荣耀，是佩戴任何肩章都无法相提并论的。松鼠最后也和我熟络起来，有时候，它们为了抄近路，甚至会从我的鞋子上踩过去。

当大地还没有完全被白雪覆盖，或者冬天即将结束，朝南的山坡和我的木堆上积雪已经开始融化的时候，鹧鸪一早一晚会从林中飞来觅食。无论你走在森林的哪一边，都会有鹧鸪拍打着翅膀呼的一声突然飞离，震得高处的枯叶嫩枝上的积雪纷纷飘落，在阳光下像金色的粉末一样亮闪闪的；这勇敢的鸟儿不会畏惧严冬。它们常常会被一层层积雪掩埋起来，据说，“有时候，它们从空中一头扎进柔软的雪里，一待就是一两天”。日落时分，它们从林子里飞出来，到旷野上啄食野苹果树的嫩芽，也常常被我惊得一飞而起。每天傍晚，它们都准时来到特定的几棵树上，狡猾的猎人早已守候在此，远处靠近森林的果园也深受其扰。不管怎样，鹧鸪总能找到食物，我为此感到庆幸。以嫩芽和清水为生的鸟儿乃自然之造化。

在灰蒙蒙的冬日清晨，或者短短的冬日午后，我有时会听到一群猎犬在林中到处奔走，它们按捺不住捕猎的本能，一边追逐着什么一边狂吠不止，猎号声不时鸣响，说明主人就跟在后面。森林里回荡起犬吠和号角声，但却没有狐狸冲到湖畔的旷野上来，也没有猎狗追逐他们的亚克托安〔2〕。也许到了傍晚，我就能见到猎人们纷纷归来，找个地方过夜，一条毛茸茸的尾巴从他们的雪橇上拖下来，算是战利品吧。他们告诉我，如果狐狸一直待在冻土下的洞里，就能平安无事，如果它沿直线飞速逃跑，没有任何一只猎狗能够追得上它；然而，一旦把追踪者远远抛在身后，它就停下来歇息，一面侧耳倾听猎狗的动静，等到猎狗追上来的时候，它又跑动起来，兜个圈子回到自己的老窝，而猎人们正在此恭候。不过，它有时候会在墙顶上跑出几杆远，然后纵身一跃，远远地落到墙的一侧，而且它似乎知道水中不会留下它的气味。一个猎人对我说，有一次，他看到一只被猎狗追逐的狐狸一下子蹿上瓦尔登湖，当时湖面的冰上恰好布满了浅浅的水洼，那只狐狸在冰面上跑了一阵，又转身回到了原来的岸边。不一会儿，猎狗追来了，但却在这里失去了狐狸的气味痕迹。有时候，一群自己出来捕猎的猎狗经过我的门口，围着我的房子转圈，又是狂吠，又是追逐，对我不理不睬，仿佛是得了狂犬病，什么也无法转移它们的注意力，让它们放弃追逐。它们就这样绕着圈子，直到终于发现一只狐狸新近留下的踪迹，因为一只聪明的猎犬为了追踪猎物什么都可以置之不理。有一天，一个人从列克星敦来到我这里，向我打听他的猎狗，那条猎狗走了很远的路，已经独自捕猎一个星期了。不过，就算我把一切都告诉他，恐怕他也未必明白，因为每当我试图回答他的问题，他总是打断我的话，问道：“你在这儿做什么？”他丢失了一条狗，却找到了一个人。

有个老猎人，说起话来干巴巴的，每年到了湖水最温暖的时候，他都会在瓦尔登湖里洗个澡，顺便来看看我。他告诉我说，许多年前的一个下午，他拿着猎枪在瓦尔登森林里转来转去；走在韦兰公路上的时候，他听到猎犬的吠声由远及近，不一会儿功夫，一只狐狸翻墙而入，跳到公路上，转眼间又飞快地跃过另一堵墙，逃离了公路，他举枪就射，却没有打中。一只老猎犬带着自己的三只幼犬随后紧追而来，它们在独自捕猎，接着又隐没在森林里。那天下午临近傍晚的时候，他在瓦尔登湖南面的密林里休息，远远听到从美港方向传来了猎狗的狂吠，它们还在穷追不舍，正向他这边靠近，吠叫声回荡在整个森林里，越来越近，一会儿是来自维尔草场，一会儿是来自贝克农场。他久久地站在那里，一动不动，谛听这天籁之音，在猎人的耳朵里这真是无比美妙的音乐。突然，狐狸出现了，它迈着轻快的步子，急速穿过晦暗的小径，树叶发出沙沙的声响，似乎在表示同情，掩盖了狐狸的动静。那只狐狸动作敏捷，无声无息地贴着地面奔跑，把追逐者远远抛在身后；然后，它跳上林中的一块石头，直直地坐在那里侧耳倾听，背对着猎人。片刻之间，恻隐之心让猎人不忍抬起手臂，但这种心情转瞬即逝，说时迟，那时快，猎人举枪瞄准，“砰”的一声——狐狸滚下岩石，倒地而死。猎人仍旧原地不动，听着猎犬的声音。猎狗还是步步紧逼，这时候，附近的森林里，每一条小径都回荡着它们凶恶的吠声。最后，那条老猎狗首先出现在猎人的视线里，鼻子在地上嗅来嗅去，着了魔似的对着空气狂吠，然后直奔那块岩石而来；不过，一看到那只死狐狸，它就突然停住脚步，仿佛被惊呆了，默默地绕着那只死狐狸转了一圈又一圈；小猎犬也接二连三地赶到了，和它们母亲一样，眼前的谜团使它们一声不响。猎人走上前来，站在它们中间，才算揭开了谜底。猎人剥狐狸皮的时候，它们静静地等着，后来又跟在狐狸尾巴后面走了一会儿，最后才转身跑回森林。那天晚上，一个韦斯顿的乡绅来到康科德，在猎人的小屋里向他打听自己的猎狗，他说，一个星期以来，那些猎狗一直独自在韦斯顿森林里捕猎。康科德的猎人把自己知道的情况以实相告，还要把狐狸皮给他；但对方婉言谢绝，告辞而去。那天夜里，他没有找到自己的猎犬，不过，第二天他得知，他的猎犬已经过了河，在一家农舍过了一夜，第二天一大早，它们吃饱喝足后就离开了。

向我讲述这件事情的猎人还记得一个叫山姆·纳丁的人，此人过去常常在美港岩猎熊，把熊皮拿到康科德村换朗姆酒喝；他告诉猎人，自己甚至还在那里看见过一头驼鹿。纳丁有一条有名的猎狐犬，名字叫做伯格涅——他总是叫成伯金——给我讲这件事情的人经常借用这条猎狐犬。镇子里有位老商人，同时还兼任地方长官、镇文书和议员，我在他的“陈年老账”里看到了这样的条目：1742—1743年1月18日，“约翰·梅尔文，贷方，一张灰狐狸皮，零元二角三分”，如今这里已经见不着灰狐狸了；他的分类账里记录着，1743年2月7日，赫兹基亚·斯特拉顿“用半张猫皮，贷款零元一角四分半”。当然，是猞猁皮，因为斯特拉顿在法兰西战争期间是名中士，不会拿连猞猁都不如的猎物来贷款。鹿皮也能用来贷款，每天都能卖得出去。有个人至今还保留着在这一带射杀的最后一只鹿的鹿角，还有一个人向我详细描述了他叔叔参加过的一次捕猎的情景。先前这里猎人很多，是一群快活的家伙。我清清楚楚地记得，有一个瘦削的猎人，他在路边随手捡起一片树叶，就能吹出曲调来，如果我没记错的话，那旋律比任何猎号的吹奏声都更狂放，也更悦耳。

在有月亮的午夜时分，有时我会在路上碰到几条猎狗，正在森林里四处搜寻，它们总是避开我，好像有些害怕，一声不响地躲在灌木丛里，直到我从旁边走过。

为了我储藏的那些坚果，松鼠和野鼠争吵不休。我的房子周围有几十棵油松，直径从一英寸到四英寸不等，去年冬天被老鼠啃啮过——对它们来说，那是个挪威式的冬季，下雪的日子很长，积雪又深，它们迫不得已，只能靠大量啃食松树皮来弥补食物的不足。尽管树皮被咬掉了一圈，这些树在仲夏时节分明还活着，而且枝繁叶茂，其中不少都长高了一英尺；但是，经过了又一个冬天之后，它们无一例外，全都枯死了。就这样任凭一只老鼠吃掉一棵树，真令人惊叹，这些老鼠不是上下啃，而是绕着圈子啃；不过，要想让林木稀疏一点，这也许是必要的，林子里的树往往长得过于密集。

野兔（学名Lepus Americanus）根本不怕人。有一只野兔整个冬天都把巢穴安在我的地板下面，和我仅有一板之隔，每天早上我起身的时候，它就匆忙逃窜，总是吓我一跳——砰，砰，砰，慌乱之中，它的脑袋撞在地板的木头上。黄昏时分，它们常常到我门口来吃我扔出去的土豆皮，它们的颜色和土地如此接近，静止不动的时候，几乎让人分辨不出来。在黎明或日暮的微光里，一动不动蹲在我窗下的野兔时而看得见，时而看不见。到了傍晚，我一打开门，它们就尖叫着蹦跳而去。近在咫尺的时候，它们只会勾起我的怜惜之情。一天晚上，一只野兔坐在我的门口，离我只有两步远，它起先被吓得瑟瑟发抖，却又不愿意逃开；可怜的小东西，瘦得皮包骨头，耳朵残破不全，鼻子尖尖的，秃尾巴，细脚爪。看它这样子，好像大自然再也没有什么更高贵的品种了，只有拿它来充数。它那大大的眼睛放射出年轻的光泽，但显得不那么健康，简直像得了水肿一样。我向前迈了一步，瞧，它一个灵敏的弹跳，从雪地上飞跑而去，身体和四肢伸展开来，显得无比优雅，转眼之间就逃到了森林的另一边——这自由的、充满野性的动物，表现出了自己的活力和大自然的尊严。它长得如此纤瘦是不无道理的。这是它的天性。（有人认为，野兔的学名Lepus源于levipes，是腿脚灵活的意思。）

要是没有了兔子和鹧鸪，田野何以称之为田野？它们是最普通的土生土长的动物，属于古老而珍贵的科目，从古至今都为人所知；它们的颜色和本体都来自于大自然，与树叶和大地最为息息相关——彼此之间也亲密相依；不是凭借翅膀，就是依靠腿。当一只野兔或一只鹧鸪突然逃走的时候，你看到的似乎不是一只野生动物，而只是大自然的一个组成部分，和沙沙作响的树叶一样是自然而然的事情，早在预料之中。不管发生什么样的革命，鹧鸪和野兔必然会照旧繁衍生息，就像这片土地上真正的土著一样。如果森林被砍伐，重新生长出来的嫩枝和灌木丛会为它们提供遮蔽，它们还会繁殖得更多。连一只野兔都养活不了的乡野，必定是个极度贫瘠的地方。在我们的森林里，这两种动物都大量存在，每一处沼泽的四周，都可以看到野兔或鹧鸪出没其间，周围是牧童用细枝编成的篱笆和用马鬃做的陷阱。

注释

〔1〕　在格陵兰和加拿大的巴芬岛之间。

〔2〕　希腊神话中的一位年轻猎人，因无意中看到月亮和狩猎女神阿耳忒弥斯沐浴而被她变为牡鹿，并最终被他自己的狗群咬死。

结束语

［……］

不要给我爱情，不要给我金钱，也不要给我名誉，给我真理吧。我坐在摆满珍馐美酒的餐桌旁，侍从也极尽巴结逢迎，但我却感受不到诚意和真情；我离开那冷漠的餐桌，依旧饥肠辘辘。这种盛情款待实则冷若冰霜。我觉得不需要冰块就能把他们冷冻起来。他们向我谈起葡萄酒的年份以及产地的名气，而我却想起一种更陈、更新、更纯的酒，其产地也更负盛名，那是他们没有，而且也买不到的佳酿。时尚、豪宅、庭院和“娱乐”对我来说了无意义。我去拜访国王，他却让我在大厅里等候，言谈举止就像是丧失了热诚待客的能力。在我的住所附近，有一个人住在一棵空心的树里。他举手投足颇具王者之风。如果我去拜访他，情形会好得多。

我们要无所事事地在门廊里坐上多长时间，专为实践这穷极无聊、陈腐过时的美德？任何工作都会使这种做法显得荒谬之至。就好像一个人，每一天的开始都是长期忍受痛苦，还要雇人去锄他的土豆地；下午则怀着预先设想好的善心，去施行基督徒的谦恭和仁爱！想一想中国的自负和人类停滞不前的自满。这一代人斜靠在那里，庆贺自己是名门望族的最后一代；在波士顿、伦敦、巴黎和罗马，他们脑子里想着自己那历史悠久的世系血统，心满意足地大谈自己在艺术、科学和文学方面的进步。还有哲学学会的记载，还有大庭广众之下为“大人物”歌功颂德！这就是善良的亚当在思考自己的美德。“确实，我们完成了伟大的事业，也唱过神圣的歌曲，它们将永世长存”——也就是说，只要我们铭记在心。亚述〔1〕的学术团体和伟大人物——现在都到哪里去了？我们这些哲学家和试验家是多么年轻啊！我的读者当中，还没有一个人度过了整个人生。在人类的生命中，这可能不过是春天几个月的光阴。如果我们经历了七年之痒〔2〕，也还尚未看到康科德的十七年蝉〔3〕呢。我们所熟知的仅仅是我们赖以生存的地球上的一张薄膜。多数人从未深入到地面以下6英尺的地方，也从未跳到地面以上6英尺的地方。我们不知道自己身在何处。除此以外，我们几乎有一半时间都在酣睡。然而，我们还以聪明者自居，在地球表面建立起了秩序。我们真可谓是深刻的思想家，而且具有远大抱负。我站在森林里，密切注视一只昆虫在地面上的松针之间爬来爬去，拼命想避开我的视线，看到这里，我不禁问自己，它为何怀有如此微贱的想法，把自己的头藏起来不让我看到，我兴许会施恩于它，给它这个族类带来一些让它们欢欣鼓舞的消息呢，这时，我想到了更伟大的施恩者和智者，他正密切注视着我这只人虫。

在这个世界上，新鲜事物层出不穷，然而我们却忍受着难以置信的愚蠢。我只需指出，在一些最开明的国家，人们还在听些什么样的说教就够了。其中有欢乐和悲伤这类词句，但主题都只是赞美诗，用浓重的鼻音哼唱出来，而我们信奉的却是平庸低劣的东西。我们认为只能改换自己的衣装。据说大英帝国非常之大，而且备受尊崇，而美国只是一个一流强国。我们不相信每个人背后都有潮涨潮落，能让大英帝国像木屑一样漂浮起来，如果他心里存有此念的话。有谁知道，下一次从地下钻出来的，会是什么样的十七年蝉？我生活的这个世界的政府，并不像是英国政府那样，是在晚宴之后喝酒聊天之间建立起来的。

我们的生命犹如河中之水。今年有可能涨到人类闻所未闻的高度，淹没枯焦干裂的高地；这甚至还有可能是个多事之秋，所有的麝鼠都因为洪水而四散逃窜。我们并不总是居住在干地上。在遥远的内陆，我看到过，在没有关于洪水的科学记录之前，自古以来就曾被水流冲刷的那些古老的河岸。有一个故事在新英格兰地区广为流传，每个人都有所耳闻，说的是有一只强壮而又美丽的虫子，从一张旧桌子那干燥的活动面板里爬了出来，而那张用苹果木做成的桌子已经在一位农夫的厨房里放了60年，先是在康涅狄格，后来又搬到马萨诸塞——这虫子是从一个许多年前苹果树还活着的时候就留存在树上的虫卵里孵化出来的，数一数树上的年轮就能知晓；一连几个星期，人们都能听见它在里面啃咬的声音，也许是罐子的热量促使它破卵而出。听了这个故事，有谁不会感到自己增强了复活和永生的信心呢？这枚虫卵起初寄存在一棵活着的树木那青绿的边材上，这棵树慢慢变得如同风干的坟墓，于是，虫卵便年深日久地被埋藏在一圈圈呈同心圆的木层里，置身于死气沉沉、枯燥乏味的社会生活之中——也许它已经在里面啃咬了数年之久，这家人围坐在餐桌旁尽享欢宴的时候，听到这咬啮声感到万分惊奇。谁能料到，从社会中最不起眼的、初次尝试制作的一件家具中，会冒出怎样一只美丽的、生有翅膀的生命，最终享受了自己完美的夏日生活！

我并不是说约翰或乔纳森〔4〕会意识到所有这一切；然而，明天就是这样，时间尽管流逝，却永远无法带来黎明。对于我们来说，使我们的眼睛熄灭的光亮就是黑暗。只有我们醒着的时候，才会迎来拂晓。破晓的日子还会更多。太阳不过是一颗晨星。

注释

〔1〕　亚洲西部底格里斯河流域北部一帝国和文明古国。公元前9世纪至7世纪是它的强盛时期。

〔2〕　指夫妻间在结婚七年后常会出现彼此厌倦和移情别恋的现象。

〔3〕　十七年蝉也叫周期蝉，是北美洲特有的品种，以等待孵化的年数命名。

〔4〕　约翰和乔纳森分别指英国人和美国人。

Henry David Thoreau

Where I Lived, and
What I Lived For

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Contents
from Economy

Where I Lived, and What I Lived For

Winter Animals
from the Conclusion

返回总目录

Economy

When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.

I should not obtrude my affairs so much on the notice of my readers if very particular inquiries had not been made by my townsmen concerning my mode of life, which some would call impertinent, though they do not appear to me at all impertinent, but, considering the circumstances, very natural and pertinent. Some have asked what I got to eat; if I did not feel lonesome; if I was not afraid; and the like. Others have been curious to learn what portion of my income I devoted to charitable purposes; and some, who have large families, how many poor children I maintained. I will therefore ask those of my readers who feel no particular interest in me to pardon me if I undertake to answer some of these questions in this book. In most books, the I, or first person, is omitted; in this it will be retained; that, in respect to egotism, is the main difference. We commonly do not remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is speaking. I should not talk so much about myself if there were any body else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience. Moreover, I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men's lives; some such account as he would send to his kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been in a distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed to poor students. As for the rest of my readers, they will accept such portions as apply to them. I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.

I would fain say something, not so much concerning the Chinese and Sandwich Islanders as you who read these pages, who are said to live in New England; something about your condition, especially your outward condition or circumstances in this world, in this town, what it is, whether it is necessary that it be as bad as it is, whether it cannot be improved as well as not. I have travelled a good deal in Concord; and every where, in shops, and offices, and fields, the inhabitants have appeared to me to be doing penance in a thousand remarkable ways. What I have heard of Bramins sitting exposed to four fires and looking in the face of the sun; or hanging suspended, with their heads downward, over flames; or looking at the heavens over their shoulders 'until it becomes impossible for them to resume their natural position, while from the twist of the neck nothing but liquids can pass into the stomach'; or dwelling, chained for life, at the foot of a tree; or measuring with their bodies, like caterpillars, the breadth of vast empires; or standing on one leg on the tops of pillars — even these forms of conscious penance are hardly more incredible and astonishing than the scenes which I daily witness. The twelve labors of Hercules were trifling in comparison with those which my neighbors have undertaken; for they were only twelve, and had an end; but I could never see that these men slew or captured any monster or finished any labor. They have no friend Iolas to burn with a hot iron the root of the hydra's head, but as soon as one head is crushed, two spring up.

I see young men, my townsmen, whose misfortune it is to have inherited farms, houses, barns, cattle, and farming tools; for these are more easily acquired than got rid of. Better if they had been born in the open pasture and suckled by a wolf, that they might have seen with clearer eyes what field they were called to labor in. Who made them serfs of the soil? Why should they eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his peck of dirt? Why should they begin digging their graves as soon as they are born? They have got to live a man's life, pushing all these things before them, and get on as well as they can. How many a poor immortal soul have I met well nigh crushed and smothered under its load, creeping down the road of life, pushing before it a barn seventy-five feet by forty, its Augean stables never cleansed, and one hundred acres of land, tillage, mowing, pasture, and wood-lot! The portionless, who struggle with no such unnecessary inherited encumbrances, find it labor enough to subdue and cultivate a few cubic feet of flesh.

But men labor under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before. It is said that Deucalion and Pyrrha created men by throwing stones over their heads behind them -

Inde genus durum sumus, experiensque laborum,

Et documenta damus quâ simus origine nati.

Or, as Raleigh rhymes it in his sonorous way —

From thence our kind hard-hearted is, enduring pain and care,

Approving that our bodies of a stony nature are.

So much for a blind obedience to a blundering oracle, throwing the stones over their heads behind them, and not seeing where they fell.

Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that. Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he cannot afford to sustain the manliest relations to men; his labor would be depreciated in the market. He has no time to be any thing but a machine. How can he remember well his ignorance — which his growth requires — who has so often to use his knowledge? We should feed and clothe him gratuitously sometimes, and recruit him with our cordials, before we judge of him. The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly.

Some of you, we all know, are poor, find it hard to live, are sometimes, as it were, gasping for breath. I have no doubt that some of you who read this book are unable to pay for all the dinners which you have actually eaten, or for the coats and shoes which are fast wearing or are already worn out, and have come to this page to spend borrowed or stolen time; robbing your creditors of an hour. It is very evident what mean and sneaking lives many of you live, for my sight has been whetted by experience; always on the limits, trying to get into business and trying to get out of debt, a very ancient slough, called by the Latins œs alienum, another's brass, for some of their coins were made of brass; still living, and dying, and buried by this other's brass; always promising to pay; promising to pay, to-morrow, and dying to-day, insolvent; seeking to curry favor, to get custom, by how many modes, only not state-prison offences; lying, flattering, voting, contracting yourselves into a nutshell of civility, or dilating into an atmosphere of thin and vaporous generosity, that you may persuade your neighbor to let you make his shoes, or his hat, or his coat, or his carriage, or import his groceries for him; making yourselves sick, that you may lay up something against a sick day, something to be tucked away in an old chest, or in a stocking behind the plastering, or, more safely, in the brick bank; no matter where, no matter how much or how little.

I sometimes wonder that we can be so frivolous, I may almost say, as to attend to the gross but somewhat foreign form of servitude called Negro Slavery, there are so many keen and subtle masters that enslave both north and south. It is hard to have a southern overseer; it is worse to have a northern one; but worst of all when you are the slave-driver of yourself. Talk of a divinity in man! Look at the teamster on the highway, wending to market by day or night; does any divinity stir within him? His highest duty to fodder and water his horses! What is his destiny to him compared with the shipping interests? Does not he drive for Squire Make-a-stir? How godlike, how immortal, is he? See how he cowers and sneaks, how vaguely all the day he fears, not being immortal nor divine, but the slave and prisoner of his own opinion of himself, a fame won by his own deeds. Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate. Self-emancipation even in the West Indian provinces of the fancy and imagination — what Wilberforce is there to bring that about? Think, also, of the ladies of the land weaving toilet cushions against the last day, not to betray too green an interest in their fates! As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.

When we consider what, to use the words of the catechism, is the chief end of man, and what are the true necessaries and means of life, it appears as if men had deliberately chosen the common mode of living because they preferred it to any other. Yet they honestly think there is no choice left. But alert and healthy natures remember that the sun rose clear. It is never too late to give up our prejudices. No way of thinking or doing, however ancient, can be trusted without proof. What every body echoes or in silence passes by as true to-day may turn out to be falsehood to-morrow, mere smoke of opinion, which some had trusted for a cloud that would sprinkle fertilizing rain on their fields. What old people say you cannot do you try and find that you can. Old deeds for old people, and new deeds for new. Old people did not know enough once, perchance, to fetch fresh fuel to keep the fire a-going; new people put a little dry wood under a pot, and are whirled round the globe with the speed of birds, in a way to kill old people, as the phrase is. Age is no better, hardly so well, qualified for an instructor as youth, for it has not profited so much as it has lost. One may almost doubt if the wisest man has learned any thing of absolute value by living. Practically, the old have no very important advice to give the young, their own experience has been so partial, and their lives have been such miserable failures, for private reasons, as they must believe; and it may be that they have some faith left which belies that experience, and they are only less young than they were. I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors. They have told me nothing, and probably cannot tell me any thing, to the purpose. Here is life, an experiment to a great extent untried by me; but it does not avail me that they have tried it. If I have any experience which I think valuable, I am sure to reflect that this my Mentors said nothing about.

One farmer says to me, 'You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes nothing to make bones with'; and so he religiously devotes a part of his day to supplying his system with the raw material of bones; walking all the while he talks behind his oxen, which, with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumbering plough along in spite of every obstacle. Some things are really necessaries of life in some circles, the most helpless and diseased, which in others are luxuries merely, and in others still are entirely unknown.

The whole ground of human life seems to some to have been gone over by their predecessors, both the heights and the valleys, and all things to have been cared for. According to Evelyn, 'the wise Solomon prescribed ordinances for the very distances of trees; and the Roman prætors have decided how often you may go into your neighbor's land to gather the acorns which fall on it without trespass, and what share belongs to that neighbor.' Hippocrates has even left directions how we should cut our nails; that is, even with the ends of the fingers, neither shorter nor longer. Undoubtedly the very tedium and ennui which presume to have exhausted the variety and the joys of life are as old as Adam. But man's capacities have never been measured; nor are we to judge of what he can do by any precedents, so little has been tried. Whatever have been thy failures hitherto, 'be not afflicted, my child, for who shall assign to thee what thou hast left undone?'

We might try our lives by a thousand simple tests; as, for instance, that the same sun which ripens my beans illumines at once a system of earths like ours. If I had remembered this it would have prevented some mistakes. This was not the light in which I hoed them. The stars are the apexes of what wonderful triangles! What distant and different beings in the various mansions of the universe are contemplating the same one at the same moment! Nature and human life are as various as our several constitutions. Who shall say what prospect life offers to another? Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant? We should live in all the ages of the world in an hour; ay, in all the worlds of the ages. History, Poetry, Mythology! — I know of no reading of another's experience so startling and informing as this would be.

The greater part of what my neighbors call good I believe in my soul to be bad, and if I repent of any thing, it is very likely to be my good behavior. What demon possessed me that I behaved so well? You may say the wisest thing you can old man - you who have lived seventy years, not without honor of a kind — I hear an irresistible voice which invites me away from all that. One generation abandons the enterprises of another like stranded vessels.

I think that we may safely trust a good deal more than we do. We may waive just so much care of ourselves as we honestly bestow elsewhere. Nature is as well adapted to our weakness as to our strength. The incessant anxiety and strain of some is a well nigh incurable form of disease. We are made to exaggerate the importance of what work we do; and yet how much is not done by us! or, what if we had been taken sick? How vigilant we are! determined not to live by faith if we can avoid it; all the day long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers and commit ourselves to uncertainties. So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant. Confucius said, 'To know that we know what we know, and that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge.' When one man has reduced a fact of the imagination to be a fact to his understanding, I foresee that all men will at length establish their lives on that basis.

Let us consider for a moment what most of the trouble and anxiety which I have referred to is about, and how much it is necessary that we be troubled, or, at least, careful. It would be some advantage to live a primitive and frontier life, though in the midst of an outward civilization, if only to learn what are the gross necessaries of life and what methods have been taken to obtain them; or even to look over the old day-books of the merchants, to see what it was that men most commonly bought at the stores, what they stored, that is, what are the grossest groceries. For the improvements of ages have had but little influence on the essential laws of man's existence; as our skeletons, probably, are not to be distinguished from those of our ancestors.

By the words, necessary of life, I mean whatever, of all that man obtains by his own exertions, has been from the first, or from long use has become, so important to human life that few, if any, whether from savageness, or poverty, or philosophy, ever attempt to do without it. To many creatures there is in this sense but one necessary of life, Food. To the bison of the prairie it is a few inches of palatable grass, with water to drink; unless he seeks the Shelter of the forest or the mountain's shadow. None of the brute creation requires more than Food and Shelter. The necessaries of life for man in this climate may, accurately enough, be distributed under the several heads of Food, Shelter, Clothing, and Fuel; for not till we have secured these are we prepared to entertain the true problems of life with freedom and a prospect of success. Man has invented, not only houses, but clothes and cooked food; and possibly from the accidental discovery of the warmth of fire, and the consequent use of it, at first a luxury, arose the present necessity to sit by it. We observe cats and dogs acquiring the same second nature. By proper Shelter and Clothing we legitimately retain our own internal heat; but with an excess of these, or of Fuel, that is, with an external heat greater than our own internal, may not cookery properly be said to begin? Darwin, the naturalist, says of the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego, that while his own party, who were well clothed and sitting close to a fire, were far from too warm, these naked savages, who were farther off, were observed, to his great surprise, 'to be streaming with perspiration at undergoing such a roasting.' So, we are told, the New Hollander goes naked with impunity, while the European shivers in his clothes. Is it impossible to combine the hardiness of these savages with the intellectualness of the civilized man? According to Liebig, man's body is a stove, and food the fuel which keeps up the internal combustion in the lungs. In cold weather we eat more, in warm less. The animal heat is the result of a slow combustion, and disease and death take place when this is too rapid; or for want of fuel, or from some defect in the draught, the fire goes out. Of course the vital heat is not to be confounded with fire; but so much for analogy. It appears, therefore, from the above list, that the expression, animal life, is nearly synonymous with the expression, animal heat; for while Food may be regarded as the Fuel which keeps up the fire within us — and Fuel serves only to prepare that Food or to increase the warmth of our bodies by addition from without — Shelter and Clothing also serve only to retain the heat thus generated and absorbed.

The grand necessity, then, for our bodies, is to keep warm, to keep the vital heat in us. What pains we accordingly take, not only with our Food, and Clothing, and Shelter, but with our beds, which are our nightclothes, robbing the nests and breasts of birds to prepare this shelter within a shelter, as the mole has its bed of grass and leaves at the end of its burrow! The poor man is wont to complain that this is a cold world; and to cold, no less physical than social, we refer directly a great part of our ails. The summer, in some climates, makes possible to man a sort of Elysian life. Fuel, except to cook his Food, is then unnecessary; the sun is his fire, and many of the fruits are sufficiently cooked by its rays; while Food generally is more various, and more easily obtained, and Clothing and Shelter are wholly or half unnecessary. At the present day, and in this country, as I find by my own experience, a few implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow, &c., and for the studious, lamplight, stationery, and access to a few books, rank next to necessaries, and can all be obtained at a trifling cost. Yet some, not wise, go to the other side of the globe, to barbarous and unhealthy regions, and devote themselves to trade for ten or twenty years, in order that they may live — that is, keep comfortably warm — and die in New England at last. The luxuriously rich are not simply kept comfortably warm, but unnaturally hot; as I implied before, they are cooked, of course à la mode.

Most of the luxuries, and many of the so called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hinderances to the elevation of mankind. With respect to luxuries and comforts, the wisest have ever lived a more simple and meagre life than the poor. The ancient philosophers, Chinese, Hindoo, Persian, and Greek, were a class than which none has been poorer in outward riches, none so rich in inward. We know not much about them. It is remarkable that we know so much of them as we do. The same is true of the more modern reformers and benefactors of their race. None can be an impartial or wise observer of human life but from the vantage ground of what we should call voluntary poverty. Of a life of luxury the fruit is luxury, whether in agriculture, or commerce, or literature, or art. There are nowadays professors of philosophy, but not philosophers. Yet it is admirable to profess because it was once admirable to live. To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live according to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust. It is to solve some of the problems of life, not only theoretically, but practically. The success of great scholars and thinkers is commonly a courtier-like success, not kingly, not manly. They make shift to live merely by conformity, practically as their fathers did, and are in no sense the progenitors of a nobler race of men. But why do men degenerate ever? What makes families run out? What is the nature of the luxury which enervates and destroys nations? Are we sure that there is none of it in our own lives? The philosopher is in advance of his age even in the outward form of his life. He is not fed, sheltered, clothed, warmed, like his contemporaries. How can a man be a philosopher and not maintain his vital heat by better methods than other men?

When a man is warmed by the several modes which I have described, what does he want next? Surely not more warmth of the same kind, as more and richer food, larger and more splendid houses, finer and more abundant clothing, more numerous incessant and hotter fires, and the like. When he has obtained those things which are necessary to life, there is another alternative than to obtain the superfluities; and that is, to adventure on life now, his vacation from humbler toil having commenced. The soil, it appears, is suited to the seed, for it has sent its radicle downward, and it may now send its shoot upward also with confidence. Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he may rise in the same proportion into the heavens above? — for the nobler plants are valued for the fruit they bear at last in the air and light, far from the ground, and are not treated like the humbler esculents, which, though they may be biennials, are cultivated only till they have perfected their root, and often cut down at top for this purpose, so that most would not know them in their flowering season.

I do not mean to prescribe rules to strong and valiant natures, who will mind their own affairs whether in heaven or hell, and perchance build more magnificently and spend more lavishly than the richest, without ever impoverishing themselves, not knowing how they live — if, indeed, there are any such, as has been dreamed; nor to those who find their encouragement and inspiration in precisely the present condition of things, and cherish it with the fondness and enthusiasm of lovers — and, to some extent, I reckon myself in this number; I do not speak to those who are well employed, in whatever circumstances, and they know whether they are well employed or not; — but mainly to the mass of men who are discontented, and idly complaining of the hardness of their lot or of the times, when they might improve them. There are some who complain most energetically and inconsolably of any, because they are, as they say, doing their duty. I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden or silver fetters.

If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend my life in years past, it would probably surprise those of my readers who are somewhat acquainted with its actual history; it would certainly astonish those who know nothing about it. I will only hint at some of the enterprises which I have cherished.

In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line. You will pardon some obscurities, for there are more secrets in my trade than in most men's, and yet not voluntarily kept, but inseparable from its very nature. I would gladly tell all that I know about it, and never paint 'No Admittance' on my gate.

I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. Many are the travellers I have spoken concerning them, describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they had lost them themselves.

To anticipate, not the sunrise and the dawn merely, but, if possible, Nature herself! How many mornings, summer and winter, before yet any neighbor was stirring about his business, have I been about mine! No doubt, many of my townsmen have met me returning from this enterprise, farmers starting for Boston in the twilight, or woodchoppers going to their work. It is true, I never assisted the sun materially in his rising, but, doubt not, it was of the last importance only to be present at it.

So many autumn, ay, and winter days, spent outside the town, trying to hear what was in the wind, to hear and carry it express! I well-nigh sunk all my capital in it, and lost my own breath into the bargain, running in the face of it. If it had concerned either of the political parties, depend upon it, it would have appeared in the Gazette with the earliest intelligence. At other times watching from the observatory of some cliff or tree, to telegraph any new arrival; or waiting at evening on the hill-tops for the sky to fall, that I might catch something, though I never caught much, and that, mannawise, would dissolve again in the sun.

For a long time I was reporter to a journal, of no very wide circulation, whose editor has never yet seen fit to print the bulk of my contributions, and, as is too common with writers, I got only my labor for my pains. However, in this case my pains were their own reward.

For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain storms, and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then of forest paths and all across-lot routes, keeping them open, and ravines bridged and passable at all seasons, where the public heel had testified to their utility.

I have looked after the wild stock of the town, which give a faithful herdsman a good deal of trouble by leaping fences; and I have had an eye to the unfrequented nooks and corners of the farm; though I did not always know whether Jonas or Solomon worked in a particular field to-day; that was none of my business. I have watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the red pine and the black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet, which might have withered else in dry seasons.

In short, I went on thus for a long time, I may say it without boasting, faithfully minding my business, till it became more and more evident that my townsmen would not after all admit me into the list of town officers, nor make my place a sinecure with a moderate allowance. My accounts, which I can swear to have kept faithfully, I have, indeed, never got audited, still less accepted, still less paid and settled. However, I have not set my heart on that.

Not long since, a strolling Indian went to sell baskets at the house of a well-known lawyer in my neighborhood. 'Do you wish to buy any baskets?' he asked. 'No, we do not want any,' was the reply. 'What!' exclaimed the Indian as he went out the gate, 'do you mean to starve us?' Having seen his industrious white neighbors so well off — that the lawyer had only to weave arguments, and by some magic wealth and standing followed, he had said to himself; I will go into business; I will weave baskets; it is a thing which I can do. Thinking that when he had made the baskets he would have done his part, and then it would be the white man's to buy them. He had not discovered that it was necessary for him to make it worth the other's while to buy them, or at least make him think that it was so, or to make something else which it would be worth his while to buy. I too had woven a kind of basket of a delicate texture, but I had not made it worth any one's while to buy them. Yet not the less, in my case, did I think it worth my while to weave them, and instead of studying how to make it worth men's while to buy my baskets, I studied rather how to avoid the necessity of selling them. The life which men praise and regard as successful is but one kind. Why should we exaggerate any one kind at the expense of the others?

Finding that my fellow-citizens were not likely to offer me any room in the court house, or any curacy or living any where else, but I must shift for myself, I turned my face more exclusively than ever to the woods, where I was better known. I determined to go into business at once, and not wait to acquire the usual capital, using such slender means as I had already got. My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not to live cheaply nor to live dearly there, but to transact some private business with the fewest obstacles; to be hindered from accomplishing which for want of a little common sense, a little enterprise and business talent, appeared not so sad as foolish.

I have always endeavored to acquire strict business habits; they are indispensable to every man. If your trade is with the Celestial Empire, then some small counting house on the coast, in some Salem harbor, will be fixture enough. You will export such articles as the country affords, purely native products, much ice and pine timber and a little granite, always in native bottoms. These will be good ventures. To oversee all the details yourself in person; to be at once pilot and captain, and owner and underwriter; to buy and sell and keep the accounts; to read every letter received, and write or read every letter sent; to superintend the discharge of imports night and day; to be upon many parts of the coast almost at the same time; — often the richest freight will be discharged upon a Jersey shore; — to be your own telegraph, unweariedly sweeping the horizon, speaking all passing vessels bound coastwise; to keep up a steady despatch of commodities, for the supply of such a distant and exorbitant market; to keep yourself informed of the state of the markets, prospects of war and peace every where, and anticipate the tendencies of trade and civilization — taking advantage of the results of all exploring expeditions, using new passages and all improvements in navigation; — charts to be studied, the position of reefs and new lights and buoys to be ascertained, and ever, and ever, the logarithmic tables to be corrected, for by the error of some calculator the vessel often splits upon a rock that should have reached a friendly pier — there is the untold fate of La Perouse; — universal science to be kept pace with, studying the lives of all great discoverers and navigators, great adventurers and merchants, from Hanno and the Phoenicians down to our day; in fine, account of stock to be taken from time to time, to know how you stand. It is a labor to task the faculties of a man — such problems of profit and loss, of interest, of tare and tret, and gauging of all kinds in it, as demand a universal knowledge.

I have thought that Walden Pond would be a good place for business, not solely on account of the railroad and the ice trade; it offers advantages which it may not be good policy to divulge; it is a good post and a good foundation. No Neva marshes to be filled; though you must every where build on piles of your own driving. It is said that a flood-tide, with a westerly wind, and ice in the Neva, would sweep St Petersburg from the face of the earth.

As this business was to be entered into without the usual capital, it may not be easy to conjecture where those means, that will still be indispensable to every such undertaking, were to be obtained. As for Clothing, to come at once to the practical part of the question, perhaps we are led oftener by the love of novelty, and a regard for the opinions of men, in procuring it, than by a true utility. Let him who has work to do recollect that the object of clothing is, first, to retain the vital heat, and secondly, in this state of society, to cover nakedness, and he may judge how much of any necessary or important work may be accomplished without adding to his wardrobe. Kings and queens who wear a suit but once, though made by some tailor or dressmaker to their majesties, cannot know the comfort of wearing a suit that fits. They are no better than wooden horses to hang the clean clothes on. Every day our garments become more assimilated to ourselves, receiving the impress of the wearer's character, until we hesitate to lay them aside, without such delay and medical appliances and some such solemnity even as our bodies. No man ever stood the lower in my estimation for having a patch in his clothes; yet I am sure that there is greater anxiety, commonly, to have fashionable, or at least clean and unpatched clothes, than to have a sound conscience. But even if the rent is not mended, perhaps the worst vice betrayed is improvidence. I sometimes try my acquaintance by such tests as this; — who could wear a patch, or two extra seams only, over the knee? Most behave as if they believed that their prospects for life would be ruined if they should do it. It would be easier for them to hobble to town with a broken leg than with a broken pantaloon. Often if an accident happens to a gentleman's legs, they can be mended; but if a similar accident happens to the legs of his pantaloons, there is no help for it; for he considers, not what is truly respectable, but what is respected. We know but few men, a great many coats and breeches. Dress a scarecrow in your last shift, you standing shiftless by, who would not soonest salute the scarecrow? Passing a cornfield the other day, close by a hat and coat on a stake, I recognized the owner of the farm. He was only a little more weather-beaten than when I saw him last. I have heard of a dog that barked at every stranger who approached his master's premises with clothes on, but was easily quieted by a naked thief. It is an interesting question how far men would retain their relative rank if they were divested of their clothes. Could you, in such a case, tell surely of any company of civilized men, which belonged to the most respected class? When Madam Pfeiffer, in her adventurous travels round the world, from east to west, had got so near home as Asiatic Russia, she says that she felt the necessity of wearing other than a travelling dress, when she went to meet the authorities, for she 'was now in a civilized country, where — people are judged of by their clothes'. Even in our democratic New England towns the accidental possession of wealth, and its manifestation in dress and equipage alone, obtain for the possessor almost universal respect. But they who yield such respect, numerous as they are, are so far heathen, and need to have a missionary sent to them. Beside, clothes introduced sewing, a kind of work which you may call endless; a woman's dress, at least, is never done.

A man who has at length found something to do will not need to get a new suit to do it in; for him the old will do, that has lain dusty in the garret for an indeterminate period. Old shoes will serve a hero longer than they have served his valet — if a hero ever has a valet — bare feet are older than shoes, and he can make them do. Only they who go to soirées and legislative halls must have new coats, coats to change as often as the man changes in them. But if my jacket and trousers, my hat and shoes, are fit to worship God in, they will do; will they not? Who ever saw his old clothes — his old coat, actually worn out, resolved into its primitive elements, so that it was not a deed of charity to bestow it on some poor boy, by him perchance to be bestowed on some poorer still, or shall we say richer, who could do with less? I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes. If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit? If you have any enterprise before you try it in your old clothes. All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be. Perhaps we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we have so conducted, so enterprised or sailed in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be like keeping new wine in old bottles. Our moulting season, like that of the fowls, must be a crisis in our lives. The loon retires to solitary ponds to spend it. Thus also the snake casts its slough, and the caterpillar its wormy coat, by an internal industry and expansion; for clothes are but our outmost cuticle and mortal coil. Otherwise we shall be found sailing under false colors, and be inevitably cashiered at last by our own opinion, as well as that of mankind.

We don garment after garment, as if we grew like exogenous plants by addition without. Our outside and often thin and fanciful clothes are our epidermis or false skin, which partakes not of our life, and may be stripped off here and there without fatal injury; our thicker garments, constantly worn, are our cellular integument, or cortex; but our shirts are our liber or true bark, which cannot be removed without girdling and so destroying the man. I believe that all races at some seasons wear something equivalent to the shirt. It is desirable that a man be clad so simply that he can lay his hands on himself in the dark, and that he live in all respects so compactly and preparedly, that, if an enemy take the town, he can, like the old philosopher, walk out the gate empty-handed without anxiety. While one thick garment is, for most purposes, as good as three thin ones, and cheap clothing can be obtained at prices really to suit customers; while a thick coat can be bought for five dollars, which will last as many years, thick pantaloons for two dollars, cowhide boots for a dollar and a half a pair, a summer hat for a quarter of a dollar, and a winter cap for sixty-two and a half cents, or a better be made at home at a nominal cost, where is he so poor that, clad in such a suit, of his own earning, there will not be found wise men to do him reverence?

When I ask for a garment of a particular form, my tailoress tells me gravely, 'They do not make them so now,' not emphasizing the 'They' at all, as if she quoted an authority as impersonal as the Fates, and I find it difficult to get made what I want, simply because she cannot believe that I mean what I say, that I am so rash. When I hear this oracular sentence, I am for a moment absorbed in thought, emphasizing to myself each word separately that I may come at the meaning of it, that I may find out by what degree of consanguinity They are related to me, and what authority they may have in an affair which affects me so nearly; and, finally, I am inclined to answer her with equal mystery, and without any more emphasis of the 'they' — 'It is true, they did not make them so recently, but they do now.' Of what use this measuring of me if she does not measure my character, but only the breadth of my shoulders, as it were a peg to hang the coat on? We worship not the Graces, nor the Parcæ, but Fashion. She spins and weaves and cuts with full authority. The head monkey at Paris puts on a traveller's cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same. I sometimes despair of getting any thing quite simple and honest done in this world by the help of men. They would have to be passed through a powerful press first, to squeeze their old notions out of them, so that they would not soon get upon their legs again, and then there would be some one in the company with a maggot in his head, hatched from an egg deposited there nobody knows when, for not even fire kills these things, and you would have lost your labor. Nevertheless, we will not forget that some Egyptian wheat was handed down to us by a mummy.

On the whole, I think that it cannot be maintained that dressing has in this or any country risen to the dignity of an art. At present men make shift to wear what they can get. Like shipwrecked sailors, they put on what they can find on the beach, and at a little distance, whether of space or time, laugh at each other's masquerade. Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new. We are amused at beholding the costume of Henry Ⅷ, or Queen Elizabeth, as much as if it was that of the King and Queen of the Cannibal Islands. All costume off a man is pitiful or grotesque. It is only the serious eye peering from and the sincere life passed within it, which restrain laughter and consecrate the costume of any people. Let Harlequin be taken with a fit of the colic and his trappings will have to serve that mood too. When the soldier is hit by a cannon ball rags are as becoming as purple.

The childish and savage taste of men and women for new patterns keeps how many shaking and squinting through kaleidoscopes that they may discover the particular figure which this generation requires to-day. The manufacturers have learned that this taste is merely whimsical. Of two patterns which differ only by a few threads more or less of a particular color, the one will be sold readily, the other lie on the shelf, though it frequently happens that after the lapse of a season the latter becomes the most fashionable. Comparatively, tattooing is not the hideous custom which it is called. It is not barbarous merely because the printing is skin-deep and unalterable.

I cannot believe that our factory system is the best mode by which men may get clothing. The condition of the operatives is becoming every day more like that of the English; and it cannot be wondered at, since, as far as I have heard or observed, the principal object is, not that mankind may be well and honestly clad, but, unquestionably, that the corporations may be enriched. In the long run men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at something high.

As for a Shelter, I will not deny that this is now a necessary of life, though there are instances of men having done without it for long periods in colder countries than this. Samuel Laing says that 'The Laplander in his skin dress, and in a skin bag which he puts over his head and shoulders, will sleep night after night on the snow — in a degree of cold which would extinguish the life of one exposed to it in any woollen clothing.' He had seen them asleep thus. Yet he adds, 'They are not hardier than other people.' But, probably, man did not live long on the earth without discovering the convenience which there is in a house, the domestic comforts, which phrase may have originally signified the satisfactions of the house more than of the family; though these must be extremely partial and occasional in those climates where the house is associated in our thoughts with winter or the rainy season chiefly, and two thirds of the year, except for a parasol, is unnecessary. In our climate, in the summer, it was formerly almost solely a covering at night. In the Indian gazettes a wigwam was the symbol of a day's march, and a row of them cut or painted on the bark of a tree signified that so many times they had camped. Man was not made so large limbed and robust but that he must seek to narrow his world, and wall in a space such as fitted him. He was at first bare and out of doors; but though this was pleasant enough in serene and warm weather, by daylight, the rainy season and the winter, to say nothing of the torrid sun, would perhaps have nipped his race in the bud if he had not made haste to clothe himself with the shelter of a house. Adam and Eve, according to the fable, wore the bower before other clothes. Man wanted a home, a place of warmth, or comfort, first of physical warmth, then the warmth of the affections.

We may imagine a time when, in the infancy of the human race, some enterprising mortal crept into a hollow in a rock for shelter. Every child begins the world again, to some extent, and loves to stay out doors, even in wet and cold. It plays house, as well as horse, having an instinct for it. Who does not remember the interest with which when young he looked at shelving rocks, or any approach to a cave? It was the natural yearning of that portion of our most primitive ancestor which still survived in us. From the cave we have advanced to roofs of palm leaves, of bark and boughs, of linen woven and stretched, of grass and straw, of boards and shingles, of stones and tiles. At last, we know not what it is to live in the open air, and our lives are domestic in more senses than we think. From the hearth to the field is a great distance. It would be well perhaps if we were to spend more of our days and nights without any obstruction between us and the celestial bodies, if the poet did not speak so much from under a roof, or the saint dwell there so long. Birds do not sing in caves, nor do doves cherish their innocence in dovecots.

However, if one designs to construct a dwelling house, it behooves him to exercise a little Yankee shrewdness, lest after all he find himself in a workhouse, a labyrinth without a clew, a museum, an almshouse, a prison, or a splendid mausoleum instead. Consider first how slight a shelter is absolutely necessary. I have seen Penobscot Indians, in this town, living in tents of thin cotton cloth, while the snow was nearly a foot deep around them, and I thought that they would be glad to have it deeper to keep out the wind. Formerly, when how to get my living honestly, with freedom left for my proper pursuits, was a question which vexed me even more than it does now, for unfortunately I am become somewhat callous, I used to see a large box by the railroad, six feet long by three wide, in which the laborers locked up their tools at night, and it suggested to me that every man who was hard pushed might get such a one for a dollar, and, having bored a few auger holes in it, to admit the air at least, get into it when it rained and at night, and hook down the lid, and so have freedom in his love, and in his soul be free. This did not appear the worst, nor by any means a despicable alternative. You could sit up as late as you pleased, and, whenever you got up, go abroad without any landlord or house-lord dogging you for rent. Many a man is harassed to death to pay the rent of a larger and more luxurious box who would not have frozen to death in such a box as this. I am far from jesting. Economy is a subject which admits of being treated with levity, but it cannot so be disposed of. A comfortable house for a rude and hardy race, that lived mostly out of doors, was once made here almost entirely of such materials as Nature furnished ready to their hands. Gookin, who was superintendent of the Indians subject to the Massachusetts Colony, writing in 1674, says, 'The best of their houses are covered very neatly, tight and warm, with barks of trees, slipped from their bodies at those seasons when the sap is up, and made into great flakes, with pressure of weighty timber, when they are green ... The meaner sort are covered with mats which they make of a kind of bulrush, and are also indifferently tight and warm, but not so good as the former ... Some I have seen, sixty or a hundred feet long and thirty feet broad ... I have often lodged in their wigwams, and found them as warm as the best English houses.' He adds, that they were commonly carpeted and lined within with well-wrought embroidered mats, and were furnished with various utensils. The Indians had advanced so far as to regulate the effect of the wind by a mat suspended over the hole in the roof and moved by a string. Such a lodge was in the first instance constructed in a day or two at most, and taken down and put up in a few hours; and every family owned one, or its apartment in one.

In the savage state every family owns a shelter as good as the best, and sufficient for its coarser and simpler wants; but I think that I speak within bounds when I say that, though the birds of the air have their nests, and the foxes their holes, and the savages their wigwams, in modern civilized society not more than one half the families own a shelter. In the large towns and cities, where civilization especially prevails, the number of those who own a shelter is a very small fraction of the whole. The rest pay an annual tax for this outside garment of all, become indispensable summer and winter, which would buy a village of Indian wigwams, but now helps to keep them poor as long as they live. I do not mean to insist here on the disadvantage of hiring compared with owning, but it is evident that the savage owns his shelter because it costs so little, while the civilized man hires his commonly because he cannot afford to own it; nor can he, in the long run, any better afford to hire. But, answers one, by merely paying this tax the poor civilized man secures an abode which is a palace compared with the savage's. An annual rent of from twenty-five to a hundred dollars, these are the country rates, entitles him to the benefit of the improvements of centuries, spacious apartments, clean paint and paper, Rumford fireplace, back plastering, Venetian blinds, copper pump, spring lock, a commodious cellar, and many other things. But how happens it that he who is said to enjoy these things is so commonly a poor civilized man, while the savage, who has them not, is rich as a savage? If it is asserted that civilization is a real advance in the condition of man — and I think that it is, though only the wise improve their advantages — it must be shown that it has produced better dwellings without making them more costly; and the cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run. An average house in this neighborhood costs perhaps eight hundred dollars, and to lay up this sum will take from ten to fifteen years of the laborer's life, even if he is not encumbered with a family; — estimating the pecuniary value of every man's labor at one dollar a day, for if some receive more, others receive less; — so that he must have spent more than half his life commonly before his wigwam will be earned. If we suppose him to pay a rent instead, this is but a doubtful choice of evils. Would the savage have been wise to exchange his wigwam for a palace on these terms?

It may be guessed that I reduce almost the whole advantage of holding this superfluous property as a fund in store against the future, so far as the individual is concerned, mainly to the defraying of funeral expenses. But perhaps a man is not required to bury himself. Nevertheless this points to an important distinction between the civilized man and the savage; and, no doubt, they have designs on us for our benefit, in making the life of a civilized people an institution, in which the life of the individual is to a great extent absorbed, in order to preserve and perfect that of the race. But I wish to show at what a sacrifice this advantage is at present obtained, and to suggest that we may possibly so live as to secure all the advantage without suffering any of the disadvantage. What mean ye by saying that the poor ye have always with you, or that the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge?

'As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion any more to use this proverb in Israel.'

'Behold all souls are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine: the soul that sinneth it shall die.'

When I consider my neighbors, the farmers of Concord, who are at least as well off as the other classes, I find that for the most part they have been toiling twenty, thirty, or forty years, that they may become the real owners of their farms, which commonly they have inherited with encumbrances, or else bought with hired money — and we may regard one third of that toil as the cost of their houses — but commonly they have not paid for them yet. It is true, the encumbrances sometimes outweigh the value of the farm, so that the farm itself becomes one great encumbrance, and still a man is found to inherit it, being well acquainted with it, as he says. On applying to the assessors, I am surprised to learn that they cannot at once name a dozen in the town who own their farms free and clear. If you would know the history of these homesteads, inquire at the bank where they are mortgaged. The man who has actually paid for his farm with labor on it is so rare that every neighbor can point to him. I doubt if there are three such men in Concord. What has been said of the merchants, that a very large majority, even ninety-seven in a hundred, are sure to fail, is equally true of the farmers. With regard to the merchants, however, one of them says pertinently that a great part of their failures are not genuine pecuniary failures, but merely failures to fulfil their engagements, because it is inconvenient; that is, it is the moral character that breaks down. But this puts an infinitely worse face on the matter, and suggests, beside, that probably not even the other three succeed in saving their souls, but are perchance bankrupt in a worse sense than they who fail honestly. Bankruptcy and repudiation are the springboards from which much of our civilization vaults and turns its somersets, but the savage stands on the unelastic plank of famine. Yet the Middlesex Cattle Show goes off here with éclat annually, as if all the joints of the agricultural machine were suent.

The farmer is endeavoring to solve the problem of a livelihood by a formula more complicated than the problem itself. To get his shoestrings he speculates in herds of cattle. With consummate skill he has set his trap with a hair springe to catch comfort and independence, and then, as he turned away, got his own leg into it. This is the reason he is poor; and for a similar reason we are all poor in respect to a thousand savage comforts, though surrounded by luxuries. As Chapman sings —

The false society of men —

— for earthly greatness

All heavenly comforts rarefies to air.

And when the farmer has got his house, he may not be the richer but the poorer for it, and it be the house that has got him. As I understand it, that was a valid objection urged by Momus against the house which Minerva made, that she 'had not made it movable, by which means a bad neighborhood might be avoided'; and it may still be urged, for our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often imprisoned rather than housed in them; and the bad neighborhood to be avoided is our own scurvy selves. I know one or two families, at least, in this town, who, for nearly a generation, have been wishing to sell their houses in the outskirts and move into the village, but have not been able to accomplish it, and only death will set them free.

Granted that the majority are able to last either to own or hire the modern house with all its improvements. While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit them. It has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create noblemen and kings. And if the civilized man's pursuits are no worthier than the savage's, if he is employed the greater part of his life in obtaining gross necessaries and comforts merely, why should he have a better dwelling than the former?

But how do the poor minority fare? Perhaps it will be found, that just in proportion as some have been placed in outward circumstances above the savage, others have been degraded below him. The luxury of one class is counterbalanced by the indigence of another. On the one side is the palace, on the other are the almshouse and 'silent poor'. The myriads who built the pyramids to be the tombs of the Pharaohs were fed on garlic, and it may be were not decently buried themselves. The mason who finishes the cornice of the palace returns at night perchance to a hut not so good as a wigwam. It is a mistake to suppose that, in a country where the usual evidences of civilization exist, the condition of a very large body of the inhabitants may not be as degraded as that of savages. I refer to the degraded poor, not now to the degraded rich. To know this I should not need to look farther than to the shanties which every where border our railroads, that last improvement in civilization; where I see in my daily walks human beings living in sties, and all winter with an open door, for the sake of light, without any visible, often imaginable, wood-pile, and the forms of both old and young are permanently contracted by the long habit of shrinking from cold and misery, and the development of all their limbs and faculties is checked. It certainly is fair to look at that class by whose labor the works which distinguish this generation are accomplished. Such too, to a greater or less extent, is the condition of the operatives of every denomination in England, which is the great workhouse of the world. Or I could refer you to Ireland, which is marked as one of the white or enlightened spots on the map. Contrast the physical condition of the Irish with that of the North American Indian, or the South Sea Islander, or any other savage race before it was degraded by contact with the civilized man. Yet I have no doubt that people's rulers are as wise as the average of civilized rulers. Their condition only proves what squalidness may consist with civilization. I hardly need refer now to the laborers in our Southern States who produce the staple exports of this country, and are themselves a staple production of the South. But to confine myself to those who are said to be in moderate circumstances.

Most men appear never to have considered what a house is, and are actually though needlessly poor all their lives because they think that they must have such a one as their neighbors have. As if one were to wear any sort of coat which the tailor might cut out for him, or, gradually leaving off palmleaf hat or cap of woodchuck skin, complain of hard times because he could not afford to buy him a crown! It is possible to invent a house still more convenient and luxurious than we have, which yet all would admit that man could not afford to pay for. Shall we always study to obtain more of these things, and not sometimes to be content with less? Shall the respectable citizen thus gravely teach, by precept and example, the necessity of the young man's providing a certain number of superfluous glowshoes, and umbrellas, and empty guest chambers for empty guests, before he dies? Why should not our furniture be as simple as the Arab's or the Indian's? When I think of the benefactors of the race, whom we have apotheosized as messengers from heaven, bearers of divine gifts to man, I do not see in my mind any retinue at their heels, any car-load of fashionable furniture. Or what if I were to allow — would it not be a singular allowance? — that our furniture should be more complex than the Arab's, in proportion as we are morally and intellectually his superiors! At present our houses are cluttered and defiled with it, and a good housewife would sweep out the greater part into the dust hole, and not leave her morning's work undone. Morning work! By the blushes of Aurora and the music of Memnon, what should be man's morning work in this world? I had three pieces of limestone on my desk, but I was terrified to find that they required to be dusted daily, when the furniture of my mind was all undusted still, and I threw them out the window in disgust. How, then, could I have a furnished house? I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man has broken ground.

It is the luxurious and dissipated who set the fashions which the herd so diligently follow. The traveller who stops at the best houses, so called, soon discovers this, for the publicans presume him to be a Sardanapalus, and if he resigned himself to their tender mercies he would soon be completely emasculated. I think that in the railroad car we are inclined to spend more on luxury than on safety and convenience, and it threatens without attaining these to become no better than a modern drawing room, with its divans, and ottomans, and sunshades, and a hundred other oriental things, which we are taking west with us, invented for the ladies of the harem and the effeminate natives of the Celestial Empire, which Jonathan should be ashamed to know the names of. I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion. I would rather ride on earth in an ox cart with a free circulation, than go to heaven in the fancy car of an excursion train and breathe a malaria all the way.

The very simplicity and nakedness of man's life in the primitive ages imply this advantage at least, that they left him still but a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep he contemplated his journey again. He dwelt, as it were, in a tent in this world, and was either threading the valleys, or crossing the plains, or climbing the mountain tops. But lo! men have become the tools of their tools. The man who independently plucked the fruits when he was hungry is become a farmer; and he who stood under a tree for shelter, a housekeeper. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on earth and forgotten heaven. We have adopted Christianity merely as an improved method of agriculture. We have built for this world a family mansion, and for the next a family tomb. The best works of art are the expression of man's struggle to free himself from this condition, but the effect of our art is merely to make this low state comfortable and that higher state to be forgotten. There is actually no place in this village for a work of fine art, if any had come down to us, to stand, for our lives, our houses and streets, furnish no proper pedestal for it. There is not a nail to hang a picture on, nor a shelf to receive the bust of a hero or a saint. When I consider how our houses are built and paid for, or not paid for, and their internal economy managed and sustained, I wonder that the floor does not give way under the visitor while he is admiring the gewgaws upon the mantelpiece, and let him through into the cellar, to some solid and honest though earthy foundation. I cannot but perceive that this so called rich and refined life is a thing jumped at, and I do not get on in the enjoyment of the fine arts which adorn it, my attention being wholly occupied with the jump; for I remember that the greatest genuine leap, due to human muscles alone, on record, is that of certain wandering Arabs, who are said to have cleared twenty-five feet on level ground. Without factitious support, man is sure to come to earth again beyond that distance. The first question which I am tempted to put to the proprietor of such great impropriety is, Who bolsters you? Are you one of the ninety-seven who fail, or the three who succeed? Answer me these questions, and then perhaps I may look at your bawbles and find them ornamental. The cart before the horse is neither beautiful nor useful. Before we can adorn our houses with beautiful objects the walls must be stripped, and our lives must be stripped, and beautiful housekeeping and beautiful living be laid for a foundation: now, a taste for the beautiful is most cultivated out of doors, where there is no house and no housekeeper.

Old Johnson, in his 'Wonder-Working Providence', speaking of the first settlers of this town, with whom he was contemporary, tells us that 'they burrow themselves in the earth for their first shelter under some hillside, and, casting the soil aloft upon timber, they make a smoky fire against the earth, at the highest side.' They did not 'provide them houses', says he, 'till the earth, by the Lord's blessing, brought forth bread to feed them', and the first year's crop was so light that 'they were forced to cut their bread very thin for a long season.' The secretary of the Province of New Netherland, writing in Dutch, in 1650, for the information of those who wished to take up land there, states more particularly, that 'those in New Netherland, and especially in New England, who have no means to build farm houses at first according to their wishes, dig a square pit in the ground, cellar fashion, six or seven feet deep, as long and as broad as they think proper, case the earth inside with wood all round the wall, and line the wood with the bark of trees or something else to prevent the caving in of the earth; floor this cellar with plank, and wainscot it overhead for a ceiling, raise a roof of spars clear up, and cover the spars with bark or green sods, so that they can live dry and warm in these houses with their entire families for two, three, and four years, it being understood that partitions are run through those cellars which are adapted to the size of the family. The wealthy and principal men in New England, in the beginning of the colonies, commenced their first dwelling houses in this fashion for two reasons; firstly, in order not to waste time in building, and not to want food the next season; secondly, in order not to discourage poor laboring people whom they brought over in numbers from Fatherland. In the course of three or four years, when the country became adapted to agriculture, they built themselves handsome houses, spending on them several thousands.'

In this course which our ancestors took there was a show of prudence at least, as if their principle were to satisfy the more pressing wants first. But are the more pressing wants satisfied now? When I think of acquiring for myself one of our luxurious dwellings, I am deterred, for, so to speak, the country is not yet adapted to human culture, and we are still forced to cut our spiritual bread far thinner than our forefathers did their wheaten. Not that all architectural ornament is to be neglected even in the rudest periods; but let our houses first be lined with beauty, where they come in contact with our lives, like the tenement of the shellfish, and not overlaid with it. But, alas! I have been inside one or two of them, and know what they are lined with.

Though we are not so degenerate but that we might possibly live in a cave or a wigwam or wear skins to-day, it certainly is better to accept the advantages, though so dearly bought, which the invention and industry of mankind offer. In such a neighborhood as this, boards and shingles, lime and bricks, are cheaper and more easily obtained than suitable caves, or whole logs, or bark in sufficient quantities, or even well-tempered clay or flat stones. I speak understandingly on this subject, for I have made myself acquainted with it both theoretically and practically. With a little more wit we might use these materials so as to become richer than the richest now are, and make our civilization a blessing. The civilized man is a more experienced and wiser savage. But to make haste to my own experiment.

Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, and began to cut down some tall arrowy white pines, still in their youth, for timber. It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but perhaps it is the most generous course thus to permit your fellow-men to have an interest in your enterprise. The owner of the axe, as he released his hold on it, said that it was the apple of his eye; but I returned it sharper than I received it. It was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered with pine woods, through which I looked out on the pond, and a small open field in the woods where pines and hickories were springing up. The ice in the pond was not yet dissolved, though there were some open spaces, and it was all dark colored and saturated with water. There were some slight flurries of snow during the days that I worked there; but for the most part when I came out on to the railroad, on my way home, its yellow sand heap stretched away gleaming in the hazy atmosphere, and the rails shone in the spring sun, and I heard the lark and pewee and other birds already come to commence another year with us. They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself. One day, when my axe had come off and I had cut a green hickory for a wedge, driving it with a stone, and had placed the whole to soak in a pond hole in order to swell the wood, I saw a striped snake run into the water, and he lay on the bottom, apparently without inconvenience, as long as I staid there, or more than a quarter of an hour; perhaps because he had not yet fairly come out of the torpid state. It appeared to me that for a like reason men remain in their present low and primitive condition; but if they should feel the influence of the spring of springs arousing them, they would of necessity rise to a higher and more ethereal life. I had previously seen the snakes in frosty mornings in my path with portions of their bodies still numb and inflexible, waiting for the sun to thaw them. On the 1st of April it rained and melted the ice, and in the early part of the day, which was very foggy, I heard a stray goose groping about over the pond and cackling as if lost, or like the spirit of the fog.

So I went on for some days cutting and hewing timber, and also studs and rafters, all with my narrow axe, not having many communicable or scholar-like thoughts, singing to myself -

Men say they know many things;

But lo! they have taken wings -

The arts and sciences,

And a thousand appliances;

The wind that blows

Is all that any body knows.

I hewed the main timbers six inches square, most of the studs on two sides only, and the rafters and floor timbers on one side, leaving the rest of the bark on, so that they were just as straight and much stronger than sawed ones. Each stick was carefully mortised or tenoned by its stump, for I had borrowed other tools by this time. My days in the woods were not very long ones; yet I usually carried my dinner of bread and butter, and read the newspaper in which it was wrapped, at noon, sitting amid the green pine boughs which I had cut off, and to my bread was imparted some of their fragance, for my hands were covered with a thick coat of pitch. Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree, though I had cut down some of them, having become better acquainted with it. Sometimes a rambler in the wood was attracted by the sound of my axe, and we chatted pleasantly over the chips which I had made.

By the middle of April, for I made no haste in my work, but rather made the most of it, my house was framed and ready for the raising. I had already bought the shanty of James Collins, an Irishman who worked on the Fitchburg Railroad, for boards. James Collins' shanty was considered an uncommonly fine one. When I called to see it he was not at home. I walked about the outside, at first unobserved from within, the window was so deep and high. It was of small dimensions, with a peaked cottage roof, and not much else to be seen, the dirt being raised five feet all around as if it were a compost heap. The roof was the soundest part, though a good deal warped and made brittle by the sun. Door-sill there was none, but a perennial passage for the hens under the door board. Mrs C. came to the door and asked me to view it from the inside. The hens were driven in by my approach. It was dark, and had a dirt floor for the most part, dank, clammy, and aguish, only here a board and there a board which would not bear removal. She lighted a lamp to show me the inside of the roof and the walls, and also that the board floor extended under the bed, warning me not to step into the cellar, a sort of dust hole two feet deep. In her own words, they were 'good boards overhead, good boards all around, and a good window' — of two whole squares originally, only the cat had passed out that way lately. There was a stove, a bed, and a place to sit, an infant in the house where it was born, a silk parasol, gilt-framed looking-glass, and a patent new coffee-mill nailed to an oak sapling, all told. The bargain was soon concluded, for James had in the mean while returned. I to pay four dollars and twenty-five cents to-night, he to vacate at five the sun having never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. It was but two hours' work. I took particular pleasure in this breaking of ground, for in almost all latitudes men dig into the earth for an equable temperature. Under the most splendid house in the city is still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, and long after the superstructure has disappeared posterity remark its dent in the earth. The house is still but a sort of porch at the entrance of a burrow.

At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of my acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for neighborliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my house. No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers than I. They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of loftier structures one day. I began to occupy my house on the 4th of July, as soon as it was boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain; but before boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney at one end, bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from the pond in my arms. I built the chimney after my hoeing in the fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing my cooking in the mean while out of doors on the ground, early in the morning: which mode I still think is in some respects more convenient and agreeable than the usual one. When it stormed before my bread was baked, I fixed a few boards over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and passed some pleasant hours in that way. In those days, when my hands were much employed, I read but little, but the least scraps of paper which lay on the ground, my holder, or table-cloth, afforded me as much entertainment, in fact answered the same purpose as the Iliad.

It would be worth the while to build still more deliberately than I did, considering, for instance, what foundation a door, a window, a cellar, a garret, have in the nature of man, and perchance never raising any superstructure until we found a better reason for it than our temporal necessities even. There is some of the same fitness in a man's building his own house that there is in a bird's building its own nest. Who knows but if men constructed their dwellings with their own hands, and provided food for themselves and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty would be universally developed, as birds universally sing when they are so engaged? But alas! we do like cowbirds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nests which other birds have built, and cheer no traveller with their chattering and unmusical notes. Shall we forever resign the pleasure of construction to the carpenter? What does architecture amount to in the experience of the mass of men? I never in all my walks came across a man engaged in so simple and natural an occupation as building his house. We belong to the community. It is not the tailor alone who is the ninth part of a man; it is as much the preacher, and the merchant, and the farmer. Where is this division of labor to end? and what object does it finally serve? No doubt another may also think for me; but it is not therefore desirable that he should do so to the exclusion of my thinking for myself.

True, there are architects so called in this country, and I have heard of one at least possessed with the idea of making architectural ornaments have a core of truth, a necessity, and hence a beauty, as if it were a revelation to him. All very well perhaps from his point of view, but only a little better than the common dilettantism. A sentimental reformer in architecture, he began at the cornice, not at the foundation. It was only how to put a core of truth within the ornaments, that every sugar plum in fact might have an almond or caraway seed in it — though I hold that almonds are most wholesome without the sugar — and not how the inhabitant, the indweller, might build truly within and without, and let the ornaments take care of themselves. What reasonable man ever supposed that ornaments were something outward and in the skin merely — that the tortoise got his spotted shell, or the shellfish its mother-o'-pearl tints, by such a contract as the inhabitants of Broadway their Trinity Church? But a man has no more to do with the style of architecture of his house than a tortoise with that of its shell: nor need the soldier be so idle as to try to paint the precise color of his virtue on his standard. The enemy will find it out. He may turn pale when the trial comes. This man seemed to me to lean over the cornice, and timidly whisper his half truth to the rude occupants who really knew it better than he. What of architectural beauty I now see, I know has gradually grown from within outward, out of the necessities and character of the indweller, who is the only builder — out of some unconscious truthfulness, and nobleness, without ever a thought for the appearance; and whatever additional beauty of this kind is destined to be produced will be preceded by a like unconscious beauty of life. The most interesting dwellings in this country, as the painter knows, are the most unpretending, humble log huts and cottages of the poor commonly; it is the life of the inhabitants whose shells they are, and not any peculiarity in their surfaces merely, which makes them picturesque; and equally interesting will be the citizen's suburban box, when his life shall be as simple and as agreeable to the imagination, and there is as little straining after effect in the style of his dwelling. A great proportion of architectural ornaments are literally hollow, and a September gale would strip them off, like borrowed plumes, without injury to the substantials. They can do without architecture who have no olives nor wines in the cellar. What if an equal ado were made about the ornaments of style in literature, and the architects of our bibles spent as much time about their cornices as the architects of our churches do? So are made the belles-lettres and the beaux-arts and their professors. Much it concerns a man, forsooth, how a few sticks are slanted over him or under him, and what colors are daubed upon his box. It would signify somewhat, if, in any earnest sense, he slanted them and daubed it; but the spirit having departed out of the tenant, it is of a piece with constructing his own coffin — the architecture of the grave, and 'carpenter', is but another name for 'coffin-maker'. One man says, in his despair or indifference to life, take up a handful of the earth at your feet, and paint your house that color. Is he thinking of his last and narrow house? Toss up a copper for it as well. What an abundance of leisure he must have! Why do you take up a handful of dirt? Better paint your house your own complexion; let it turn pale or blush for you. An enterprise to improve the style of cottage architecture! When you have got my ornaments ready I will wear them.

Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of my house, which were already impervious to rain, with imperfect and sappy shingles made of the first slice of the log, whose edges I was obliged to straighten with a plane.

I have thus a tight shingled and plastered house, ten feet wide by fifteen long, and eight-feet posts, with a garret and a closet, a large window on each side, two trap doors, one door at the end, and a brick fireplace opposite. The exact cost of my house, paying the usual price for such materials as I used, but not counting the work, all of which was done by myself, was as follows; and I give the details because very few are able to tell exactly what their houses cost, and fewer still, if any, the separate cost of the various materials which compose them:—

These are all the materials excepting the timber, stones and sand, which I claimed by squatter's rights. I have also a small wood-shed adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff which was left after building the house.

I intend to build me a house which will surpass any on the main street in Concord in grandeur and luxury, as soon as it pleases me as much and will cost me no more than my present one.

I thus found that the student who wishes for a shelter can obtain one for a lifetime at an expense not greater than the rent which he now pays annually. If I seem to boast more than is becoming, my excuse is that I brag for humanity rather than for myself; and my shortcomings and inconsistencies do not affect the truth of my statement. Notwithstanding much cant and hypocrisy — chaff which I find it difficult to separate from my wheat, but for which I am as sorry as any man — I will breathe freely and stretch myself in this respect, it is such a relief to both the moral and physical system; and I am resolved that I will not through humility become the devil's attorney. I will endeavor to speak a good word for the truth. At Cambridge College the mere rent of a student's room, which is only a little larger than my own, is thirty dollars each year, though the corporation had the advantage of building thirty-two side by side and under one roof, and the occupant suffers the inconvenience of many and noisy neighbors, and perhaps a residence in the fourth story. I cannot but think that if we had more true wisdom in these respects, not only less education would be needed, because, forsooth, more would already have been acquired, but the pecuniary expense of getting an education would in a great measure vanish. Those conveniences which the student requires at Cambridge or elsewhere cost him or somebody else ten times as great a sacrifice of life as they would with proper management on both sides. Those things for which the most money is demanded are never the things which the student most wants. Tuition, for instance, is an important item in the term bill, while for the far more valuable education which he gets by associating with the most cultivated of his contemporaries no charge is made. The mode of founding a college is, commonly, to get up a subscription of dollars and cents, and then following blindly the principles of a division of labor to its extreme, a principle which should never be followed but with circumspection — to call in a contractor who makes this a subject of speculation, and he employs Irishmen or other operatives actually to lay the foundations, while the students that are to be are said to be fitting themselves for it; and for these oversights successive generations have to pay. I think that it would be better than this, for the students, or those who desire to be benefited by it, even to lay the foundation themselves. The student who secures his coveted leisure and retirement by systematically shirking any labor necessary to man obtains but an ignoble and unprofitable leisure, defrauding himself of the experience which alone can make leisure fruitful. 'But,' says one, 'you do not mean that the students should go to work with their hands instead of their heads?' I do not mean that exactly, but I mean something which he might think a good deal like that; I mean that they should not play life, or study it merely, while the community supports them at this expensive game, but earnestly live it from beginning to end. How could youths better learn to live than by at once trying the experiment of living? Methinks this would exercise their minds as much as mathematics. If I wished a boy to know something about the arts and sciences, for instance, I would not pursue the common course, which is merely to send him into the neighborhood of some professor, where any thing is professed and practised but the art of life; — to survey the world through a telescope or a microscope, and never with his natural eye; to study chemistry, and not learn how his bread is made, or mechanics, and not learn how it is earned; to discover new satellites to Neptune, and not detect the motes in his eyes, or to what vagabond he is a satellite himself; or to be devoured by the monsters that swarm all around him, while contemplating the monsters in a drop of vinegar. Which would have advanced the most at the end of a month — the boy who had made his own jackknife from the ore which he had dug and smelted, reading as much as would be necessary for this — or the boy who had attended the lectures on metallurgy at the Institute in the mean while, and had received a Rogers' penknife from his father? Which would be most likely to cut his fingers? ... To my astonishment I was informed on leaving college that I had studied navigation! — why, if I had taken one turn down the harbor I should have known more about it. Even the poor student studies and is taught only political economy, while that economy of living which is synonymous with philosophy is not even sincerely professed in our colleges. The consequence is, that while he is reading Adam Smith, Ricardo, and Say, he runs his father in debt irretrievably.

As with our colleges, so with a hundred 'modern improvements'; there is an illusion about them; there is not always a positive advance. The devil goes on exacting compound interest to the last for his early share and numerous succeeding investments in them. Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end, an end which it was already but too easy to arrive at; as railroads lead to Boston or New York. We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate. Either is in such a predicament as the man who was earnest to be introduced to a distinguished deaf woman, but when he was presented, and one end of her ear trumpet was put into his hand, had nothing to say. As if the main object were to talk fast and not to talk sensibly. We are eager to tunnel under the Atlantic and bring the old world some weeks nearer to the new; but perchance the first news that will leak through into the broad, flapping American ear will be that the Princess Adelaide has the whooping cough. After all, the man whose horse trots a mile in a minute does not carry the most important messages; he is not an evangelist, nor does he come round eating locusts and wild honey. I doubt if Flying Childers ever carried a peck of corn to mill.

One says to me, 'I wonder that you do not lay up money; you love to travel; you might take the cars and go to Fitchburg to-day and see the country.' But I am wiser than that. I have learned that the swiftest traveller is he that goes afoot. I say to my friend, Suppose we try who will get there first. The distance is thirty miles; the fare ninety cents. That is almost a day's wages. I remember when wages were sixty cents a day for laborers on this very road. Well, I start now on foot, and get there before night; I have travelled at that rate by the week together. You will in the mean while have earned your fare, and arrive there some time to-morrow, or possibly this evening, if you are lucky enough to get a job in season. Instead of going to Fitchburg, you will be working here the greater part of the day. And so, if the railroad reached round the world, I think that I should keep ahead of you; and as for seeing the country and getting experience of that kind, I should have to cut your acquaintance altogether.

Such is the universal law, which no man can ever outwit, and with regard to the railroad even we may say it is as broad as it is long. To make a railroad round the world available to all mankind is equivalent to grading the whole surface of the planet. Men have an indistinct notion that if they keep up this activity of joint stocks and spades long enough all will at length ride somewhere, in next to no time, and for nothing; but though a crowd rushes to the depot, and the conductor shouts 'All aboard!' when the smoke is blown away and the vapor condensed, it will be perceived that a few are riding, but the rest are run over — and it will be called, and will be, 'A melancholy accident'. No doubt they can ride at last who shall have earned their fare, that is, if they survive so long, but they will probably have lost their elasticity and desire to travel by that time. This spending of the best part of one's life earning money in order to enjoy a questionable liberty during the least valuable part of it, reminds me of the Englishman who went to India to make a fortune first, in order that he might return to England and live the life of a poet. He should have gone up garret at once. 'What!' exclaim a million Irishmen starting up from all the shanties in the land, 'is not this railroad which we have built a good thing?' Yes, I answer, comparatively good, that is, you might have done worse; but I wish, as you are brothers of mine, that you could have spent your time better than digging in this dirt [...]

Where I Lived, and What I Lived For

At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house. I have thus surveyed the country on every side within a dozen miles of where I live. In imagination I have bought all the farms in succession, for all were to be bought, and I knew their price. I walked over each farmer's premises, tasted his wild apples, discoursed on husbandry with him, took his farm at his price, at any price, mortgaging it to him in my mind; even put a higher price on it — took every thing but a deed of it — took his word for his deed, for I dearly love to talk — cultivated it, and him too to some extent, I trust, and withdrew when I had enjoyed it long enough, leaving him to carry it on. This experience entitled me to be regarded as a sort of real-estate broker by my friends. Wherever I sat, there I might live, and the landscape radiated from me accordingly. What is a house but a sedes, a seat? — better if a country seat. I discovered many a site for a house not likely to be soon improved, which some might have thought too far from the village, but to my eyes the village was too far from it. Well, there I might live, I said; and there I did live, for an hour, a summer and a winter life; saw how I could let the years run off, buffet the winter through, and see the spring come in. The future inhabitants of this region, wherever they may place their houses, may be sure that they have been anticipated. An afternoon sufficed to lay out the land into orchard, wood-lot, and pasture, and to decide what fine oaks or pines should be left to stand before the door, and whence each blasted tree could be seen to the best advantage; and then I let it lie, fallow perchance, for a man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.

My imagination carried me so far that I even had the refusal of several farms — the refusal was all I wanted — but I never got my fingers burned by actual possession. The nearest that I came to actual possession was when I bought the Hollowell place, and had begun to sort my seeds, and collected materials with which to make a wheelbarrow to carry it on or off with; but before the owner gave me a deed of it, his wife — every man has such a wife — changed her mind and wished to keep it, and he offered me ten dollars to release him. Now, to speak the truth, I had but ten cents in the world, and it surpassed my arithmetic to tell, if I was that man who had ten cents, or who had a farm, or ten dollars, or all together. However, I let him keep the ten dollars and the farm too, for I had carried it far enough; or rather, to be generous, I sold him the farm for just what I gave for it, and, as he was not a rich man, made him a present of ten dollars, and still had my ten cents, and seeds, and materials for a wheelbarrow left. I found thus that I had been a rich man without any damage to my poverty. But I retained the landscape, and I have since annually carried off what it yielded without a wheelbarrow. With respect to landscapes —

I am monarch of all I survey,

My right there is none to dispute.

I have frequently seen a poet withdraw, having enjoyed the most valuable part of a farm, while the crusty farmer supposed that he had got a few wild apples only. Why, the owner does not know it for many years when a poet has put his farm in rhyme, the most admirable kind of invisible fence, has fairly impounded it, milked it, skimmed it, and got all the cream, and left the farmer only the skimmed milk.

The real attractions of the Hollowell farm, to me, were; its complete retirement, being about two miles from the village, half a mile from the nearest neighbor, and separated from the highway by a broad field; its bounding on the river, which the owner said protected it by its fogs from frosts in the spring, though that was nothing to me; the gray color and ruinous state of the house and barn, and the dilapidated fences, which put such an interval between me and the last occupant; the hollow and lichen-covered apple trees, gnawed by rabbits, showing what kind of neighbors I should have; but above all, the recollection I had of it from my earliest voyages up the river, when the house was concealed behind a dense grove of red maples, through which I heard the house-dog bark. I was in haste to buy it, before the proprietor finished getting out some rocks, cutting down the hollow apple trees, and grubbing up some young birches which had sprung up in the pasture, or, in short, had made any more of his improvements. To enjoy these advantages I was ready to carry it on; like Atlas, to take the world on my shoulders — I never heard what compensation he received for that — and do all those things which had no other motive or excuse but that I might pay for it and be unmolested in my possession of it; for I knew all the while that it would yield the most abundant crop of the kind I wanted if I could only afford to let it alone. But it turned out as I have said.

All that I could say, then, with respect to farming on a large scale (I have always cultivated a garden) was, that I had had my seeds ready. Many think that seeds improve with age. I have no doubt that time discriminates between the good and the bad; and when at last I shall plant, I shall be less likely to be disappointed. But I would say to my fellows, once for all, As long as possible live free and uncommitted. It makes but little difference whether you are committed to a farm or the county jail.

Old Cato, whose 'De Re Rusticâ' is my 'Cultivator', says, and the only translation I have seen makes sheer nonsense of the passage, 'When you think of getting a farm, turn it thus in your mind, not to buy greedily; nor spare your pains to look at it, and do not think it enough to go round it once. The oftener you go there the more it will please you, if it is good.' I think I shall not buy greedily, but go round and round it as long as I live, and be buried in it first, that it may please me the more at last.

The present was my next experiment of this kind, which I purpose to describe more at length; for convenience, putting the experience of two years into one. As I have said, I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up.

When first I took up my abode in the woods, that is, began to spend my nights as well as days there, which, by accident, was on Independence day, or the fourth of July, 1845, my house was not finished for winter, but was merely a defence against the rain, without plastering or chimney, the walls being of rough weather-stained boards, with wide chinks, which made it cool at night. The upright white hewn studs and freshly planed door and window casings gave it a clean and airy look, especially in the morning, when its timbers were saturated with dew, so that I fancied that by noon some sweet gum would exude from them. To my imagination it retained throughout the day more or less of this auroral character, reminding me of a certain house on a mountain which I had visited the year before. This was an airy and unplastered cabin, fit to entertain a travelling god, and where a goddess might trail her garments. The winds which passed over my dwelling were such as sweep over the ridges of mountains, bearing the broken strains, or celestial parts only, of terrestrial music. The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it. Olympus is but the outside of the earth every where.

The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward settling in the world. This frame, so slightly clad, was a sort of crystallization around me, and reacted on the builder. It was suggestive somewhat as a picture in outlines. I did not need to go out doors to take the air, for the atmosphere within had lost none of its freshness. It was not so much within doors as behind a door where I sat, even in the rainiest weather. The Harivansa says, 'An abode without birds is like a meat without seasoning.' Such was not my abode, for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by having imprisoned one, but having caged myself near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent the garden and the orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager — the wood-thrush, the veery, the scarlet tanager, the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, and many others.

I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half south of the village of Concord and somewhat higher than it, in the midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about two miles south of that our only field known to fame, Concord Battle Ground; but I was so low in the woods that the opposite shore, half a mile off, like the rest, covered with wood, was my most distant horizon. For the first week, whenever I looked out on the pond it impressed me like a tarn high up on the side of a mountain, its bottom far above the surface of other lakes, and, as the sun arose, I saw it throwing off its nightly clothing of mist, and here and there, by degrees, its soft ripples or its smooth reflecting surface was revealed, while the mists, like ghosts, were stealthily withdrawing in every direction into the woods, as at the breaking up of some nocturnal conventicle. The very dew seemed to hang upon the trees later into the day than usual, as on the sides of mountains.

This small lake was of most value as a neighbor in the intervals of a gentle rain storm in August, when, both air and water being perfectly still, but the sky overcast, mid-afternoon had all the serenity of evening, and the wood-thrush sang around, and was heard from shore to shore. A lake like this is never smoother than at such a time; and the clear portion of the air above it being shallow and darkened by clouds, the water, full of light and reflections, becomes a lower heaven itself so much the more important. From a hill top near by, where the wood had been recently cut off, there was a pleasing vista southward across the pond, through a wide indentation in the hills which form the shore there, where their opposite sides sloping toward each other suggested a stream flowing out in that direction through a wooded valley, but stream there was none. That way I looked between and over the near green hills to some distant and higher ones in the horizon, tinged with blue. Indeed, by standing on tiptoe I could catch a glimpse of some of the peaks of the still bluer and more distant mountain ranges in the north-west, those true-blue coins from heaven's own mint, and also of some portion of the village. But in other directions, even from this point, I could not see over or beyond the woods which surrounded me. It is well to have some water in your neighborhood, to give buoyancy to and float the earth. One value even of the smallest well is, that when you look into it you see that earth is not continent but insular. This is as important as that it keeps butter cool. When I looked across the pond from this peak toward the Sudbury meadows, which in time of flood I distinguished elevated perhaps by a mirage in their seething valley, like a coin in a basin, all the earth beyond the pond appeared like a thin crust insulated and floated even by this small sheet of intervening water, and I was reminded that this on which I dwelt was but dry land.

Though the view from my door was still more contracted, I did not feel crowded or confined in the least. There was pasture enough for my imagination. The low shrub-oak plateau to which the opposite shore arose, stretched away toward the prairies of the West and the steppes of Tartary, affording ample room for all the roving families of men. 'There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon' — said Damodara, when his herds required new and larger pastures.

Both place and time were changed, and I dwelt nearer to those parts of the universe and to those eras in history which had most attracted me. Where I lived was as far off as many a region viewed nightly by astronomers. We are wont to imagine rare and delectable places in some remote and more celestial corner of the system, behind the constellation of Cassiopeia's Chair, far from noise and disturbance. I discovered that my house actually had its site in such a withdrawn, but forever new and unprofaned, part of the universe. If it were worth the while to settle in those parts near to the Pleiades or the Hyades, to Aldebaran or Altair, then I was really there, or at an equal remoteness from the life which I had left behind, dwindled and twinkling with as fine a ray to my nearest neighbor, and to be seen only in moonless nights by him. Such was that part of creation where I had squatted —

There was a shepherd that did live,

And held his thoughts as high

As were the mounts whereon his flocks

Did hourly feed him by.

What should we think of the shepherd's life if his flocks always wandered to higher pastures than his thoughts?

Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself. I have been as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks. I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religious exercise, and one of the best things which I did. They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of king Tching-thang to this effect: 'Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again.' I can understand that. Morning brings back the heroic ages. I was as much affected by the faint hum of a mosquito making its invisible and unimaginable tour through my apartment at earliest dawn, when I was sitting with door and windows open, as I could be by any trumpet that ever sang of fame. It was Homer's requiem; itself an Iliad and Odyssey in the air, singing its own wrath and wanderings. There was something cosmical about it; a standing advertisement, till forbidden, of the everlasting vigor and fertility of the world. The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night. Little is to be expected of that day, if it can be called a day, to which we are not awakened by our Genius, but by the mechanical nudgings of some servitor, are not awakened by our own newly-acquired force and aspirations from within, accompanied by the undulations of celestial music, instead of factory bells, and a fragrance filling the air — to a higher life than we fell asleep from; and thus the darkness bear its fruit, and prove itself to be good, no less than the light. That man who does not believe that each day contains an earlier, more sacred, and auroral hour than he has yet profaned, has despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending and darkening way. After a partial cessation of his sensuous life, the soul of man, or its organs rather, are reinvigorated each day, and his Genius tries again what noble life it can make. All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere. The Vedas say, 'All intelligences awake with the morning.' Poetry and art, and the fairest and most memorable of the actions of men, date from such an hour. All poets and heroes, like Memnon, are the children of Aurora, and emit their music at sunrise. To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning. It matters not what the clocks say or the attitudes and labors of men. Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me. Moral reform is the effort to throw off sleep. Why is it that men give so poor an account of their day if they have not been slumbering? They are not such poor calculators. If they had not been overcome with drowsiness they would have performed something. The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face?

We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. Every man is tasked to make his life, even in its details, worthy of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical hour. If we refused, or rather used up, such paltry information as we get, the oracles would distinctly inform us how this might be done.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to 'glorify God and enjoy him forever'.

Still we live meanly, like ants; though the fable tells us that we were long ago changed into men; like pygmies we fight with cranes; it is error upon error, and clout upon clout, and our best virtue has for its occasion a superfluous and evitable wretchedness. Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. Our life is like a German Confederacy, made up of petty states, with its boundary forever fluctuating, so that even a German cannot tell you how it is bounded at any moment. The nation itself, with all its so called internal improvements, which, by the way, are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldly and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedless expense, by want of calculation and a worthy aim, as the million households in the land; and the only cure for it as for them is a rigid economy, a stern and more than Spartan simplicity of life and elevation of purpose. It lives too fast. Men think that it is essential that the Nation have commerce, and export ice, and talk through a telegraph, and ride thirty miles an hour, without a doubt, whether they do or not; but whether we should live like baboons or like men, is a little uncertain. If we do not get out sleepers, and forge rails, and devote days and nights to the work, but go to tinkering upon our lives to improve them, who will build railroads? And if railroads are not built, how shall we get to heaven in season? But if we stay at home and mind our business, who will want railroads? We do not ride on the railroad; it rides upon us. Did you ever think what those sleepers are that underlie the railroad? Each one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them, and they are covered with sand, and the cars run smoothly over them. They are sound sleepers, I assure you. And every few years a new lot is laid down and run over; so that, if some have the pleasure of riding on a rail, others have the misfortune to be ridden upon. And when they run over a man that is walking in his sleep, a supernumerary sleeper in the wrong position, and wake him up, they suddenly stop the cars, and make a hue and cry about it, as if this were an exception. I am glad to know that it takes a gang of men for every five miles to keep the sleepers down and level in their beds as it is, for this is a sign that they may sometime get up again.

Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined to be starved before we are hungry. Men say that a stitch in time saves nine, and so they take a thousand stitches to-day to save nine to-morrow. As for work, we haven't any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus' dance, and cannot possibly keep our heads still. If I should only give a few pulls at the parish bell-rope, as for a fire, that is, without setting the bell, there is hardly a man on his farm in the outskirts of Concord, notwithstanding that press of engagements which was his excuse so many times this morning, nor a boy, nor a woman, I might almost say, but would forsake all and follow that sound, not mainly to save property from the flames, but, if we will confess the truth, much more to see it burn, since burn it must, and we, be it known, did not set it on fire, — or to see it put out, and have a hand in it, if that is done as handsomely; yes, even if it were the parish church itself. Hardly a man takes a half hour's nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks, 'What's the news?' as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels. Some give directions to be waked every half hour, doubtless for no other purpose; and then, to pay for it, they tell what they have dreamed. After a night's sleep the news is as indispensable as the breakfast. 'Pray tell me any thing new that has happened to a man any where on this globe' — and he reads it over his coffee and rolls, that a man has had his eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River; never dreaming the while that he lives in the dark unfathomed mammoth cave of this world, and has but the rudiment of an eye himself.

For my part, I could easily do without the post-office. I think there are very few important communications made through it. To speak critically, I never received more than one or two letters in my life — I wrote this some years ago — that were worth the postage. The penny-post is, commonly, an institution through which you seriously offer a man that penny for his thoughts which is so often safely offered in jest. And I am sure that I never read any memorable news in a newspaper. If we read of one man robbed, or murdered, or killed by accident, or one house burned, or one vessel wrecked, or one steamboat blown up, or one cow run over on the Western Railroad, or one mad dog killed, or one lot of grasshoppers in the winter — we never need read of another. One is enough. If you are acquainted with the principle, what do you care for a myriad instances and applications? To a philosopher all news, as it is called, is gossip, and they who edit and read it are old women over their tea. Yet not a few are greedy after this gossip. There was such a rush, as I hear, the other day at one of the offices to learn the foreign news by the last arrival, that several large squares of plate glass belonging to the establishment were broken by the pressure — news which I seriously think a ready wit might write a twelvemonth or twelve years beforehand with sufficient accuracy. As for Spain, for instance, if you know how to throw in Don Carlos and the Infanta, and Don Pedro and Seville and Granada, from time to time in the right proportions — they may have changed the names a little since I saw the papers — and serve up a bull-fight when other entertainments fail, it will be true to the letter, and give us as good an idea of the exact state or ruin of things in Spain as the most succinct and lucid reports under this head in the newspapers: and as for England, almost the last significant scrap of news from that quarter was the revolution of 1649; and if you have learned the history of her crops for an average year, you never need attend to that thing again, unless your speculations are of a merely pecuniary character. If one may judge who rarely looks into the newspapers, nothing new does ever happen in foreign parts, a French revolution not excepted.

What news! how much more important to know what that is which was never old! 'Kieou-he-yu (great dignitary of the state of Wei) sent a man to Khoung-tseu to know his news. Khoung-tseu caused the messenger to be seated near him, and questioned him in these terms: What is your master doing? The messenger answered with respect: My master desires to diminish the number of his faults, but he cannot come to the end of them. The messenger being gone, the philosopher remarked: What a worthy messenger! What a worthy messenger!' The preacher, instead of vexing the ears of drowsy farmers on their day of rest at the end of the week — for Sunday is the fit conclusion of an ill-spent week, and not the fresh and brave beginning of a new one — with this one other draggletail of a sermon, should shout with thundering voice — 'Pause! Avast! Why so seeming fast, but deadly slow?'

Shams and delusions are esteemed for soundest truths, while reality is fabulous. If men would steadily observe realities only, and not allow themselves to be deluded, life, to compare it with such things as we know, would be like a fairy tale and the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. If we respected only what is inevitable and has a right to be, music and poetry would resound along the streets. When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence — that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. This is always exhilarating and sublime. By closing the eyes and slumbering, and consenting to be deceived by shows, men establish and confirm their daily life of routine and habit every where, which still is built on purely illusory foundations. Children, who play life, discern its true law and relations more clearly than men, who fail to live it worthily, but who think that they are wiser by experience, that is, by failure. I have read in a Hindoo book, that 'there was a king's son, who, being expelled in infancy from his native city, was brought up by a forester, and, growing up to maturity in that state, imagined himself to belong to the barbarous race with which he lived. One of his father's ministers having discovered him, revealed to him what he was, and the misconception of his character was removed, and he knew himself to be a prince. So soul,' continues the Hindoo philosopher, 'from the circumstances in which it is placed, mistakes its own character, until the truth is revealed to it by some holy teacher, and then it knows itself to be Brahme.' I perceive that we inhabitants of New England live this mean life that we do because our vision does not penetrate the surface of things. We think that that is which appears to be. If a man should walk through this town and see only the reality, where, think you, would the 'Milldam' go to? If he should give us an account of the realities he beheld there, we should not recognize the place in his description. Look at a meeting-house, or a court-house, or a jail, or a shop, or a dwelling-house, and say what that thing really is before a true gaze, and they would all go to pieces in your account of them. Men esteem truth remote, in the outskirts of the system, behind the farthest star, before Adam and after the last man. In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates in the present moment, and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages. And we are enabled to apprehend at all what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality that surrounds us. The universe constantly and obediently answers to our conceptions; whether we travel fast or slow, the track is laid for us. Let us spend our lives in conceiving then. The poet or the artist never yet had so fair and noble a design but some of his posterity at least could accomplish it.

Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation; let company come and let company go, let the bells ring and the children cry — determined to make a day of it. Why should we knock under and go with the stream? Let us not be upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, situated in the meridian shallows. Weather this danger and you are safe, for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, with morning vigor, sail by it, looking another way, tied to the mast like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider what kind of music they are like. Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe, through Paris and London, through New York and Boston and Concord, through church and state, through poetry and philosophy and religion, till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality, and say, This is, and no mistake; and then begin, having a point d'appui, below freshet and frost and fire, a place where you might found a wall or a state, or set a lamp-post safely, or perhaps a gauge, not a Nilometer, but a Realometer, that future ages might know how deep a freshet of shams and appearances had gathered from time to time. If you stand right fronting and face to face to a fact, you will see the sun glimmer on both its surfaces, as if it were a cimeter, and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow, and so you will happily conclude your mortal career. Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel cold in the extremities; if we are alive, let us go about our business.

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born. The intellect is a cleaver; it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things. I do not wish to be any more busy with my hands than is necessary. My head is hands and feet. I feel all my best faculties concentrated in it. My instinct tells me that my head is an organ for burrowing, as some creatures use their snout and fore-paws, and with it I would mine and burrow my way through these hills. I think that the richest vein is somewhere hereabouts; so by the divining rod and thin rising vapors I judge; and here I will begin to mine.

Winter Animals

When the ponds were firmly frozen, they afforded not only new and shorter routes to many points, but new views from their surfaces of the familiar landscape around them. When I crossed Flints' Pond, after it was covered with snow, though I had often paddled about and skated over it, it was so unexpectedly wide and so strange that I could think of nothing but Baffin's Bay. The Lincoln hills rose up around me at the extremity of a snowy plain, in which I did not remember to have stood before; and the fishermen, at an indeterminable distance over the ice, moving slowly about with their wolfish dogs, passed for sealers or Esquimaux, or in misty weather loomed like fabulous creatures, and I did not know whether they were giants or pygmies. I took this course when I went to lecture in Lincoln in the evening, travelling in no road and passing no house between my own hut and the lecture room. In Goose Pond, which lay in my way, a colony of muskrats dwelt, and raised their cabins high above the ice, though none could be seen abroad when I crossed it. Walden, being like the rest usually bare of snow, or with only shallow and interrupted drifts on it, was my yard, where I could walk freely when the snow was nearly two feet deep on a level elsewhere and the villagers were confined to their streets. There, far from the village street, and except at very long intervals, from the jingle of sleigh-bells, I slid and skated, as in a vast mooseyard well trodden, overhung by oak woods and solemn pines bent down with snow or bristling with icicles.

For sounds in winter nights, and often in winter days, I heard the forlorn but melodious note of a hooting owl indefinitely far; such a sound as the frozen earth would yield if struck with a suitable plectrum, the very lingua vernacula of Walden Wood, and quite familiar to me at last, though I never saw the bird while it was making it. I seldom opened my door in a winter evening without hearing it; Hoo hoo hoo, hoorer hoo, sounded sonorously, and the first three syllables accented somewhat like how der do; or sometimes hoo hoo only. One night in the beginning of winter, before the pond froze over, about nine o'clock, I was startled by the loud honking of a goose, and, stepping to the door, heard the sound of their wings like a tempest in the woods as they flew low over my house. They passed over the pond toward Fair Haven, seemingly deterred from settling by my light, their commodore honking all the while with a regular beat. Suddenly an unmistakable cat-owl from very near me, with the most harsh and tremendous voice I ever heard from any inhabitant of the woods, responded at regular intervals to the goose, as if determined to expose and disgrace this intruder from Hudson's Bay by exhibiting a greater compass and volume of voice in a native, and boo-hoo him out of Concord horizon. What do you mean by alarming the citadel at this time of night consecrated to me? Do you think I am ever caught napping at such an hour, and that I have not got lungs and a larynx as well as yourself? Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo-hoo! It was one of the most thrilling discords I ever heard. And yet, if you had a discriminating ear, there were in it the elements of a concord such as these plains never saw nor heard.

I also heard the whooping of the ice in the pond, my great bed-fellow in that part of Concord, as if it were restless in its bed and would fain turn over, were troubled with flatulency and bad dreams; or I was waked by the cracking of the ground by the frost, as if some one had driven a team against my door, and in the morning would find a crack in the earth a quarter of a mile long and a third of an inch wide.

Sometimes I heard the foxes as they ranged over the snow crust, in moonlight nights, in search of a partridge or other game, barking raggedly and demoniacally like forest dogs, as if laboring with some anxiety, or seeking expression, struggling for light and to be dogs outright and run freely in the streets; for if we take the ages into our account, may there not be a civilization going on among brutes as well as men? They seemed to me to be rudimental, burrowing men, still standing on their defence, awaiting their transformation. Sometimes one came near to my window, attracted by my light, barked a vulpine curse at me, and then retreated.

Usually the red squirrel (Sciurus Hudsonius) waked me in the dawn, coursing over the roof and up and down the sides of the house, as if sent out of the woods for this purpose. In the course of the winter I threw out half a bushel of ears of sweetcorn, which had not got ripe, on to the snow crust by my door, and was amused by watching the motions of the various animals which were baited by it. In the twilight and the night the rabbits came regularly and made a hearty meal. All day long the red squirrels came and went, and afforded me much entertainment by their manœuvres. One would approach at first warily through the shrub-oaks, running over the snow crust by fits and starts like a leaf blown by the wind, now a few paces this way, with wonderful speed and waste of energy, making inconceivable haste with his 'trotters', as if it were for a wager, and now as many paces that way, but never getting on more than half a rod at a time; and then suddenly pausing with a ludicrous expression and a gratuitous somerset, as if all the eyes in the universe were fixed on him — for all the motions of a squirrel, even in the most solitary recesses of the forest, imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl — wasting more time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to walk the whole distance — I never saw one walk — and then suddenly, before you could say Jack Robinson, he would be in the top of a young pitch-pine, winding up his clock and chiding all imaginary spectators, soliloquizing and talking to all the universe at the same time — for no reason that I could ever detect, or he himself was aware of, I suspect. At length he would reach the corn, and selecting a suitable ear, brisk about in the same uncertain trigonometrical way to the top-most stick of my wood-pile, before my window, where he looked me in the face, and there sit for hours, supplying himself with a new ear from time to time, nibbling at first voraciously and throwing the half-naked cobs about; till at length he grew more dainty still and played with his food, tasting only the inside of the kernel, and the ear, which was held balanced over the stick by one paw, slipped from his careless grasp and fell to the ground, when he would look over at it with a ludicrous expression of uncertainty, as if suspecting that it had life, with a mind not made up whether to get it again, or a new one, or be off; now thinking of corn, then listening to hear what was in the wind. So the little impudent fellow would waste many an ear in a fore-noon; till at last, seizing some longer and plumper one, considerably bigger than himself, and skilfully balancing it, he would set out with it to the woods, like a tiger with a buffalo, by the same zig-zag course and frequent pauses, scratching along with it as if it were too heavy for him and falling all the while, making its fall a diagonal between a perpendicular and horizontal, being determined to put it through at any rate; — a singularly frivolous and whimsical fellow; — and so he would get off with it to where he lived, perhaps carry it to the top of a pine tree forty or fifty rods distant, and I would afterwards find the cobs strewn about the woods in various directions.

At length the jays arrive, whose discordant screams were heard long before, as they were warily making their approach an eighth of a mile off, and in a stealthy and sneaking manner they flit from tree to tree, nearer and nearer, and pick up the kernels which the squirrels have dropped. Then, sitting on a pitch-pine bough, they attempt to swallow in their haste a kernel which is too big for their throats and chokes them; and after great labor they disgorge it, and spend an hour in the endeavor to crack it by repeated blows with their bills. They were manifestly thieves, and I had not much respect for them; but the squirrels, though at first shy, went to work as if they were taking what was their own.

Meanwhile also came the chicadees in flocks, which, picking up the crums the squirrels had dropped, flew to the nearest twig, and, placing them under their claws, hammered away at them with their little bills, as if it were an insect in the bark, till they were sufficiently reduced for their slender throats. A little flock of these tit-mice came daily to pick a dinner out of my wood-pile, or the crums at my door, with faint flitting lisping notes, like the tinkling of icicles in the grass, or else with sprightly day day day, or more rarely, in spring-like days, a wiry summery phe-be from the wood-side. They were so familiar that at length one alighted on an armful of wood which I was carrying in, and pecked at the sticks without fear. I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn. The squirrels also grew at last to be quite familiar, and occasionally stepped upon my shoe, when that was the nearest way.

When the ground was not yet quite covered, and again near the end of the winter, when the snow was melted on my south hill-side and about my wood-pile, the partridges came out of the woods morning and evening to feed there. Whichever side you walk in the woods the partridge bursts away on whirring wings, jarring the snow from the dry leaves and twigs on high, which comes sifting down in the sun-beams like golden dust; for this brave bird is not to be scared by winter. It is frequently covered up by drifts, and, it is said, 'sometimes plunges from on wing into the soft snow, where it remains concealed for a day or two'. I used to start them in the open land also, where they had come out of the woods at sunset to 'bud' the wild apple-trees. They will come regularly every evening to particular trees, where the cunning sportsman lies in wait for them, and the distant orchards next the woods suffer thus not a little. I am glad that the partridge gets fed, at any rate. It is Nature's own bird which lives on buds and diet-drink.

In dark winter mornings, or in short winter afternoons, I sometimes heard a pack of hounds threading all the woods with hounding cry and yelp, unable to resist the instinct of the chase, and the note of the hunting horn at intervals, proving that man was in the rear. The woods ring again, and yet no fox bursts forth on to the open level of the pond, nor following pack pursuing their Actæon. And perhaps at evening I see the hunters returning with a single brush trailing from their sleigh for a trophy, seeking their inn. They tell me that if the fox would remain in the bosom of the frozen earth he would be safe, or if he would run in a straight line away no fox-hound could overtake him; but, having left his pursuers far behind, he stops to rest and listen till they come up, and when he runs he circles round to his old haunts, where the hunters await him. Sometimes, however, he will run upon a wall many rods, and then leap off far to one side, and he appears to know that water will not retain his scent. A hunter told me that he once saw a fox pursued by hounds burst out on to Walden when the ice was covered with shallow puddles, run part way across, and then return to the same shore. Ere long the hounds arrived, but here they lost the scent. Sometimes a pack hunting by themselves would pass my door, and circle round my house, and yelp and hound without regarding me, as if afflicted by a species of madness, so that nothing could divert them from the pursuit. Thus they circle until they fall upon the recent trail of a fox, for a wise hound will forsake every thing else for this. One day a man came to my hut from Lexington to inquire after his hound that made a large track, and had been hunting for a week by himself. But I fear that he was not the wiser for all I told him, for every time I attempted to answer his questions he interrupted me by asking, 'What do you do here?' He had lost a dog, but found a man.

One old hunter who has a dry tongue, who used to！！come to bathe in Walden once every year when the water was warmest, and at such times looked in upon me, told me, that many years ago he took his gun one afternoon and went out for a cruise in Walden Wood; and as he walked the Wayland road he heard the cry of hounds approaching, and ere long a fox leaped the wall into the road, and as quick as thought leaped the other wall out of the road, and his swift bullet had not touched him. Some way behind came an old hound and her three pups in full pursuit, hunting on their own account, and disappeared again in the woods. Late in the afternoon, as he was resting in the thick woods south of Walden, he heard the voice of the hounds far over toward Fair Haven still pursuing the fox; and on they came, their hounding cry which made all the woods ring sounding nearer and nearer, now from Well-Meadow, now from the Baker Farm. For a long time he stood still and listened to their music, so sweet to a hunter's ear, when suddenly the fox appeared, threading the solemn aisles with an easy coursing pace, whose sound was concealed by a sympathetic rustle of the leaves, swift and still, keeping the ground, leaving his pursuers far behind; and, leaping upon a rock amid the woods, he sat erect and listening, with his back to the hunter. For a moment compassion restrained the latter's arm; but that was a short-lived mood, and as quick as thought can follow thought his piece was levelled, and whang! — the fox rolling over the rock lay dead on the ground. The hunter still kept his place and listened to the hounds. Still on they came, and now the near woods resounded through all their aisles with their demoniac cry. At length the old hound burst into view with muzzle to the ground, and snapping the air as if possessed, and ran directly to the rock; but spying the dead fox she suddenly ceased her hounding, as if struck dumb with amazement, and walked round and round him in silence; and one by one her pups arrived, and, like their mother, were sobered into silence by the mystery. Then the hunter came forward and stood in their midst, and the mystery was solved. They waited in silence while he skinned the fox, then followed the brush a while, and at length turned off into the woods again. That evening a Weston Squire came to the Concord hunter's cottage to inquire for his hounds, and told how for a week they had been hunting on their own account from Weston woods. The Concord hunter told him what he knew and offered him the skin; but the other declined it and departed. He did not find his hounds that night, but the next day learned that they had crossed the river and put up at a farmhouse for the night, whence, having been well fed, they took their departure early in the morning.

The hunter who told me this could remember one Sam Nutting, who used to hunt bears on Fair Haven Ledges, and exchange their skins for rum in Concord village; who told him, even, that he had seen a moose there. Nutting had a famous fox-hound named Burgoyne — he pronounced it Bugine — which my informant used to borrow. In the 'Wast Book' of an old trader of this town, who was also a captain, town-clerk, and representative, I find the following entry. Jan. 18th, 1742—3, 'John Melven Cr. by 1 Grey Fox 0—2—3'; they are not now found here; and in his leger, Feb. 7th, 1743, Hezekiah Stratton has credit 'by a Catt skin 0—1—'; of course; a wild-cat, for Stratton was a sergeant in the old French war, and would not have got credit for hunting less noble game. Credit is given for deer skins also, and they were daily sold. One man still preserves the horns of the last deer that was killed in this vicinity, and another has told me the particulars of the hunt in which his uncle was engaged. The hunters were formerly a numerous and merry crew here. I remember well one gaunt Nimrod who would catch up a leaf by the roadside and play a strain on it wilder and more melodious, if my memory serves me, than any hunting horn.

At midnight, when there was a moon, I sometimes met with hounds in my path prowling about the woods, which would skulk out of my way, as if afraid, and stand silent amid the bushes till I had passed.

Squirrels and wild mice disputed for my store of nuts. There were scores of pitch-pines around my house, from one to four inches in diameter, which had been gnawed by mice the previous winter — a Norwegian winter for them, for the snow lay long and deep, and they were obliged to mix a large proportion of pine bark with their other diet. These trees were alive and apparently flourishing at mid-summer, and many of them had grown a foot, though completely girdled; but after another winter such were without exception dead. It is remarkable that a single mouse should thus be allowed a whole pine tree for its dinner, gnawing round instead of up and down it; but perhaps it is necessary in order to thin these trees, which are wont to grow up densely.

The hares (Lepus Americanus) were very familiar. One had her form under my house all winter, separated from me only by the flooring, and she startled me each morning by her hasty departure when I began to stir, — thump, thump, thump, striking her head against the floor timbers in her hurry. They used to come round my door at dusk to nibble the potato parings which I had thrown out, and were so nearly the color of the ground that they could hardly be distinguished when still. Sometimes in the twilight I alternately lost and recovered sight of one sitting motionless under my window. When I opened my door in the evening, off they would go with a squeak and a bounce. Near at hand they only excited my pity. One evening one sat by my door two paces from me, at first trembling with fear, yet unwilling to move; a poor wee thing, lean and bony, with ragged ears and sharp nose, scant tail and slender paws. It looked as if Nature no longer contained the breed of nobler bloods, but stood on her last toes. Its large eyes appeared young and unhealthy, almost dropsical. I took a step, and lo, away it scud with an elastic spring over the snow crust, straightening its body and its limbs into graceful length, and soon put the forest between me and itself — the wild free venison, asserting its vigor and the dignity of Nature. Not without reason was its slenderness. Such then was its nature. (Lepus, levipes, light-foot, some think.)

What is a country without rabbits and partridges? They are among the most simple and indigenous animal products; ancient and venerable families known to antiquity as to modern times; of the very hue and substance of Nature, nearest allied to leaves and to the ground — and to one another; it is either winged or it is legged. It is hardly as if you had seen a wild creature when a rabbit or a partridge bursts away, only a natural one, as much to be expected as rustling leaves. The partridge and the rabbit are still sure to thrive, like true natives of the soil, whatever revolutions occur. If the forest is cut off, the sprouts and bushes which spring up afford them concealment, and they become more numerous than ever. That must be a poor country indeed that does not support a hare. Our woods teem with them both, and around every swamp may be seen the partridge or rabbit walk, beset with twiggy fences and horse-hair snares, which some cow-boy tends.

Conclusion

[...] Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board. The hospitality was as cold as the ices. I thought that there was no need of ice to freeze them. They talked to me of the age of the wine and the fame of the vintage; but I thought of an older, a newer, and purer wine, of a more glorious vintage, which they had not got, and could not buy. The style, the house and grounds and 'entertainment' pass for nothing with me. I called on the king, but he made me wait in his hall, and conducted like a man incapacitated for hospitality. There was a man in my neighborhood who lived in a hollow tree. His manners were truly regal. I should have done better had I called on him.

How long shall we sit in our porticoes practising idle and musty virtues, which any work would make impertinent? As if one were to begin the day with long-suffering, and hire a man to hoe his potatoes; and in the afternoon go forth to practise Christian meekness and charity with goodness aforethought! Consider the China pride and stagnant self-complacency of mankind. This generation reclines a little to congratulate itself on being the last of an illustrious line; and in Boston and London and Paris and Rome, thinking of its long descent, it speaks of its progress in art and science and literature with satisfaction. There are the Records of the Philosophical Societies, and the public Eulogies of Great Men! It is the good Adam contemplating his own virtue. 'Yes, we have done great deeds, and sung divine songs, which shall never die' — that is, as long as we can remember them. The learned societies and great men of Assyria — where are they? What youthful philosophers and experimentalists we are! There is not one of my readers who has yet lived a whole human life. These may be but the spring months in the life of the race. If we have had the seven-years' itch, we have not seen the seventeen-year locust yet in Concord. We are acquainted with a mere pellicle of the globe on which we live. Most have not delved six feet beneath the surface, nor leaped as many above it. We know not where we are. Beside, we are sound asleep nearly half our time. Yet we esteem ourselves wise, and have an established order on the surface. Truly, we are deep thinkers, we are ambitious spirits! As I stand over the insect crawling amid the pine needles on the forest floor, and endeavoring to conceal itself from my sight, and ask myself why it will cherish those humble thoughts, and hide its head from me who might, perhaps, be its benefactor, and impart to its race some cheering information, I am reminded of the greater Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over me the human insect.

There is an incessant influx of novelty into the world, and yet we tolerate incredible dulness. I need only suggest what kind of sermons are still listened to in the most enlightened countries. There are such words as joy and sorrow, but they are only the burden of a psalm, sung with a nasal twang, while we believe in the ordinary and mean. We think that we can change our clothes only. It is said that the British Empire is very large and respectable, and that the United States are a first-rate power. We do not believe that a tide rises and falls behind every man which can float the British Empire like a chip, if he should ever harbor it in his mind. Who knows what sort of seventeen-year locust will next come out of the ground? The government of the world I live in was not framed, like that of Britain, in after-dinner conversations over the wine.

The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats. It was not always dry land where we dwell. I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before science began to record its freshets. Every one has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first in Connecticut, and afterward in Massachusetts, — from an egg deposited in the living tree many years earlier still, as appeared by counting the annual layers beyond it; which was heard gnawing out for several weeks, hatched perchance by the heat of an urn. Who does not feel his faith in a resurrection and immortality strengthened by hearing of this? Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society, deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree, which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-seasoned tomb, — heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board, — may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!

I do not say that John or Jonathan★ will realize all this; but such is the character of that morrow which mere lapse of time can never make to dawn. The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.

目　录

中文目录

英文目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

论　自　然

（英汉双语）

［美］拉尔夫·瓦尔多·爱默生　著　吴瑞楠　译

中国出版集团

中国对外翻译出版公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

论自然/［美］拉尔夫·瓦尔多·爱默生著；吴瑞楠译—北京：中国对外翻译出版公司，2009.11

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-2525-9

Ⅰ．论…　Ⅱ．①拉…②吴…　Ⅲ．　　—　　　　—　　　Ⅳ．

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2009）第　　　　　号

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版公司

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排　　版／北京杰瑞腾达科技发展有限公司

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版　　次／2009年11月第一版

印　　次／2009年11月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-2525-9　定价：00.00元

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中国对外翻译出版公司

中文目录

自然

历史

自立

返回总目录

自　然

环环相扣的精妙链条，

向无垠的远方延伸；

目光解读它触及的征兆，

玫瑰诉说万语千言；

幼虫历尽一次次的蜕变，

导　言

我们这个时代是怀旧的。人们为逝者建墓立碑，写作各种传记、历史和评论。我们的祖先直视上帝和自然，我们却通过先人的眼睛与之交流。我们为什么不去享受一种与世界的全新关系呢？我们的诗歌和哲学为什么总是遵循传统，却没有洞察力呢？我们的宗教为什么要经由先人，而不是直接给我们启示呢？我们生活在自然的怀抱里，生命之流在我们体内和周围流淌，邀请我们凭借其力量与自然和谐相伴。我们为什么要在历史的残垣断壁中孜孜寻找呢？为什么要让今时的人身着褪色的旧服？今天，太阳同样放射光芒，原野和田间收获更多的羊毛和亚麻。土地是新的，人们是新的，思想也是新的。让我们创造自己的作品、法律和宗教吧。

当然，我们不会质疑那些无法回答的问题。我们必须相信上帝的创世是完美的，相信无论我们有多少好奇和不解，万物之序自有它的解释。每个人的状态，就是在象形意义上对他的疑问的解答。人类先有生活，而后才知晓真理。同样，自然已经在以它的形式和偏好，描述自身的存在。让我们来研读自然那伟大的灵魂吧，它在我们周围散发着宁静的光芒。让我们来探究自然的终极所在吧。

所有的科学都有一个目的：找到关于自然的理论。我们已经有了种族的理论、函数的理论，却没有一个，即便是模糊的，关于创世的概念。我们离发现真理还有遥远的路途。宗教布道者意见不和，彼此憎恨，而宗教研究者往往被认为既愚蠢又不可靠。然而，如果评判公正，最抽象的真理是最现实的。真理无论何时出现，都是自身最好的证据。证明真理的标准是，它可以解释一切现象。今天，许多问题仍然没有得到解答，人们甚至认为它们是无法解释的，如：语言、睡眠、疯狂、梦、怪兽、性。

从哲学意义上考虑，宇宙是由自然和心灵构成的。所以，严格说来，一切独立于我们之外的，所有哲学意义上的非我，即自然和艺术、他人，以及我自身都属于这一范畴。在细数自然的价值并计算其总和时，我指的是这个词的两层意义：通常意义和哲学含义。我们正在进行的探究非常宽泛，两种意义上的差别没有什么影响，并不会造成思想上的混乱。一般意义上讲，自然指的是未经人类改变的物质，如太空、空气、河流、树叶等。艺术则是人类的意愿与这些物质混和后的产物，比如一座房屋、一条运河、一尊雕像或是一幅画。但是，人类的参与总体而言是微不足道的，仅仅是修修补补，烘烤洗刷，并不能改变世界给予人的宏伟印象。

一

自　然

人不仅要远离社会，还需远离书房，方可进入孤独的境界。当我读书写作时，虽然无人相伴，但并不孤独。仰望星空吧，它会让你体验到什么是孤独。来自天国的光芒将你和你所接触的世界分离。你或许会想到，空气之所以是透明的，就是要让人类感受到天体那亘古不变的崇高和壮美。在城市的街道上仰望它们，多么壮观啊！假如这些繁星在一千年中仅仅出现一次，人们将如何信仰和崇拜它们啊，又将如何代代相传，纪念那上帝之城的光芒啊！然而，每一晚，这些美的使者都以训诫的微笑照亮寰宇。

繁星虽然每晚都会出现，人类却无法接近，也因而对其心生敬畏之情。当你放开心灵去感受万物时，你会发现一切自然之物都像星辰那样，令人产生类似的感觉。大自然从不平凡。最聪明的智者也无法穷尽自然的秘密，不会因发现自然的完美而失去好奇心。对智者来说，自然决不是一个玩物。鲜花、动物、山峦愉悦了他纯真的童年，也映射出他睿智的盛年。

当我们这样描述自然时，我们的感觉是清晰又极具诗意的。我们指的是各种自然物给予人的整体印象。正是这种整体印象将伐木工人看到的木头与诗人眼中的树木区别开来。今天早上我看到的迷人景象是由大约二三十个农场构成的。这块地属于米勒，旁边那块是洛克的，再远处的山林是曼宁的。然而，这迷人的风景却不属于他们中的任一位。只有诗人的眼睛才能将一个个农场的美景凝为一体。农场的景色融为一体，才成为最美，这并非农场主人的地契所能赋予的。

坦白地说，没有几个成年人能发现自然。大多数人意识不到太阳的存在。至少，他们对自然的理解是非常肤浅的。阳光仅能帮助成年人视物，却能深入孩童的眼睛和心灵。自然的热爱者，他内心和外在的感觉仍然是协调变化的，即使进入成年，他仍能保有童时的心灵。与天国和尘世的交流成为他每天生活的一部分。面对自然，即便他正经历苦痛，却有强烈的愉悦之情滋养身心。自然在诉说：我是他的造物主，不管他有多少痛苦，跟我在一起，他就是快乐的。不仅仅是白昼、夏日，每一小时、每一季节都给人带来愉悦。从令人窒息的正午到最阴冷的午夜，每一小时，每一变化，都使人产生不同的心境。无论是喜悦还是悲伤，自然都是契合的背景。若你身体健康，大自然的空气就是绝佳的甜果汁饮料。黎明时分，天空中满是云朵，穿过一片空旷的公地，脚下是雪地的小水洼，脑海中没有任何要交好运的念头闪过，我的心中却满是喜悦。我快乐得几乎要到恐惧的边缘。在树林里，人们丢掉年龄，就像蛇褪皮一样，在生命中的任何时期，都是孩子。在树林里，青春是永恒的。在这些上帝的树林里，仪礼和神圣主宰一切，节日四季不断，在这里生活即便是千年，也没有人会厌倦。在树林里，我们回归理性和信仰。在树林里，我感到，不会有不幸降临，没有耻辱，没有灾难（把双眼留给我），不幸、耻辱、灾难的伤害是自然也无法弥补的。站在空地上，沐浴在快乐的空气中，我仰头望向无尽的天穹——所有狭隘的自我消失了。我变成了一个透明的眼球。我什么都不是，我看到了一切。全能的上帝之流在我体内流淌，我是上帝的一个颗粒，是上帝的一部分。我最亲密朋友的名字听上去陌生又遥远，是兄弟？朋友？还是主仆？这一问题变得琐屑又扰人。我热爱那无限又永恒的美。原野更让我觉得可爱、可亲，胜过街道或是乡村。在静谧的风景里，在遥远的地平线上，人类看到了像其本性一样美的东西。

田野和树林赋予人的最大快乐，在于揭示了人与植物间的神秘关系。我并不孤独，也不陌生。植物冲我点头，我也向它们致意。在我看来，暴风雨中摇曳的树枝既新奇又熟悉，让我吃惊却并不陌生；就像是当我认为我在公正地思考或做事时，那种涌上心头的崇高思想或美好感觉。

然而，这种体验快乐的力量并非在于自然，而是属于人类，或是在于人与自然的和谐。体验这些快乐需要很有节制。因为，自然并非总是穿着节日的盛装，昨日因美丽少女嬉戏而飘香、灿烂的景象，今天却会布满忧郁。自然总是呈现心灵的色彩。在灾害后劳作的人啊，他燃起的火焰中带着悲伤。刚刚被死神夺去挚友的人啊，他在风景中感受到的还有一份冷漠。那些贫穷的小人物啊，看到的天空也不会那么壮观。

二

物　质

无论是谁，在思考世界的根源时，都会发现它是由许多不同元素构成的。这些元素可以归于以下几个范畴：物质、美、语言、知识。

在这里，我将所有自然给予我们的馈赠归为物质的范畴。当然，这种馈赠是暂时、过渡的，而不是最终的，如同物质相对于心灵。虽然物质是低一级的范畴，它本身却是完美的，也是所有人都感受到的自然的赠予。自然源源不断地向人类提供丰富的物质，使之在地球上得以生存和快乐，最终进入天堂。当我们想到这些时，人类的痛苦看上去就像孩童的任性。这些灿烂的装饰、充裕的物质、天穹、海洋、大地、阳光、云朵、气候、四季，什么样的天使才能创造出来呢？野兽、火焰、水流、岩石、谷物，都是人的奴仆。田野是他的居所、工作间、休息室、花园、卧室。

“侍奉他的奴仆，

多得超出他的想象。”

自然对于人类，不仅仅是物质，还是过程和结果。万物相互作用，每时每刻都在为人类谋福祉。风播下种子，太阳蒸发海洋，轻风将水蒸气送到田野，地球那侧的寒冰在这里化身为雨，雨水浇灌植物，植物养育动物。自然神圣的馈赠循环往复，哺育着人类。

有用的艺术是人类利用智慧对自然的馈赠进行再生产，或重新组合。他不再等待风的到来，却通过蒸气使埃俄罗斯①之袋的寓言成为现实，他的轮船蒸汽机承载了自然的三十二种风。人类用铁棒铺路，减少磨擦。他驾驭着马车，载着一车人、动物、商品，在一个个乡镇间穿行，就像一只雄鹰、一只燕子在天空急速飞过。自然的赐予使世界从诺亚方舟进入了拿破仑时代。人类有了城市、轮船、运河、桥梁。走进邮局，有人为你服务；进入书店，你会发现人们阅读、写作所有发生的事情；到了法院，国家纠正你的错误。你若在路边建了房子，人们每天来来往往，在下雪天铲除积雪，为你找出一条道来。

这里，没必要将物质的范畴一一列举。它是无穷尽的，例子非常明显，读者可自己想象。物质与更高的善相联系。人类之所以得到物质上的满足，并非是因为他可以被满足，而是因为他可以工作。

三

美

自然还满足人类另一个更崇贵的需求：热爱美。

古希腊人以“美”来描述世界。最原始的形态，如天空、山峦、树木、动物使人愉悦；这种愉悦是内含于事物本身的，由轮廓、颜色、动作和组合构成。这就是所有事物的本性，或者说是人类眼睛的塑造力。似乎美仅仅因眼睛而存在，眼睛是最好的艺术家。眼球的运动与光的规律结合在一起，就产生了视角。所有的物体都映射在色泽均匀、浓淡相宜的地球之上。无论个中物件如何平庸、不起眼，它们构成的风景都是圆满、对称的。正因为眼睛是最好的艺术家，所以光是最优秀的画家。无论多么丑陋的事物，强烈的光线都会使之美丽起来。光所给予人的感官刺激，所具有的像时空一样无限永恒的特性，让一切事物明快起来。即便是人类的遗体，也有它的美。但是，除了这种遍布于大自然的整体的美感，几乎所有的个体形象都是令人愉悦的。这从人类对某些形象从未停止的模仿和描画上就可以看出，比如：橡子、葡萄、松锥、麦耳、鸡蛋、飞鸟的翅膀和形态、狮爪、蟒蛇、蝴蝶、贝壳、火焰、云朵、花蕾、树叶，以及许许多多树的形态，如棕榈树等。

为了更好地理解，我们可以从三个方面来探究美的特点。

第一，对自然形态的认识和感受是一种快乐。自然的形态和行为对人类来说必不可少，即便在最低层次上，它也是物质和美的分界线。对于因工作或应酬而身心俱疲的人，自然可以疗伤，使他恢复气力。商人、律师从闹市的工作间走出，仰望天空，看到树林，就再次成为快乐的人儿。他在天空和树林永恒的宁静里，重新找回了自我。眼睛的健康似乎需要地平线的存在。只要我们能看得足够远，就不会感觉疲惫。

但在黎明和黄昏时分，自然不需借助物质，它的可爱足以愉悦人类。清晨，从黎明到日出，遥望远处的山顶，我的心情如天使一般。纤细的云朵在空中飘浮，像日出时大海中的游鱼，笼罩在深红色的光芒中。我站在地球上就好像在岸边，凝视安静的大海，似乎随着它千变万化；魔力进入我的身体，我开始膨胀，与晨风融为一体。自然以这几样极普通的元素使我们享有神明般的地位！赐予我健康和一天的时光，我将蔑视君王的虚华。黎明是我的亚述帝国；日落和月升是我的帕福斯②，那超出想象的仙境；正午是那充满理智与情感的英格兰；夜晚则是以神秘哲学和梦境著称的德意志。

一月份的日落时分同样充满魅力，除非我们的知觉在午后变得迟钝起来。在西方的天空下，云朵已经化成一片片粉色的薄云，有说不出的柔软，空中弥漫着生命的气息和活力。此时，呆在屋中，不去欣赏美景是多么痛苦啊。自然要述说什么呢？磨坊后面那安静的山谷，即使是荷马，或者莎士比亚也无法描述，它们难道没有意义吗？暮色中，光秃秃的树木变成了燃烧的火焰，远处东方的天空已变为深蓝色，死去的星状花朵，枯萎的茎干和残株挂着寒霜，这一切都化成了无声的音乐。

城市居民通常认为，乡村的景色一年中只有半年是宜人的。我却同样陶醉于冬日乡村的优雅，它给予我们的感动毫不逊于夏日。若细心观察，你会发现四季之美各有特色。一块田地，每一小时都呈现一幅全新的图画。天空总在变化，原野映出它的灿烂和阴郁。周围农场的作物让大地的表情周周都有不同。牧场和路边野生的植物默默提醒人们夏日的时光，在有心人的眼里，甚至可以揭示时光的流转。飞鸟和昆虫，就像植物那样守时，一拨拨来，一拨拨走，都在四季里找到各自的位置。沿着河流，景色变化更为明显。七月，蓝色的匹克罗草大片大片地盛开在浅浅的河床上，成群的黄色蝴蝶翩翩起舞。这华丽的紫色和黄色的美景啊，没有艺术能与之匹敌。河流总是穿着节日的盛装，每个月份都有新的装饰。

但是，这种人们看到、感受到的美景是自然最稀有的部分。白昼的美景、露水湿润的早晨、山峦、花儿盛开的果园、星辰、月光、安静水面上的倒影，如此种种，如若人们过于热切地追求，就变成了一场秀，化为泡影，嘲笑我们。走出屋外去看月亮，它仅仅是闪光的亮片。只有你身处旅途，月亮的光芒才会那么宜人。十月黄昏薄暮的美景又有谁能攫取呢？你去寻找，它却消失了，就像从那驿车窗口看到的幻影。

第二，美若要臻于完美，更高层次精神元素的存在是极重要的。崇高又神圣的美只有与人的意志相融合，才不会显得矫揉造作。美是上帝赋予美德的标记。每一个自然的行为都是优美的。每一次英雄的事迹都是高尚的，并让那环境和参与者也灿烂起来。伟大的事迹告诉我们，宇宙属于每一个个体。自然是每一个人的嫁妆和财产。如果人类愿意，自然就是属于他的。他可能会抛弃自然，或者偷偷地溜到一个角落，放弃他的自然王国。大部分人都会这样做，但人类生来就有权利拥有自然。人类能在多大程度上拥有它，取决于他的思想和意志。塞勒斯特说过：“一切人们耕作、建造、航行所追寻的事物都臣服于美德。”吉本则说：“风浪总是帮助最能干的水手。”不仅是风浪，太阳、月亮、所有的星辰皆是如此。高贵的行为发生，可能恰巧是在一个风景秀丽之处。斯巴达国王列奥尼达和他的三百勇士即将失去生命的一天，日月相继照耀德摩比勒隘口；阿诺德·温克里德在那高耸的阿尔卑斯山上，面对可能发生的雪崩抓起奥地利大把长矛，为他的战友杀开一条血路，难道美丽的风景没有让这些英雄的事迹更加辉煌吗？哥伦布的航船靠近美洲的海岸，岸上的土著居民纷纷逃离茅舍，他的身后是汪洋大海，四周是紫色的印第安群岛，我们又怎能将这位英雄与风景隔裂？新大陆没有用她的棕榈林和大草原来装点英雄吗？自然的美景总是像空气一样，悄无声息地环绕伟大的行为。当亨利·范爵士坐在雪撬上被拖上塔山，即将作为英国法律的先驱者牺牲生命时，人群中就有人向他高喊，“你的座位从未像今天那样荣耀”。查理二世为了恐吓伦敦的民众，迫使爱国人士罗素勋爵坐在敞开的马车上通过城市的大街，驶向绞刑架。罗素勋爵的传记作者这样写道：“众人在想象中，看到自由和美德与他比肩而坐。”在周围都是肮脏事物的环境里，追求真理，或是英雄的行为即刻将天空变成了自己的庙宇殿堂，太阳成为它的蜡烛。只要人类的思想足够伟大，自然就会伸开双臂，拥抱他。自然欣然地以玫瑰和紫罗兰跟随他的脚步，以她的壮丽和优雅装扮她可爱的孩子。只要人类的思想足够宽广，自然总会契合他的一举一动。具有美德的人与自然是融为一体的，是风景的中心人物。在我们的记忆中，荷马、品达、苏格拉底、福基昂③都与希腊的地理和气候完美地联系在一起。我们所能看到的天堂和尘世与耶稣休戚与共。生活中，具有坚强性格的天才，总能从容地主宰万物——人群、舆论、时光、自然都成为他的附属。

第三，美还有另外一个特点，它是理智思考的对象。美不仅与美德相联系，还与思想有关系。理智寻求万物的绝对秩序，不带任何感情色彩。思考与行动的力量似乎彼此接续，一方独有的行为催生另一方的行动。二者好像并不友好，但又像动物交替进行的进食和工作，前者为后者做准备，后者跟随前者发生。因此，与行动相联系的美，是自然产生的，也正因为并非刻意追求，美才得以生成。这种美成为思考所追逐理解的对象，又继而转化为行动的力量。神圣的事物不会消亡。所有的善都具有永恒重生的力量。人类的理智重新构画自然的美，不仅仅是为了思考，还为了新的创造。

自然给予所有人不同程度的影响。有些人因为自然而快乐，这种对美的热爱是一种喜好；还有一些人同样热爱自然，他们不满足于仰慕它，还要以新的形式将自然表现出来。这种对美的创造就是艺术。

艺术作品的创造有助于揭示人性的奥秘。艺术作品是对世界的抽象，是世界的缩影。它是缩微的自然，是对自然的表述。尽管自然界的万物数不胜数，千变万化，但对它们的表述却都是相似的，甚至是相同的。自然是由各种形态构成的海洋，它们极为相似。一片树叶、一缕阳光、一块土地、海洋给人带来相同的印象，它们所共有的完美和谐即是美。衡量美的标准是自然形态的统一——自然的一体完整性，这也体现在意大利人对美的定义上：“万物合一”。单个的事物不会太美丽，只有属于一个整体，才显出美来。诗人、画家、雕刻家、音乐家、建筑师，都试图将自然的美集中于一点，每一个人都在他的不同作品中满足对美的热爱。正是对美的热爱激发了他创作的热情。因此，艺术是经过人类加工的自然。在艺术作品里，人类将自然之物原初的美展现出来。

自然的存在，满足了人类灵魂对美的渴望。我称其为一种终极目标。至于灵魂为什么追求美，没有理由，也无法解释。在最广泛最深远的意义上，美是对世界的表达。上帝是完美的。真、善、美只是上帝的不同面孔。但是，美在本质上并不是最终的。它是内在永恒之美的预示，它本身并非完满又令人满足的善。美是个体，不是整体，也并非自然之源最终最崇高的表达。

四

语　言

语言是自然赠予人类的第三个礼物。自然是思想的载体，这一点可从三个方面来阐释。

一、词语是自然存在的符号表达。

二、特定的自然存在是精神存在的象征。

三、自然是精神的象征。

第一，词语是自然存在的符号表达。自然史的作用是帮助我们理解超自然的历史。物质存在的作用是给予我们语言，来表达精神的存在和变化。每一个表达道德或精神存在的词语，如果我们寻根究底，会发现它们都是起源于某些物质现象。正确包含直的意味，错误则有弯曲的含义；精神最初的含义是风；谮越原指跨过一条线；傲慢是说扬起眉毛。我们说，心表达情感，头脑传达思想；思想和情感这两个词来自有形的物质存在，现在专门指代精神的意义。这种变化大多数在遥远的语言成形时期就已经发生了，我们无法得知其中详情。但在日常生活中，我们却可以在儿童身上发现类似的表现。儿童和原始人只使用名词或事物的名字，他们将这些名称转化成动词，并用来表达类似的精神行为。

第二，所有表达精神含义的词语都起源于自然界的物质，这是语言史上一个非常明显的特点。然而，这远非自然对人类的最大恩惠。不仅仅是词语具有象征意义，物质存在本身都具有象征意义。每一个自然事实都是某些精神存在的象征。每一个自然现象都对应一种思想状态，这种思想状态只有通过对自然现象的描画才能表述出来。暴怒的人是狮子，狡猾的人是狐狸，坚定的人是岩石，博学的人是火炬。羔羊寓义天真，蛇代表恶毒，鲜花表达爱意。光明和黑暗是我们熟知的对知识和无知的表述；热则用来形容爱情。我们背后和面前的可视距离，则分别代表回忆和希望。

站在河边深思的人，谁又不会想到万物的流动呢？向溪水中投掷一枚石子，那一圈圈的涟漪完美显现了事物之间的相互影响。人类意识到，上帝存在于他的生活中，就像正义、真理、爱、自由在天穹升起，熠熠生辉。他称上帝为理性：它不属于我，不属于你，也不属于他。我们人类是它的财产，它的子民。地球所处的蓝色宇宙，布满永恒的天体，处于亘古不变的宁静中，这就是理性的一种。与自然相联系的理性，我们称之为精神。精神是造物主。它本身具有生命。所有时代、所有国家的人都称其为“我父上帝”。

很容易可以看出，这些类比没有任何偶然的因素在内，没有变化，它们是一贯的、恒定的，在自然中无处不在。这些并非少许几个诗人的梦想，人类是善于类比的，他探究万物间的联系。人被置于万物的中心，联系的光线从每一个事物指向他。没有其他事物，人类无法被理解，没有人类其他事物也不可能被理解。自然历史上的所有存在，如果单独来看，没有任何意义，就像仅有男人或女人，并无生命力。若将它与人类的历史结合起来，就充满了生机和活力。自然学家关于动植物的著述仅仅是枯燥的对事实的记录。但是，这些事实中最不起眼的部分，如某个植物的习性、某个昆虫的器官、工作或声音，假如用来说明思想哲学的某个事实，或与人类的本性联系起来，就能以一种最为生动和宜人的方式打动我们。植物的种子在有关人类本性的比喻中被应用到了极致，以至于保罗将人的尸体比作种子：“它作为自然的实体被播种；成为精神的实体被收获。”地球自转，产生日夜；它绕太阳转动，生成四季。虽然这些仅仅是光和热的变化，但是人的生活和四季间没有相似之处吗？四季难道不因这种类比而披上华彩，增添感伤吗？假如我们认为蚂蚁就只是蚂蚁而已，它的本能就微不足道了。但是，如果我们将它与人类联系起来，就会对它有新的认识。辛苦劳作的蚂蚁就好像人类的督导员，弱小的身体里却藏着一颗坚强的心。如此一来，蚂蚁的习性，包括最近刚刚发现的它从不睡觉，都变得崇高起来。

正因为可见的物质存在与人类思想具有这种根本的对应关系，只有生活必需品的原始人是以图像来交流的。沿着人类的历史逐步回溯，语言的形象化就越来越明显。语言最初成形时，完全以诗歌的形式存在，所有精神存在都是通过自然的象征来表达。而这些象征正是语言最初的组成部分。人们还发现，不同语言中的成语在那些最雄辩最有力的篇章中是相似的。最古老的语言是这样，最新的语言也是如此。语言从自然中生成，它将自然的现象转变成某种人类的生活，它对我们的影响力从未减弱过。正是这种影响力使性情刚强的农夫或边疆居民的言谈增添了一分酣畅淋漓，得到所有人的喜爱。

人类用恰当的象征符号来表达思想，并通过语言描述出来的这种能力取决于他质朴的个性，也即是他对真理的热爱，以及完整传达真理的愿望。人类堕落之后，语言也随之堕落。如果人类质朴的本性和独立的思想被各种衍生的欲望取代，如对财富、享乐、权力、奉承的追求，复杂和虚妄代替了质朴和真理，人类就在某种程度上失去了利用自然阐释意志的能力。新的形象不再生成；旧的词语受到歪曲，就不再传达正确的含义；当金库里不再有黄金时，纸币就产生了。到了某个时候，欺骗和虚假成为主宰，词语就再也无法达意，不能激发人类情感了。在每一个高度文明的国家，都有数以百计的作家，他们仅在一个较短的时期内相信，或使别人相信，他们看到了并且说出了真理。他们自身并不是利用自然来表达思想，而是无意识地应用了最早期作家所创造的语言。那些最早期的作家才真正是以自然为语言。

但是，睿智的人会丢弃那些陈腐的措辞，再次将语言与自然之物联系起来。图画般的语言郑重证明了，使用它的人是与真理和上帝站在一起的。有时，我们的语言会超越日常熟悉的事实，充满激情，或因思想而升华，此时的语言完全是各种自然的形象。一个正在诚挚交谈的人，如果他注意到自己的思想历程，会发现与他的每一个想法相伴，都有一个或多或少明亮的物质形象出现在脑海里。这个形象即是思想的外衣。因此，好的作品和精彩的演讲都是永恒的隐喻。这种形象是自然生成的，是经验与即时思想活动的融合，是恰当的创造。它是上帝对自然之子的再创造。

以上事实或许可以说明，对于富有思想的人，乡村生活要胜于拥挤又虚伪的城市生活。从自然中我们知晓更多，而不仅仅是我们想要表达的。自然的光芒洒进我们的思维，我们几乎忘记它的存在。在树林中长大的诗人或演说家，自然那美丽又令人愉悦的变化满足了他的感官需求，年复一年，从无定式，悄无声息。城市的喧嚣或是政界的纷争也不会使他全然忘掉自然的教诲。多年以后，当他身处充斥着愤怒和恐惧的国民议会中，在那革命的时刻，自然那神圣的意象将再次闪耀光芒，就像合适的象征，完美表达了他彼时的感受。受到高尚情感的召唤，他再次看到、听到那摇动的树林、低语的松枝、波光粼粼的河流，还有山脚下的水牛，就像他童时看到和听到的一样。有了这些自然形象的帮助，他就拥有了游说的魔力，掌握了力量之匙。

第三，自然之物帮助我们表达特定的意义。但是，表达这些琐屑信息的语言是多么伟大啊！这些高贵的物种、多姿多彩的自然形态、天穹中那数不清的天体，它们的存在就只是为他市政演说中提供单词和语法吗？当我们利用这种伟大的暗码使生活更加方便时，我们并没有发挥到极致，也没有能力做到。我们就像旅行者，利用火山的余烬来烤鸡蛋。尽管我们知道，自然每时每刻都能传达我们的思想，我们却禁不住要问，自然本身难道就没有意义吗？山峦、海浪、天空，我们将它们作为象征，来表达我们的思想。除此之外，它们没有任何意义吗？世界是象征的。我们言语中的一部分是隐喻，因为自然是人类思想的一个隐喻。精神世界的法则与物质世界一一对应，就像镜子内外的两个形象。“可见的物质世界及其各组成部分的相互关系是不可见的精神世界的刻度盘。”物理学的公理阐释了伦理学的法则。比如，“整体大于部分”；“反作用力等于作用力”；“如果用时间来弥补质量之差，最轻的物体可以撬动最重的物体。”其他类似的命题还有很多，它们不仅具有物理学意义，还有伦理学意义。这些命题被应用于人类生活时，它们的意义更广泛、更普遍。

同样地，历史上流传下来的谚语以及各个民族的格言通常由自然事实构成，用来寓意表达道德上的真理。比如：滚石不生苔；一鸟在手胜于二鸟在林；走对路的瘸子要快过走错路的运动员；趁热打铁；杯满则溢；青出于蓝；压倒骆驼的最后一根稻草；早生根的树更长久；如此种种。这些谚语最初只是琐屑的自然事实，却因为它们的象征意义不断得到重复。谚语是这样，所有的神话、寓言、隐喻都是如此。

物质与精神间的这种联系并非是某个诗人凭空想象的，而是上帝的意志，所有人都可以知晓。它在人类面前时隐时现。当我们在某些幸运的时刻思考这个奇迹时，智慧的人会反思：他在其他时刻是否目不能视，耳不能闻？

“这些奇迹的存在，

像夏日的云朵征服我们，

不应引起我们特别惊叹吗？”

此时，宇宙变得透明，上帝之律的光芒穿越世界。自从世界出现，这个问题就不断地激发天资聪颖的人去思考和研究，从古代埃及人和印度婆罗门，到毕达哥拉斯、柏拉图、培根、莱布尼兹、斯威登堡，无不如此。斯芬克斯一直蹲踞路旁，一代代的预言家从她身边走过，都要碰碰运气，企图解开她的谜语。看来精神必须凭借物质形态来表现自己。白昼与黑夜、河流与风暴、飞禽与走兽、酸与碱，都预存于上帝的理念中，因为它们是先于精神情感的特点而得以成为物质。可见的物质事实是不可见的精神的最终表现。物质世界是精神世界的终端，或者说精神世界内含于物质世界中。有位法国哲学家这样说：“物质实体必然是造物主思想提炼后的产物，与其母体必定保留着某种关系。换句话说，物质世界的自然必然包含精神和道德的特点。”

这个概念很难理解。尽管以上我们提到的镜子、外衣、提炼等形象可以激发想象，但是我们还需要更精确更重要的方法来解释它。“每条经文都应凭借生成它的精神来解读”——这是批评的基本法则。与自然和谐相处的生活、对真理和美德的热爱，将使人类的双眼得到净化，从而了解自然的含义。我们将逐步理解永恒的自然之物的最初含义，世界就是一本打开的书，每个自然形态都因它隐含的生命和终极缘由而具有意义。

根据以上所说，当我们思考广博的自然世界时，不禁会吃一惊，因为“每个自然物，如果观察得当，都展示了一种新的精神力量。”这种精神力量是无意识的真理，当人类通过自然物来定义和解释它时，它就变成了知识领域的一部分。知识则是获得力量的新武器。

五

知　识

此时，我们对自然的意义有了新的认识，它是赋予人类知识的导师。以上所说的世界对人类的种种馈赠都包含在这层含义里面。

空间、时间、社会、劳动、气候、食物、运动、动物、机械力，每时每刻都给予人类无限最真实的知识。它们不仅指导人类的感性认识，还帮助他进行理性推断。每一样物质都使人类产生感性认识，如：它的体积、抵抗力、惯性、延展性、形状、可分割性等等。这种感性认识经过一系列的融合变化，最终发现该物质在自然界存在的原因和作用。同时，人类的理性推断力意识到物质与精神的联系，将这些感性认识转变成自己的思想。

第一，自然是人类理解精神世界真理的导师。我们在与自然界万物接触的过程中，不断地学习事物之间的相同和不同、万物的秩序、存在和表象、逐步发展的过程、从个体到一般，以及各种力量的综合。个体越重要，自然的教诲就越细致，所有事物都是如此。日复一日，年复一年，漫长的学习过程从未停止，直到人类拥有了常识；与此同时，烦恼、不便、困境不断出现；为平凡的人而欢欣；对价格争执不休，对利益锱铢必较；所有这一切都是为了给人类添上思想之翼，教导我们“好的思想如果不付诸实施，就不过是黄粱美梦！”

财产及其相关的债权和债务对人类有同样的帮助。债务，可怕的债务，无情的债务使孀妇、孤儿和天才之子对它既怕又恨。它耗尽人的时间，折磨人的心灵，它对人类的作为看上去那么可憎。然而，它是一位训诫者，它对人类的教导决不能丢弃，那些受它折磨的人最需要它。更重要的是，财产曾被恰当地比作雪花——“如果雪花今天落下，明天就会被风吹走。”它是内在机制的外部表现，就像钟表表盘上的指针。虽然人类的理解力受到考验，从更高的精神视角来看，他正在体验更深层次的法则。

个人理解力方面极小的差异，比如对于不同的认识，都影响到性格和运气。人类对时空的理解也是如此，他可能会发现世间万物并不是拥挤地混杂在一起，而是一个个独立的个体。钟和犁各有用途，彼此无法替代。水适于饮用，煤用来燃烧，羊毛可以制衣；但羊毛无法饮用，水不能制衣，煤也不可食用。有智慧的人懂得区分事物，知道给事物排序，他理解的生物与美德像自然一样广博。愚蠢的人不懂得区分，以为人与人都是一样的。他们认为“不好”即是“最差”，“不坏”就是“最好”。

同样，自然对人类的关注是多么细微啊！她不原谅任何的错误，是就是是，否就是否。

农业、天文学、动物学的最基本知识（农民、猎人、水手最初学习的知识）教给我们，自然永远都在掷骰子；自然的垃圾堆里隐藏着明确又有用的果实。

人类理解了一个又一个物理学的法则，是多么平静和快活啊！他走进造物的世界，明白人类生存的特权，多么高贵的情感在他心中激荡啊！洞察力使他更高尚纯净。自然的美在他胸中闪耀。人类明白这些了，他就变得更为高大，宇宙则渺小起来，因为时空关系随着自然法则的揭示而消失。

人类要探索的宇宙是那么浩瀚，再一次使我们震撼，甚至是畏惧。“相比未知的领域，我们已知的只是沧海一粟。”打开一本近期的科学杂志，看看有关光、热、电、磁、生理学、地理学等方面的问题，你就知道人类对自然科学的兴趣是不会很快消失的。

在自然众多的教诲中，我们必须特别指出其中的两点。

自然世界的每一个事件，都教导人类运用意志或力量。孩童渐渐学会驾驭自己的感官意识，直到有一天他说：“我会做到。”他参透了秘密，明白只要他愿意，他不仅可以简化特定的事件，还能分解一系列的事件，使所有事实遵从他。自然完全是一种媒介，它存在的意义即是为人类服务。自然接受人类的主宰，温顺地就像救世主耶稣的毛驴。自然王国就是人类的原材料，他将其加工成有价值的事物。人类将细微精妙的空气变成智慧优美的言语，再添上翅膀，使其成为劝导和命令的天使。人类胜利的思想一个接一个地产生并分解所有的事物，直至世界最终变成一个实现了的意志——人类的自我复制。

第二，可感知的事物符合理性的预感，并反映良知。一切事物都具有道德意义；在它们无限的变化中，精神本性是永恒存在的。自然因为无限的形态、色彩和运动而壮丽华美。遥远寰宇中的每一个天体；最粗糙水晶的每一个化学变化乃至生命的法则；从一片树叶的生长到热带森林和上古的煤矿、每一个植物的变化；从海绵到赫拉克勒斯④，每一个动物的行为，都以或明或暗的方式教导人类有关正确与错误的法则，与《十诫》相呼应。自然从来都是宗教的盟友，向宗教情感出借所有的壮丽景色和财富。大卫、以赛亚、耶稣，这些预言家和布道者都曾从自然中获得大量帮助。伦理的特点如此深入自然的骨髓，似乎这就是自然存在的目的。无论自然的个体满足了怎样的人类需求，伦理意义是自然公共又普遍的功能，决不可忽视。自然个体的价值从来不会被消耗殆尽。当事物在某方面已经得到最大程度的利用时，对于另一个外部需求来说，它仍是全新的。在上帝眼中，每一个目的都是新的工具。因此，对物资的使用，从它本身来说是卑微可鄙的。但对思想来说，它却教导了人类什么是价值，即：事物必须有用，才是好的；对任何自然的个体来说，各组成部分共同协作，实现最终目的是至关重要的。这个真理最直白的表现就是，我们虽然不喜欢，却必须从玉米和食物中知道什么是价值，什么是需求。

如上所述，所有的自然过程都蕴含道德意义。道德法则是自然的核心，向四周辐射其影响，是所有物质、联系、过程的精髓。我们接触的一切事物都在向我们布道。农场不就是无声的绝对真理吗？谷壳、麦子、野草、庄稼、病害、雨水、昆虫、太阳，从春天的第一条垄沟到冬雪覆盖的残株，一切都是神圣的象征。水手、牧羊人、矿工、商人，在他们各自的领域里体验类似的经历，得出相同的结论：所有的组织都是极相似的。道德的情感在空气中弥漫，在谷物中生长，浸入水流，被人类吸收，沁入心灵，这一点不容置疑。自然对人类的道德影响即是它教导人类的真理。谁能说出这影响有多大呢？谁又猜得出饱受海浪拍打的岩石教给了渔夫多少坚强？碧蓝的天空，纯净澄澈，风摇移朵朵白云，不着一丝痕迹，人类从中感知多少的宁静啊？百兽出演的无言的戏剧，教给了人类多少勤奋、神意和爱啊？多变的健康状况是多么孜孜不倦的自律的布道者啊！

我们要特别理解一下自然的统一性。它是变化中的统一，在自然中随处可遇。万物无穷无尽的变化都给人相同的印象。色诺芬⑤在晚年时抱怨说，无论他看到的是什么，都展现出统一性。在不同的形态中看到同样的存在，这让他感到厌倦。普洛透斯的寓言蕴含温和的真理。一片树叶、一滴水、一块水晶、一段时间，都与整体相关，与整体的完善密不可分。每个个体都是一个微观世界，真实地体现世界的统一性。

这种统一性不仅存在于类比明显的事物中，比如，我们在化石中发现类似人类手掌的动物脚蹼，还存在于表面上差异很大的事物中。斯塔尔和歌德将建筑称作“凝固的音乐”。维特鲁威认为建筑师也应该是音乐家。柯尔律治说：“哥特式的教堂是石化了的宗教。”米开朗基罗认为，解剖学方面的知识对建筑师来说非常重要。在海顿的清唱剧中，音符不仅使人想象出蛇、鹿、大象的移动，还使人看到明亮的色彩：如绿草。和谐音乐的法则在和谐的色彩中重现。花岗石与冲刷它的河流之不同，只是热量的多少；流动的河水像吹拂它的空气；空气像穿越它的更复杂的光；光像其携带穿透太空的热。每个事物仅仅是另一个事物的变体，它们的相同之处远超过差异，它们的基本法则是同一的。一门艺术或某个组织的法则，在自然中都是适用的。这种统一性极其密切，很容易发现，它藏在自然最深层的衣饰下，显露普遍精神的起源；它同样遍布人类的思想。我们用词语表达的每一个普遍真理，都暗示或推断了另一个真理。所有的真理都是一致的。就像球面上的大圆，包含所有可能的小圆。或者说，一个个小圆构成大圆。从一个侧面看，每一个真理都是绝对的实体。但是，这个绝对的实体却由无数的侧面构成。

世界的统一性在行动中更为明显。词语是对无限思想的有限表达，无法表现真理的全部内涵。词语打断割裂了真理，使它的意义丢失。行动则是思想的外化，是思想的完善。正确的行动似乎可以占据人们的视线，与整个自然联系起来。“睿智的人做一件事，也完成了其他的事；他只做一件正确的事，就发现了所有正确行动的相似性。”

词语和行动并非原始自然的属性，它们使人类形态得以生成。与人类相比，所有其他机体看上去都是退化和堕落。当人类在万物中出现时，上帝偏爱他胜过一切。它说：“我从人类那儿得到快乐和知识；我从人类中发现并看到了自己；我愿向他言语；他能再次言语；他可予我已经成形的鲜活的思想。”事实上，眼睛（即是思维）永远看到人类的形态，男人和女人；这些形态是处于万物核心的力量和秩序最丰富的信息。不幸的是，每个人类形态都带着某种伤害的痕迹，遭到损毁，表面看来是有缺陷的。然而，与周围沉默无声的自然相比，在深不可测的思想海洋中，人类像是泉水的导管，唯有他是通向所有组织形态的入口。

详细探究自然对人类的教诲是一件快乐的事，但哪里有尽头呢？我们在青年和成年生活中有一些朋友，他们就像天空和流水，与我们的思想一致；我们在某方面喜爱他们，他们使我们满意；我们无法将他们置于很近的位置，来改变甚至是分析他们。我们只能选择爱他们。上帝送来一位真实的胜过我们理想的人，我们与他深入交流，得知优秀的标准，对上帝的才智更为尊重；当这位朋友成为思想的对象，尽管他的性格仍保留了所有无意识的影响，他在我们的思维里已变成了真实怡人的智慧。这是一个信号：他的职责即将完成，通常情况下，不久他就会离开我们的视线。

六

理　念

就这样，自然通过每一个感官的对象，将世界无法言说但又可以理解的实际意义传达给人类，那永生的门徒。在教导人类知识方面，自然的所有组成部分都扮演了某个角色。

一个崇高的疑问始终挥之不去：知识是否宇宙的最终因？外在的自然存在吗？上帝教导人类，使人类获得一系列一致的感觉，我们称之为太阳和月亮、男人和女人、房子和交易，这足以描述我们称为世界的表象。我毫无办法检验感觉的真实性，不知道它们带给我的印象是否与实际的对象相符，这会有什么不同呢？俄里翁⑥在天堂里吗？有哪一个神灵描画灵魂的外衣吗？万物间的联系和一切事物的终极目标保持不变，区别是什么呢？陆地与海洋相互作用吗？无数的世界不断演化、融合（在绝对空间里，海洋下面接着海洋，星系连着星系），如果时空关系不再存在，人类还会永远信仰同样的表象吗？自然有真实的外在存在吗？还是只存在于思想的启示里？在我看来，它既有用，又脆弱。无论它是什么，只要我无法验证感觉的准确性，自然就是理念。

这种理念论令轻佻的人发笑，好像这种理论很滑稽，好像它影响了自然的稳定性。它当然不会。上帝从不与人类开玩笑，也不会就自然的终极目标妥协，不会允许自然的队列出现任何矛盾。对于永恒自然法则的任何怀疑都会使人类丧失能力。永恒的自然法则受到神圣的尊崇，人类的信仰也因此而完美。人类的力量和活力即是在自然永恒的假设下设定。人类像一座矗立的房子，而不是摇摆的帆船。因此，只要行动的力量超越思想的力量，对于任何自然比精神更短暂、更多变的暗示，我们都将愤怒地反对。经纪人、车匠、木工、收费员对于这种暗示都深为不满。

但是，尽管我们完全认同自然法则是永恒的，自然的绝对存在仍然是一个开放的问题。文明无一例外地使人类坚信特定自然现象的不变性，如：热、水、氮；却又引导我们将自然视为现象，而非存在；将存在归因于精神；认为自然是偶然，是结果。

感官认识和未开化的理解力，使人们本能地相信自然是绝对存在的，人类与自然密不可分，万物是终极结果。未经教化的人，目光从不会超越他居住的区域。理性的存在使人类对绝对自然的信仰受到质疑。思想一开始就试图放松感官认识对人类的束缚，向我们展示自然是浮动的、超然的。直到理性介入，人类的眼睛才精确地看到清晰的轮廓和五彩的表象。理性给这些轮廓和表象增添了优雅，使它们生动起来。这些来自于人类的想象和爱，使万物的棱角变得柔和了。假如理性激发人类更真切的想象，轮廓和表象就变得透明，不见了，人类从中看到的是原因和精神。此时，人类唤醒那更高层次的力量，虔诚地将自然回归它的造物主，这个时刻多么宜人啊！它是人生最美妙的时刻。

让我们来逐一说明文明的作用吧。

一、理念哲学最初产成就是源自自然的暗示。

上帝创造自然，让它与精神一起来解放我们。某些机械的变化，我们所处位置的改变，使我们意识到二元论的存在。在不同情形下看岸边，比如：在航行的帆船上、在热气球上，或是透过色彩奇异的天空，都让我们产生特殊的感受。视角的任何微小变化，都让世界宛若图画。很少乘车的人只需坐上一辆马车，穿过小镇的街道，街景就变成了木偶剧。男人和女人们在交谈、奔跑、交易、打架，诚恳的机械师、散步的人、乞丐、小男孩们、狗，都变得虚幻了，与旁观者不再有任何联系，变透明了，不再是真实的存在。在快速移动的火车车厢里，看到熟悉的乡村，会激发多少新的思考啊！不仅如此，最平常的事物，只需稍稍改变一下视角，就能给我们最大的快乐。在照相机的镜头里，卖肉小贩的马车、我们家人的样子都让我们发笑。某个著名人物的肖像则让我们满足。弯下腰，从两腿中间看远处的风景，你会觉得风景真美啊，尽管在过去二十年里你曾经无数次看到它。

借助机械工具，我们发现了观察者与景色的差别，也就是人类与自然的区别。我们感受到的不只是愉悦，还伴随着敬畏。我可以说，人类明白了：世界是一种现象，人类本身却拥有某种永恒的特质。这一事实让我们感受到某种程度的崇高。

二、诗人以更高的方式传达同样的愉悦。只需寥寥数笔，他就描绘出了太阳、山峦、帐篷、城市、英雄、少女，这些与我们所知的并无不同，只是脱离了地面，浮动在我们眼前，就像在空中一样。他移动土地和海洋，使之围绕他的思想转动，呈现出全新的姿态。英雄的感情占据了他的身心，并将物质作为象征。只听从感觉的人，其思想遵从物质；诗人则使万物符合他的思想。前者认为自然是固定、坚实的；诗人则将自然看作流动的，影响着他的存在。在诗人看来，执拗的世界是灵活易塑的；他赋予灰尘和石头人性的光芒，使它们成为理性的语言。想象力可以定义为理性对物质世界的应用。莎士比亚利用自然来达意的能力居所有诗人之首。自然的万物就像他手中的玩物，可以表达任何思想的变化。自然最偏僻的角落得到造访，最遥远的独立的事物因为复杂的精神上的联系聚在一起。我们得知，物质世界的博大是相对的，所有事物都能缩小或变大来服务于诗人的激情。在莎翁笔下，鸟的歌声、花的芬芳和露珠都是爱人的身影；胸膛喻义时间，它让爱人无法接近；爱人激起疑惑，那是她的饰物：

疑惑，是美的饰物，

像那欢呼划过天堂最甘甜的空气。

莎翁的激情并非一时兴起，当他对一个城市、一个国家诉说时，激情在他心中澎湃。

不，它的产生远非偶然；

虚华的赞美，不满的蹙额，

都对它毫无影响；

它不惧政策，不怕那转瞬即逝的

异教徒，

它是那么睿智和谨慎。

他持之以恒，充满力量。在他看来，金字塔是飘渺、短暂的。青春和爱就像清晨，使他眩晕：

将那双唇移开

放弃它们的甜蜜誓言已经许下；

还有那双眼，它们的光芒划破黎明，

让清晨迷失方向。

我或许可以顺便评论一下，这个比喻的奇美恐怕在文学中很难超越了。

莎翁的激情改变万物，伟岸变成低矮，渺小变得伟大。这样的例子数不胜数。我这里只引《暴风雨》中的几句。

阿里尔：牢固的海角

被我撼动，冲动之下我连根拔起

雪松和青松。

普罗斯珀罗诉诸音乐来安慰发狂的阿隆佐和他的同伴：

神圣的氛围，疯狂幻想最好的慰藉

为你们的头脑疗伤

它如今已在你们的身体里燃烧，再无效用。

此外：

魔力迅速消退，

当白昼尾随黑夜，

溶化黑暗，他们的感官

开始追逐那遮敝理性的

无知的迷雾。

他们的感性认识

开始膨胀：即将成为潮水

迅速填满已经变得肮脏泥泞的

理性的海岸

莎翁对于事件之间真实联系（真实存在的理念上的联系）的认识，使他可以得心应手地处理世界那壮观的形态和表象，肯定精神的主宰地位。

三、诗人用思想让自然灵动起来。他与哲学家的唯一不同在于，前者以美为最终诉求；后者视真理为最终目标。然而，与诗人一样，哲学家将事物之间显而易见的秩序和关系归诸思想的王国。柏拉图如是说，“哲学的问题在于，为一切有条件的存在，找到一个无条件的绝对基础。”哲学的首要信仰是，法则决定现象，人类知晓了法则，就可预知现象。这个法则在人类头脑中出现时，即是理念。理念的美是无限的。真正的哲学家和真正的诗人是合二为一的。美是真，真是美，是二者的共同追求。柏拉图或是亚里士多德的某个定义，与索福克里斯笔下的安提格涅，难道不具有相同的魅力吗？在哲学家的定义和作家的人物中，精神融入了自然；看上去坚实的物质被思想占据、消解；脆弱的人类在灵魂的指导下，渗透自然界的万物，在万物的和谐中发现自我，掌握它们的法则。在物理学里，假如人类掌握了法则，就不必再去记忆浩繁的个体，只需一个公式就可表达人类千百年来的观察结果。

即便在物理学中，精神（法则和理念）也高于物质。天文学家、几何学者相信法则无可争辩的分析，鄙弃对物质的观察。欧拉这样描述他的拱形法则，“它与所有的经验相左，却是真理。”这一神圣的话语已将自然变成思想，徒留下物质的空壳。

四、哲学不可避免地引发人类对物质存在的怀疑。杜尔哥说过，“从未质疑过物质存在的人，不具备进行哲学探索的天赋。”哲学使我们将注意力集中在永恒、必要、未经创造的自然，即理念上；理念的存在让我们感到，外在的环境只是一场梦、一个影子。我们在众神的奥林匹斯山上等候时，就会认识到自然是精神的附属。我们升入理念的王国，明白它们就是上帝的思想。“它们与地球同在。上帝创造天堂，理念已在那里；上帝创造云朵，理念已在那里；上帝创造海洋，理念已在那里。理念在上帝旁边侍立，就像与它同生。上帝向它们寻求建议。”

理念的影响是适当的。作为哲学的对象，仅有少数人可以接近它们。但是，无论是谁，出于虔诚或是热情，都可进入理念的领域。任何人，只要触及这些神圣的自然，在某种程度上都变得神圣起来。理念就像崭新的灵魂，使肉体得到新生。我们的躯体变得敏捷又轻巧；我们在空气中行走；生活不再让人厌烦，我们再也不会生此念头。在理念宁静的陪伴下，无人惧怕暮年、不幸，或是死亡，他已脱离人生变化的司辖。我们揭开理念的面纱，直视正义和真理时，我们发现了绝对与相对的区别。我们理解了什么是绝对，就好像我们第一次存在了。人类变得永恒，因为时空只是物质关系，如若我们知晓真理，或者崇高意志的存在，它们之间不会再有任何联系。

五、最后，宗教和伦理学可以恰当地称为理念的实践，将理念引入人类生活。它们对低级文明的处理是相同的：贬低自然，强调自然对精神的依附。二者的区别在于，伦理学是源于人类的职责体系；宗教则是源于上帝的人类职责体系。宗教包含上帝的存在；伦理学则没有。在当前特定的语境下，二者是统一的，它们都将自然踏在脚下。贯穿宗教始终的教义是：“看得到的事物，都是短暂的；看不到的事物，才是永恒的。”宗教蔑视自然。宗教告诉那些未受教育的人，自然是可鄙的，就像哲学对伯克利和费而萨的教导一样。在最无知的教区里，所有教堂里回荡的话语是：“唾弃世界那毫无意义的表象。它们是虚无、梦境、影子，是不存在的。追求宗教的现实。”宗教信仰者蔑视自然。一些信仰者甚至对物质产生了敌意和愤慨，比如摩尼教徒和普罗提诺。任何时候，回想起埃及烹煮美味的大锅，他们便不再信任自己。普罗提诺甚至为自己的身体感到羞耻。简而言之，米开朗基罗对外在美的评价，可以表达他们对于物质的看法：“它是脆弱疲倦的野草，上帝用它给精神穿上外衣。”

运动、诗歌、物理学、哲学似乎都会影响我们对外在世界真实存在的信念。然而，我承认，如果对这个命题无限扩展，认为一切文明都向我们显示理念的存在，就有些不恰当了。我对自然毫无敌意，只有童稚的爱。我就像玉米和甜瓜一样，在温暖的晴日里生长。让我们公正地对待自然吧。我无意攻击我美丽的母亲，也不愿弄脏我安静的家园。我只想指出自然相对于人类的真实位置，从而以自然为参照物来确定人类的方位，这也是所有正确教导的做法，因为，人类生活想要达到的目标即是建立人与自然的联系。文明颠覆了我们对自然庸俗的看法，它让我们相信，我们以往称之为真实存在的事物只是表象，我们原以为是幻想和空想的事物才是真实的存在。当然，孩童相信外在的世界。我们认为外在世界只是一种表象，这是后来的思考。在文明的教导下，这一信念在我们的思想里生成，就像一开始就存在那样。

与传统的信仰相比，理念论的优势在于，它所展示的世界是人类头脑中最想要的。事实上，这种视角正是理性（无论是深思的哲学，还是实际的美德）的视角。哲学认为，世界永远都是表象。美德同样将世界视为头脑中思想的附属。理念论在世界中看到上帝的存在。在它看来，人物、事物、行动、事件、国家、宗教，并非一点一滴，一个一个艰难地累积成古老迟缓的历史，而是上帝在永恒的画布上绘出的巨幅图画，给精神提供思考的对象。因此，精神对宇宙的探究不会过于琐屑和微观。它尊重结果，不会让自己成为工具。它认为基督教本身要比教会史上的丑闻，或是批评的准确更重要。它对个人或是奇迹毫无兴趣，不会因历史事实的断裂而困扰，它坦然接受上帝画出的现象，认为它是这个世界纯粹而又令人敬畏的宗教形式。它不因自己运气的好坏，他人的支持或反对而或喜或悲。它没有敌人。无论是不幸还是好运，它都平静接受，认为那是上帝的教诲。它更多地是一个观察者，而非行动者。只有在观察的意义上，它才是一位行动者。

七

精　神

关于自然和人类的真正理论，主要的是必然要具备某种发展性。人类在他勇敢生存的世界里，不断地以合适方式锻炼他的各种能力。这个世界源源不断地给予人类财富，它的事实无法用一句话来涵盖。自然所有的作用可以归结为一点：它赋予了人类活动无限的领域。自然的所有王国，直到事物的外延，都忠实于它的起因。自然一直都在讲述精神，它暗示了绝对存在。它是一种永恒的结果。它就像一个巨大的影子，向我们揭示身后的太阳。

自然是虔诚的。像耶稣那样，自然低头直立，双手交叉放于胸前。谁若向自然学会了信仰，谁就是最快乐的人。

关于我们称为精神的神圣存在，思考最多的人说的就会最少。在粗俗又似乎很遥远的物质现象里，我们可以看到上帝的存在。但是，当我们试图去定义和描述上帝本身时，语言和思想都变得苍白无力，我们就像傻子和野蛮人那样无助。精神无法用命题来描述，然而，如果人类在思想上信奉它，最高贵的自然业绩即是上帝的化身。上帝通过自然与人类交流，并努力使人类回归自然。

我们谈到精神时，上文提到的观点并未涵盖人类的所有关切。这里必须补充一些有关的思考。

自然向智者提出了三个问题：什么是物质？它来自何方？要去向哪方？理念论仅仅回答了第一个问题：物质是现象，不是存在。理念论让我们知道，人类存在的证据与世界存在的证据是全然不一致的。一者是完美的，另一者则无任何确定性。思想是自然万物中的一部分。世界是一个神圣的梦，如今我们从中醒来，面对真实确定而又光辉的白昼。理念论是一种假设，它解释自然的原则与木工和化学的不同。然而，如果它否定物质的存在，就无法满足精神的需求。它使上帝离我而去，使我在感官认识的宏大迷宫中漫无目的地流浪。那么，我们的内心会抗拒这种理论，因为它否定了男人和女人的真实存在，给爱设置了障碍。人类生活填满自然的各个角落，几乎所有的自然个体都浸染了人性。理念论却让自然变得陌生起来，无法解释我们与自然的血缘关系。

那么，限于我们目前的知识水平，我们姑且把理念论当作一个有用的初步假设。它使我们知晓精神与世界永恒的不同。

但是，当我们追随思想那看不见的足迹，询问物质从哪方来，要到哪方去时，许多真理从意识的深处显现出来。我们发现，人类的灵魂可知至高无上者上帝；令人敬畏的上帝并非智慧、爱、美，或力量中的某一个，而是它们的集合，一切事物因它而生，为它而存在；精神是造物主；在自然的背后，精神贯穿自然的全部；精神不是从外在的时空，而是经由我们自身向我们施加影响；因此，精神，也就是无上的天主，并非在人类的周围创设自然，而是经由人类来创设万物，就像树木的旧枝叶掉落，新枝叶在同一位置生发。正如植物根植于大地，人类栖息在上帝的怀抱。永不干涸的泉水滋养着人类，他从上帝那里得到无穷的力量。谁又能给人类的能力设限呢？一旦人类呼吸到精神的空气，获许直视正义和真理的绝对存在，人类就可进入上帝的所有思想领域，他本身就是上帝在有限世界中的存在。这一观点提醒了我智慧和力量的源泉所在，指出美德是

“打开永恒之殿的

金钥匙”

它使我通过灵魂的净化，得以创造自己的世界。这本身就是最高真理的证明。

世界与人类的肉体一样，起源于精神。它是离上帝更远的低级化身，是在无意识领域里对上帝的映射。但是，世界与人类的肉体有一个重要不同，它并不受制于人类的意志，人类无法亵渎它的神圣秩序。因此，对人类来说，世界是对上帝的现时解释。它是一个固定的参照物，我们可以此衡量与上帝的距离。随着我们一步步堕落，我们与自己的居所之间的反差就越来越明显。我们对自然有多陌生，与上帝就有多远。我们听不懂飞鸟的歌唱。狐狸和鹿逃避我们，熊和老虎噬咬人类。许多植物我们不能物尽其用，像玉米、苹果、土豆、葡萄藤等等。乡村的风景无论何时看到，都给人庄严壮丽之感，难道它不是上帝的面孔吗？然而，这也使我们发现人类与自然的不和。因为，如果有农民正在田地里辛苦劳作，你就无法尽情欣赏壮丽的风景。除非人类从他的视线里消失，诗人才不会觉得他的愉悦是荒诞可笑的。

八

未　来

当我们探究世界的法则和万物的框架时，最高的理性往往是最真实的。那些看上去可能性很小的结论却是最精练的。它之所以看上去不清晰不明确，是因为在永恒的真理中，它处于思想的最深处。经验科学常常会遮蔽人类的视线，关于函数和过程的知识恰恰使人类无法对整体进行思考。学者不再具有诗人的想象力。但是，以全部精力关注真理最博学的博物学家会发现，关于人类与世界的关系还有许多需要学习，而学习的方法并非是对已知事物的加减比较，而是精神自然生发的隽语、持续的自我恢复，以及全然的谦卑。他还会发现，人类的优秀品质不仅限于准确和绝对可靠；猜测常常比无可置疑的肯定更有用；一场梦让我们知晓的自然秘密比一百次实验还要多。

这些要解决的问题恰恰是生理学家和博物学家在表达中遗漏的。人类更需要知道的，并非动物王国中的每一个个体，而是主宰一切的统一性从何处来，要到何处去。这种统一性永远在对事物进行分类和区别，试图将千变万化的形态归结为一种。我面对层次丰富的风景，想做的不是准确复述风景中各层次的顺序和重合，却是想知道为什么所有的思绪都消失在安静的一体感中。如果不能解释事物与思想的关系，我就无法给予精微细节很高的评价；如果贝壳学、植物学、艺术不能展示花朵、贝壳、动物、建筑物的形态与思想的关系，不在理念的基础上建立科学，它们就不具有纯正哲学的光芒。在自然历史的陈列柜中，对于那些最笨重、最奇特的野兽、鱼、昆虫的形态，我们会有某种神秘的认同感和同情感。美国人在国内看到的建筑物都是按照国外的样式建造的。当他步入英国的约克大教堂，或罗马的圣彼得大教堂时，他会感到吃惊。因为他会感到，这些建筑同样是模仿物，隐约复制了某种看不见的原型。如果博物学家忽视了人类与世界奇妙的一致性，科学就不具备充分的人性。人类是世界的主人。这并不是因为人类是世界上最聪明的物种，而是因为，人类是世界的头脑和心灵，他在所有的事物中，在每一层山峦、每一条新的色彩法则、每一个天文学事实或大气的影响（它们的观察或分析都是开放的）中，都会发现自己的影子。这种神秘使诗人乔治·赫尔伯特，17世纪美妙的赞美诗作者获得灵感。以下诗句节选自他关于人类的一首小诗。

人类是完全的对称，

充满了比例，一个肢体相对另一个肢体，

一个世界相对另一个世界。

每一部分都可称呼离它最远的部分，兄弟；

因为头和脚私交颇佳，

二者都与月亮和潮汐交好。

没有哪个事物像人类那样

成功抓获并俘虏了它；

他的双眼使最高的星辰落下：

他就是缩小了的整个世界。

药草快乐地治愈我们的躯体，因为

它们是我们身体的朋友。

为了人类，风儿吹起，

地球休息，天空移动，泉水奔流；

我们看到的一切，都是为了人类，

是我们的快乐，或财富；

一切都是人类的食橱，

或者快乐的陈列柜。

星辰服侍我们睡下：

夜幕拉起窗帘；太阳将其拉开。

音乐和阳光侍奉我们的大脑。

一切事物在存在和低级意义上，

是人类肉体的朋友；在原因和高级意义上，

是人类思想的朋友。

侍奉他的奴仆，

多得超出他的想象。每条路上，

当疾病使人类变得苍白虚弱时，

一切都对他友善。

啊　伟大的爱！人类是一个世界，

另一个世界是他的仆从。

对此类真理的认识使人类对科学感兴趣。然而，对工具的关注使人类无法看到目标。因为科学有限的视野，我们接受柏拉图的结论：“诗歌比历史更接近于真理。”思想的每一个推测和预言都应受到尊重。比起做过整理都无任何宝贵建议的体系，我们更愿意接受不完美的理论和可以瞥见真理身影的语句。聪明的作者会发现，研究和创作最好的目标是宣布未经发现的思想领域，并通过希望，向迟钝的精神传达新的活动。

因此，我愿意以一些关于人与自然的传统概念来结束本文，一位诗人向我吟诵过。它们一直存在于这个世界，或许每位吟游诗人都会遇到。那么，它们既是历史，又是预言。

“人类的根本不在物质，而是精神。精神的元素是永恒的。所以，对于精神来说，最漫长的事件、最古老的编年史都是年轻短暂的。人类的个体繁衍生息，在这个普遍的人类循环中，世纪只是一个个点，所有的历史只是一次堕落的时代。”

“我们从内心怀疑并否认他对自然的认同。我们反复承认和否认自身与自然的关系。我们就像失去王位的尼布甲尼撒，丧失了理智，像牛一样吃草。但谁又能给精神的修复力设限呢？”

“人类是被毁坏了的上帝。人类堕落之前，生命原本可以更长，可以温和地得到永生，就像我们从梦中醒来一样。今时，如果无序和混乱持续几百年，世界将会变得疯狂暴躁。死亡和新生使这一点得到遏制。婴儿的降生是永恒的救世主，它来到堕落的人类的怀抱，乞求和他们一起回到乐园。”

“人类是自身的侏儒。一旦精神充斥他的身心，将他消解，人类之流就弥漫在自然中。太阳和月亮由此而生：男人生成太阳，女人生成月亮。人类思想的法则和行动外化成白昼与黑夜，年岁和四季。但是，自从人类给自己建造了这个巨大的安身之所，他的水流退却了，不再充满大大小小的血管和动脉，他萎缩成了一滴水。他发现，这个住所仍然适合他，但过于庞大。或者说，它曾经是大小合适的，现在却以一种远远俯视的姿态与他交流。人类羞怯地崇拜他自己的作品。如今，男人是太阳的追随者，女人是月亮的追随者。然而，人类有时从沉睡中惊醒，惊奇地打量自己和他的居所，奇怪地深思二者之间的相似之处。他意识到，如果他的法则仍然是至高无上的，如果他仍然具有元素的力量，如果他的话语本质上是纯粹的，这就并非意识的力量，并非低于而是高于人类的意志。这就是本能。”以上便是俄耳普斯诗人对我的吟唱。

今天，人类面对自然只使用了一半力量。他在世界上仅仅运用了感官认识的理解力。他动用极少的智慧来把握生活，并不是完全意义上的人。尽管他双臂强壮、消化良好，他的思想却是未开化的，是自私的野蛮人。人类与自然的关系、驾驭自然的能力是通过理解力来实现的，就像肥料，火、风、水、指南针的经济效用，蒸汽、煤、化学农业，牙医和外科医生对人体的治疗等。这种力量的恢复就像遭到放逐的国王应该一寸一寸地收复失地，而不是立即冲向他的王位。与此同时，在厚重的黑暗中，光明并非绝不存在。人类偶尔会发挥出全部的力量，不仅有理解力，还有理性。这样的例子很多：所有民族最古老的传说中流传的奇迹，耶稣的生平，宗教和政治革命、废除奴隶贸易中原则的胜利，传说中关于斯威登堡、霍恩洛厄、震教教徒的热情的奇迹，许多被归于“动物磁性说”的模糊有争议的事实，祈祷，雄辩，自我痊愈，儿童的智慧等等。在这些例子中，理性暂时掌握了权杖。理性的力量并不在时空中存在，它是瞬时的内流推动力。经院学者对人类实际力量与理性力量的区别作了有趣的比喻：人类的知识是晚上的，上帝的知识却是早晨的。

灵魂的救赎使世界回复原初永恒的美。人类在自然中看到的废墟或是空白仅仅存在于他自己的眼中。人类的视觉之轴与万物之轴并不一致，所以，它们看上去是模糊不透明的。世界缺乏统一性，破碎割裂的原因在于，人类与他自身并不统一。人类只有在满足了精神的所有需求之后，才能成为博物学家。爱与感知一样，同样是精神的需求。的确，二者相互依存，缺一不可。从词语最深的意义上来说，思想是虔诚的，虔诚即是思想。二者互为呼应。然而，在现实生活中，二者的联姻并未得到颂扬。清白无罪的人按照祖先的传统信奉上帝，可是他们对人类责任的认识并不包括应用全部的能力。有些博物学家足够耐心，却仅以冰冷的理解力来看待自然。难道祈祷不是对真理的追逐吗，不是灵魂对无限的未知领域的睿智之语吗？任何人，只要虔诚地祈祷，都会学到知识。但是，若虔诚的思想者决心切断事物与人类的一切联系，使其完全成为思考的对象，那么，他同时以最神圣的爱之火点燃了科学，上帝也将呈现全新的面貌。

当人类思想准备探究自然时，它并不需要寻找对象。智慧不变的标识即是在平凡中发现奇迹。日是什么？年是什么？夏是什么？女人是什么？孩子是什么？睡眠是什么？由于人类的失明，这些事物似乎平淡无奇。人类编造寓言，来遮蔽事实的枯燥，并像我们所称的，使它符合思想的高级法则。但是，当理念的光芒照亮事实时，花哨的寓言就褪色枯萎了，我们得以发现真正的高级法则。所以，对智慧的人来说，事实是真正的诗歌，是最美丽的寓言。这些美景就在我们的门前。你也成为一个人。男人、女人、他们的社会生活、贫穷、劳动、睡眠、恐惧、财富，你都一清二楚。要记住，它们从不肤浅，每个现象都根植于思想的能力和爱。你的理智被抽象的问题占据；自然则带来具体的问题，需要你用双手去解决。逐一比较人类的日常史实与思想中理念的产生和发展，特别是在生命的危机时刻，会是对秘密多么智慧的探索啊。

那么，让我们用新的目光来解读世界吧。臣服于受到教化的意志，自然将回答关于理智和爱的无穷质疑：什么是真理？什么是善？我的诗人这样回答：“自然是流动的，不是固定的。精神改变、塑造、创造自然。自然之所以一成不变，或低俗暴力，是因为精神的缺位。在纯粹的精神看来，自然是流动、多变、温顺的。精神给自己建造居所，居所之外是世界，世界之外是天堂。此时，你明白了世界是为你而存在的。现象为了你而完美。我们只能看到，我们是谁。亚当拥有的一切，你也有；凯撒能做到的，你也能。亚当称他的居所为天地；凯撒称自己的家为罗马。你或许会说，你的居所只是修鞋匠的店铺、百亩耕地、学者的阁楼。但是，你的领土丝毫不亚于他们，一样伟大，只是没有漂亮的名字而已。所以，构建你自己的世界吧。以最快的速度使自己的生活遵从思想的纯粹理念，它将向你展现它的宏大领域。随着精神的流入，万物会发生相应的演变。令人厌恶的现象、猪、蜘蛛、蛇、昆虫、疯人院、监狱、敌人，都很快消失了。它们只是暂时的，再也不复存在。阳光蒸发掉自然的污秽，风将其吹散，使它消失。当夏季从南方来到时，河岸的积雪就消融了，大地呈现绿色。同样，行进中的精神沿途创造自己的饰物，随身携带遇到的美景和听到的迷人歌声。它一路唤起美丽的面容、温暖的心、智慧的语言、英雄的行为，直到恶永远消失。人类对自然的主宰并非来自于观察，这个领域已经超越了人类关于上帝的梦想。就像失明的人逐渐恢复全部的视力，人类进入他的自然王国，不应有更多的惊讶。”

1836

注释

①　希腊神话中的风神。

②　希腊神话中爱和丰饶女神。

③　古希腊时期的雅典政治家（公元前402—318年）。

④　希腊神话中最伟大的英雄，宙斯与底比斯国王之女阿尔克墨涅之子，半人半神，在十二年中完成了十二项英勇业绩。

⑤　约公元前430—354年，古希腊历史学家、作家。

⑥　希腊神话中俊美而强壮的猎人，追求普勒阿德斯的七个女儿，后被狩猎女神阿尔忒弥斯所杀。

历　史

在造物主面前

无大小之分：

万物与它同源；

它无处不在。

我拥有这个星球，

拥有北斗七星和太阳年，

拥有凯撒的手和柏拉图的智慧，

还有耶稣的心灵和莎翁的禀性。

所有人类共有同一的精神，每个人都是这一精神的某个出口。一旦获得理性，人类就成为世界的自由民。柏拉图思考的，他也会思考；圣徒感受到的，他也能感受；任何人遭遇到的任何事，他都能理解。谁理解了这个精神，谁就成为过去或未来的参与者。因为，精神是唯一至高无上的原动力。

历史纪录了精神的作品。它的天分体现在所有时光中。人类所有历史是对人的阐释。精神从一开始就不紧不慢、从无停顿地在合适的事件中表现属于它的所有能力、思想和情感。但是，思想永远都是先于事实的；所有历史事实都是精神中预先存在的法则。每一个法则在一定情形中成为主宰，而自然每次只会赋予一个法则力量。人是所有事实的百科全书。一颗橡子生成数以千计的森林；埃及、希腊、罗马、高卢、英国、美国，已在亚当身上蕴含。一个时代接着一个时代。部落、王国、帝国、共和国、民主国家，仅仅是人类无限丰富的精神在这个无限丰富的世界中的应用。

人类精神写出了历史，历史也必须由精神来阅读。斯芬克斯必须解出她自己的谜语。如果所有的历史归结于一人，对它的阐释必须通过人的经历来进行。人类以小时计的生命与以百年计的时间存在关联。正如人类呼吸的空气来自于自然的宏大宝库，照耀人类书本的光线来自于数以亿计英里之外的某个星辰，人类身体的平衡取决于离心引力和向心引力的平衡，人类生活应由时代来教导，时代则应由人类生活来解释。每个人都是同一精神的化身，他体现了它的所有特点。个人生活的每个新事实都展示了伟人们所做的事，而个人生活的危机也体现了民族的危机。每一次革命最初只是某个人头脑中的想法，当另一个人也有同样的想法时，时代的转折点就产生了。每一次改革曾经只是某个人的观点，当他人有同样的观点时，时代的问题就得到了解决。历史叙述的事实必须与人类生活相一致，才是可信的，可理解的。我们阅读历史时，必须成为希腊人、罗马人、土耳其人、牧师和国王、烈士和刽子手；必须将这些形象与我们隐密体验中的某种事实联系起来。否则，我们什么也学不到。阿斯德鲁巴或凯撒·博尔吉亚的遭遇，跟我们的遭遇相似，都显示了精神的力量和堕落。每一个新律法和政治运动对你来说，都有意义。站在历史的铭文前，对自己说：“我那普洛透斯①的本性，就隐藏在这个面具下。”这弥补了我们与自己太过亲近的缺陷，使我们的行为变成远景。就像螃蟹、山羊、蝎子、秤和水瓶成为十二星座的标志时不再卑劣和平庸，我在遥远的历史人物，如所罗门、阿尔西比亚德斯、和喀提林身上，看到自己的邪恶而不会过于激动。

正是这种普遍的本性使个别的人和物具有了价值。蕴含这种本性的人类生活是神秘不可亵渎的。我们以惩罚和律法来确保它不被侵犯。因此，所有的法则都衍生最终的理性，都或多或少清楚表达了这种最高的无限本质的要求。物质同样把握精神，涵盖伟大的精神事实。我们最初就本能地用剑、律法、各种广泛复杂的组合形式来捍卫它。对于这个事实的模糊意识在今天已经非常明晰，表现为对权利的要求，对教育、正义、慈善的诉求；是友谊、爱、英雄主义和庄严的自立行为的基础。值得注意的是，人类总是不自觉地以一种优越的姿态阅读历史。诗人和传奇小说家在对最宏大场面（祭司、帝王的宫殿、意志或是天才的胜利）的历史叙述中，从不会让我们失去听觉，不会让我们觉得自己是闯入者，让我们感到这些叙述适合更优秀的人来读。相反，在他们最壮丽的诗篇中，我们最为舒适自在。莎士比亚对国王的所有描述，那边在角落里阅读的小男孩会认为这也是在说他自己。我们认同历史上的伟大时刻、伟大发现、伟大反抗，以及人类的繁荣富足。因为，在那些时刻，法律得以制定，海洋得到探索，新大陆被发现，甚或是受到打击，一切都是为了我们。假若我们身处那个历史时刻，我们会做同样的事，同样拍手喝彩。

我们同样关注条件和人物。我们尊重富有的人，因为他们具有外在的自由、力量、优雅，它们在我们看来是适合人类的，适合我们的。斯多葛派、东方的或是现代的作家对智慧的人的描述，都是在向读者表达自己的观念，描述他尚未实现但又能实现的自我。所有的文学作品都描述智者。书籍、纪念碑、图画、对话，都是肖像，作者从中发现他正在刻画的轮廓。沉默的人和雄辩的人都赞美他，和他打招呼。无论走到哪儿，他好像都会因为人类的喻指得到灵感。因此，真正胸怀大志的人从不需要在交谈中寻找别人的赞美。他所追求的智者，关于人物的每一句描述，每一个事实和情形（流动的河水和沙沙作响的谷物）都甜蜜地赞美他。爱从沉默的自然、山峦和天穹的光芒中流出，赞美从中生发，崇敬因之变得柔和。

这些提示，好像从睡眠和夜晚中遗落，让我们在白昼使用。学生应积极地研读历史，而不是被动地阅读；应将自己的生活视为历史的教科书，书本则是评论。如此，历史的缪斯将向他说出神谕。那些不尊重自己的人，从不会获得这样的垂青。我不认为任何人都能正确地阅读历史，都能发现，在遥远的年代里，那些名字听上去很遥远的人们所做的事情对他今日的所作所为有着深远的意义。

世界的存在是为了教导每一个人。历史上不管哪个朝代、哪种社会、哪种行为方式都与人类生活存在某种对应。任何事物都以一种奇妙的方式试图简化自己，给予人类自身的美德。人类应该看到，他本身即可经历所有的历史。他必须稳坐家中，深谙他比所有的疆域、所有的政府都要强大，而不是被国王和帝国处处欺凌；他必须将传统的读史视角从罗马、雅典、伦敦转移到他自身，坚信他就是法庭，假如英国或埃及向他提出要求，他就会审判案例；如果没有要求，就让他们永远沉默吧。他必须获得并保持高超的洞察力，只有这种洞察力才能使历史事实传达它们的秘密，诗歌和编年史同样如此。当我们对历史的符号叙述加以利用时，思想的本能、自然的目的就显露无遗了。时间使历史事实的坚硬棱角消散成发光的气体。铁锚、缆索、栅栏都无法使历史事实持续存在，保持原样。巴比伦、特洛伊、提尔、巴勒斯坦，甚至早期的罗马都已经变成了虚构。伊甸园，太阳静止在基遍，已经成为所有民族的诗歌。当我们把它当作高悬天上的星座，成为天堂永恒的标记时，谁又在乎事实是怎样的呢？伦敦、巴黎、纽约必将是同样的归宿。拿破仑说：“历史如果不是公认的寓言，还能是什么呢？”我们的这种生活被埃及、希腊、高卢、英格兰、战争、殖民、教堂、法庭和商业环绕，就会像有众多花朵和天然的饰物那样庄严和快乐。我这里不再详述。我相信永恒。我在自己的思想里发现希腊、亚洲、意大利、西班牙和群岛——每个时代、所有时代的天才和创造的原则。

在我们的个人经历中，我们总是会想到历史上的重要事实，并证实它们。所有历史变得主观起来；或者说，可能历史并不存在，存在的只是传记。每个心灵必须知道所有的教导——必须经历所有的事实。没有看到的，没有经历的，他不会知道。上个时代的人们为了操作方便概括出公式或法则，如果这个时代的人们利用法则的屏障试图证实它本身，就失去了所有的意义。在某个时候，思想必然要求通过亲身体验，来补偿丢失的意义。弗格森发现了许多天文学中早已被人知晓的事物。这对他本人再好不过了。

历史必然是这样的，否则它就一无是处。国家实施的每项法律都显示了人类本性的某个事实；这就足矣。我们自身必须看到每个事实的必然原因，明白它为何如此，又必然如此。所以，让我们来体验每一件或公共或私人的作品，伯克的演说，拿破仑的胜利，托马斯·莫尔爵士、西德尼、马默杜克·罗宾逊的殉教，法国的恐怖统治，塞拉姆巫师的绞刑，巴黎或者普罗维登斯的狂热复兴和动物磁性论。我们假设，在类似的环境中，我们会受到类似的影响，获得类似的成就。我们的目标是，与我们的同胞和先人相比，在思想上逐步达到与之相同的高度，或是经历同样的堕落。

我们对古老遗迹的探索，对金字塔、发掘出的古城、巨石阵、俄亥俄圈、墨西哥、孟斐斯的所有好奇都是为了消除荒芜野蛮又不合理的那里和那时，用这里和这时来代替。贝而佐尼在底比斯的木乃伊墓葬和金字塔遗址上不停挖掘测量，直到发现那庞大的作品与他自身已无不同。他满足地发现，无论是在总体还是细节上，墓葬和金字塔的建造者像他一样，有着同样的装备和同样的动力，换成他，也会为了同样的目标而努力。此时，问题得到了解决；贝而佐尼的思想满足地穿越寺庙、斯芬克斯、地下墓穴，而它们也在其思想中再次鲜活起来，成为现在。

一座哥特式的教堂证明，它由人类建造，又不是人类所为。当然，它是人类建造的。但是，它又并非来自人类本身。我们来思考一下它的产生历史。让我们假设自己是建造者，我们想起森林的居住者、最初产生的殿堂、对这种建筑类型的继承，以及随着国民财富的增长对殿堂的装饰；通过雕刻赋予木材价值的做法演变成后来人们对教堂所有石块的雕琢。当我们经历了这个过程，再思考天主教堂，它的十字架、音乐、队列、圣徒日，以及形象崇拜时，我们就好像是教堂的建造者，看到了它的成因，它的必然性。我们具有充分的理性。

人类个体的不同在于联系的原则。有人通过颜色和大小区分事物，有人以外表来判断，还有人凭借内在的相似性或因果关系来划分事物。理智的进步是为了超越表象的不同，对原因有更清晰的认识。在诗人、哲学家和圣人看来，一切事物都是友好神圣的，一切事件都是有益的，所有时光、所有人类都是神圣的。因为，他们的眼睛与生命紧密相连，周围的环境都渺小起来。每一种化学物质、每一株植物、每一个正在长大的动物都教导人类，原因是统一的，表象是多样的。

我们被创造一切的自然支撑和包围着，像云朵一样柔软，像空气一样流动。为什么要像顽固的老学究，夸大不多的几种形态呢？我们为什么要叙述时间、数量或数字呢？灵魂不了解它们。天才遵循自然的法则，知道如何与它们嬉戏，就像孩童在教堂玩耍，与老人做游戏。天才研究因果思想，在万物孕育之初，就发现光芒从某个中心向无限远处发散。天才在完成自然的轮回中，透过所有面具注视物质的起源。天才从苍蝇、毛虫、幼虫和卵中发现不变的个体；从无数的个体中发现固定的类；从许多类中发现属；从所有属中发现恒定的类型；从所有有序生活的王国中发现永恒的统一性。自然是一朵多变的云，在不变中有着多样的变化。她在许多不同形态中注入相同的思想，就像诗人用二十篇寓言来讲述同一个寓意。通过粗陋低俗的物质，神秘的精神使所有的事物服从它的意志。在精神面前，硬石化成柔软而又精确的形态，我注视着它，它的轮廓和质地又发生了变化。没有事物像形态那样短暂飞逝；然而，形态从不否认自身。我们仍然可以发现，人类身上残留着被认为是属于低级种族的奴役标记；但是，这些标记更突显了他的高贵和优雅。就像埃斯库罗斯笔下的伊俄②，变成了一头小牛，触犯了我们的想象力。然而，就像埃及的伊西斯女神，当伊俄遇见宙斯时，除了那额前华美闪亮的双角饰物，美丽的女人没有一丝蜕变的痕迹！

历史的同一性是本质上的，它的多样性同样显著。万物在表象上千变万化，却具有同样的因。某人的诸多行为，展现同样的性格特点！观察一下我们是如何获得古希腊人的信息的。我们有社会历史，如希罗多德、修昔底德、色诺芬、布鲁达克所记载的，详细叙述了希腊人的风俗和事迹。我们有文学，史诗、抒情诗、戏剧、哲学同样表现了希腊人的思想，是一种非常完整的形式。我们有建筑，它的美含蓄内敛，由直线和正方形构成——是希腊人建造的几何形状。我们还有雕塑，“和谐表达的语言”，各种形态做出极自由的动作，却从不僭越那完美的平静；就像在众神面前表演宗教舞蹈的信徒，尽管因抽搐而疼痛或正与别人争斗，却决不敢破坏舞蹈的队形和仪态。所以，关于希腊人，我们有来自四个方面的表现：品达的颂诗、大理石雕刻的马人、帕台农神庙的列柱、福基昂临终的行为，对于感官来说，还有什么比它们更像希腊人呢？

谁都曾注意到，一些看上去毫不相像的面孔和形态，却给人留下类似的印象。一幅画，或一首诗，以及荒山上的一条小路，即便不能唤起类似的形象，却能激发同样的情感。它们的相似之处虽在感官看来并不明显，却是神秘而超出人类理解力的。自然就是对极少数几个法则的无限组合和复制。自然以无限的变化哼唱着古老的乐曲。

自然的所有作品都充满一种神圣而又亲切的相似。在最令人想不到的地方，自然展现的相像让我们吃惊，她则以此为乐。我在森林里见到一位老酋长，他的头立刻让我想到了光秃秃的山峰，他额头上的皱纹则让我想起岩石的分层。有些人的仪态就像帕台农神庙檐壁上简单又庄严的雕刻，或是最早期希腊艺术的遗迹，有着同样的优雅和壮丽。在所有年代的书籍里，都能发现有相同特点的篇章。圭多的《罗斯皮格里奥希·奥罗拉》不就是清晨的思绪吗？画中的群马不就是清晨的云朵吗？若有人愿意花力气作一番观察，看看他在不同精神状态下愿意去做的事情，或者反感的行为，他会发现它们有多么相似。

有一位画家告诉我，除非画家在某种程度上先变成树，他才能画出一棵树来；仅仅通过端详一个孩子的外貌，画家没有办法勾画他，只有在细细观察他的举动和游戏之后，画家才能深入他的内心，随意画出他的各种姿态。鲁斯就这样“深入了绵羊最内在的本性”。我认识一位参与公共调查的制图员，他发现，如果没有人向他解释清楚岩石的地质结构，他就没办法描画它们。各种工作共同的起源都是某种思想状态。相同的是精神，不是事实。艺术家首先要通过深入的理解，而不是费力地掌握许多肢体的技巧，才能获得以行动震撼他人心灵的力量。

一直有这样的说法：“普通的灵魂通过行动创造价值，高贵的灵魂本身就是价值。”为什么？这是因为人类内心深刻的本性，是为其行动、语言、外表、仪态与雕塑艺术馆或者画廊具有的相同力量和美唤醒的。

社会史、自然史、艺术史和文学史，必须通过一个人的历史来阐释，否则，它们永远只是词语而已。一切都与人类相联系，一切都让我们好奇——王国、学院、树、马、铁鞋——万物起源于人类。圣十字教堂和圣彼得大教堂只是对某个神圣原型的拙劣复制。斯特拉斯堡大教堂只是厄文·斯泰因巴哈心灵的物质体现。真正的诗是诗人的心灵；真正的船是造船者。假如我们可以透视人类，他的所有行为的理由就纤毫毕现；就像海贝的每一根脊柱，每一种色彩都预先存在于它神秘的机体里。纹章学和骑士精神的全部都在于礼仪。举止优雅的人称呼你的名字，会赋予它贵族称号所能增添的光辉。

琐屑的日常生活总是在向我们证实一些古老的预言，将我们曾听到看到，却没有注意的词语和符号转变成万物。我曾与一位妇人一起穿过森林，她对我说，她一直觉得森林在等待，就好像居住在林间的精灵们暂停了动作，直到行人走过。这一想法在诗歌里得到表现：仙女们听到人类的脚步声，就暂停了舞蹈。如果有人在午夜看到明月在云朵中显露，他就像是上帝创造光和世界时在场的大天使。我记得夏日的一天，在田野里，我的同伴指给我看一片巨大的云彩，它与地平线平行，延长了大约四分之一英里，极像教堂里彩绘的小天使——中部是圆的，很容易发现眼睛和嘴巴的形状，两侧是伸展开的对称的翅膀。天空中出现一次的景象有可能是经常出现的。毫无疑问，这块云彩就是我们熟悉的小天使的原型。我见过天空中一连串夏日的闪电，它们立即使我想起，古希腊人描绘宙斯手中的雷电时，正是受到自然的启发。我还看到积雪沿着石墙的两侧向下滑移，很显然，它使人类发明了塔似的常见的建筑样式。

在自然原生的环境中，人类创造了建筑物新的秩序和饰物。让我们来看看每个民族如何装饰他们最初的居所。多立斯庙宇保存了多立斯人居住的木屋的特点。中国的宝塔显然是鞑靼人的帐篷。印度和埃及的寺庙仍然显露出他们祖先的墓葬特点。希伦在他的《埃塞俄比亚人研究》中说：“在岩石上建造房屋和墓穴的风俗，非常自然地形成了努比亚埃及人建筑物外形庞大的主要特点。在这些巨大的洞窟里，双眼在自然的帮助下，已经习惯了巨大的形状和体积。当艺术来帮助表现自然时，在缩小规模的同时，它不得不弱化了自己。在那些巨大的殿堂里，此前只有巨人才能看守，才能凭靠内部的立柱。那么，与这些殿堂相比，正常大小的雕像，或者整洁的走廊、侧厅会是什么样呢？”

哥特式教堂很明显来源于人类对森林中的树木及其枝桠进行的原始改造，成为或欢快或庄重的拱廊。教堂裂开的立柱周围的绑带仍然暗示将它们扎在一起的绿色枝条。无论是谁，穿过松林中的小径时，都会因松林展现出的建筑样式而震撼，特别是在冬季，其他光秃秃的树木好像撒克逊人低低的拱门。在冬日的树林里，透过交叉而又光秃的枝桠看西方天空的颜色，你立即会发现哥特式教堂里彩色玻璃窗的原型。任何一个热爱自然的人，走进牛津宏伟的古建筑和英格兰的教堂，都会感到森林主宰了建筑师的心灵，建筑师的凿子、锯、刨再现了森林中蕨类植物、花穗、槐树、榆树、橡树、松树、枞树和云杉。

哥特式教堂是在石头中盛开的花朵，服从于人类对和谐永不满足的需求。大理石块盛开成永恒的花朵，明亮、精致，具有柔和的比例和植物的美。

同样的，所有公共的事实都可个体化，所有个体的事实都可一般化。这样，历史立刻变得流动真实，传记也变得厚重神圣。波斯人的建筑物中，纤细的轴和柱模仿了荷花和棕榈树的干和花朵。波斯宫殿在它的极盛时期从未因野蛮部落的流浪状态而遗失，却从春天的埃克巴坦纳，流传至夏天的苏萨，再到冬天的巴比伦。

在亚洲和非洲的早期历史上，游牧业和农业是两种对立的事实。亚洲和非洲的地理特点使游牧生活成为必需。但另有一部分人因为土地和贸易的好处，开始建造城市。对于这部分人来说，游牧民族是可怕的威胁。正因为游牧业的威胁，农业因此成为一种宗教强制令。在晚期的文明国家英国和美国，这两种倾向仍然进行着古老的斗争，无论是民族层面还是个人层面都如此。非洲的游牧民族因为牛虻的袭击不得不流浪，牛虻会让牲畜发疯。他们不得不在雨季迁移，将牲畜驱赶到更高的沙地。亚洲的游牧民族则追逐着牧草，月月迁徙。美国和欧洲的游牧业起因于贸易和好奇心；当然，从阿斯塔布拉斯的牛虻到波斯顿湾对英国、意大利的狂热，这是一个进步。定期宗教朝圣的圣城，或严格的律法和习俗增强民族凝聚力的城市，都是对古老游牧民族的遏制；长期定居的累积效果限制了今天的游牧业。游牧业和农业两种倾向的对立在个人身上同样明显，表现为对探险的热爱和对平静生活的热爱。身体强壮思维活跃的人有快速适应环境的能力，他住在马车里，像卡尔穆克那样很容易地游遍世界。在海上、森林里、雪地上，他都能温暖入睡，食欲极佳，就像在自家烟囱旁那样快活。或许他有更高级的装备，那就是更广泛的观察力。无论新鲜的事物何时出现，他都会兴致勃勃。游牧民族是贫穷挨饿的，几乎要到绝望的边缘；这种思想上的流浪如果超出限度，就会在杂乱的事物上耗尽精力，丧失精神。另一方面，喜欢固定生活的人在他的土地上满足地发现所有生活的元素；这种生活方式有它自身的危险，如果没有外部因素的刺激，就会变得单调和退化。

一个人看到的每一个外部事物都对应于他的思想状态。一切事物都是可知的，因为，思想会引导人类发现事实所属的真理。

原初世界——德国人称为元古社会——我可以亲自去钻研，可以通过探寻墓穴、图书馆、破碎的浮雕、庄园遗迹来研究它。

希腊的历史、文学、艺术、诗歌，从荷马时期直到四五百年后雅典和斯巴达人的家庭生活，所有人都为之着迷，这种兴趣的基础是什么？原因只能是，每个人都会经历希腊时期。希腊时代崇尚身体本能和感官的完美，是精神本性与身体严格统一的时代。希腊时期的人体为雕塑家提供了赫拉克利斯、阿波罗、宙斯的原型，与现代城市街头随处可见的面孔截然不同。后者模糊不清，毫无特点。希腊时期的面孔却极为鲜明、清晰、匀称。他们从不斜视，或鬼祟地偷瞥左右，总是直视前方，这是他们眼窝的生理结构决定的。希腊时期的风俗质朴而又热烈。人们崇尚个体的优秀品质：勇气、演讲术、自律、正义、力量、敏捷、洪亮的声音、宽阔的胸膛。那时的人们不知奢侈风度为何物。因为人口稀少，物质匮乏，每个人都是自己的奴仆、厨师、屠夫、士兵，身兼数职。自给自足的习惯使希腊人拥有了卓越的才能，比如荷马笔下的阿伽门农和狄俄墨得斯。与之类似的还有色诺芬在《万人大撤退》中对自己和同胞的描述：“部队渡过亚美尼亚的特拉玻斯河后，下了许多的雪，士兵们都凄惨地倒在雪地上。色诺芬却裸身站起来，拿起斧头，开始劈柴。其他人见状，也都起身劈起柴来。”在他的部队里，言论完全自由。士兵们为战利品争吵，为每一个新命令与将军们辩论。色诺芬跟任何人一样言辞锋利，又胜过所有人。他不仅获取，同时也一样给予。有谁不认为他们是一群伟大的男子呢？与其他伟人一样，他们纪律松弛，却信守荣誉的准则。

古代悲剧，以及所有古代文学的可贵魅力在于，人物的语言质朴纯粹。人们具有极佳的感知力，却不自知。那时沉思还未成为人类头脑的主要任务。我们之所以仰慕古代，并非是喜欢旧事物，而是因为仰慕自然。希腊人不喜思考，却具有完美的感知力和最健美的躯体。成年人的举止如孩童般纯粹优美。他们制造花瓶，写作悲剧，雕刻人物，就像拥有健康感官的人都会做的，品味高雅。任何时代，只要存在健康的人类体格，花瓶、悲剧、雕塑都会持续不断地被创造出来，今天同样如此。然而，作为一个类别，希腊人的创作因为他们卓越的方式，超越了其他所有的作品。他们将成人的力量与迷人的儿童无意识融合起来。这些儿童的特点属于人类，任何经历了孩童时期的人都能理解；此外，总有一些人在成年后仍保留了童时的特点。若有人具有孩子般的天赋和天生的力量，他仍然是希腊人，重新燃起我们对希腊女神的热爱。我敬慕《菲洛克忒忒斯》中对自然的爱。读到诗人对梦境、星辰、岩石、山峦和海浪的呼语时，我感到时间像大海退潮一样流逝。我体会到人类的永恒，人类思想的同一性。似乎希腊人有着跟我相同的伙伴。我心中的太阳、月亮、水、火，同样进入希腊人的心灵。那么，过分夸大希腊人与英国人、古典学派与浪漫学派之间的区别，就显得肤浅和迂腐了。当柏拉图的思考同样进入我的脑海，点燃品达心灵的真理同样点燃了我时，时间就不存在了。当我发现，我们具有相同的感觉，我们的灵魂具有相同的色彩，就好像融为了一体时，我为什么还要量度自由的尺度？还要计数埃及的年岁？

学生通过亲身经历的骑士精神来理解历史上的骑士时代，通过自己相似的小规模经历来解读航海探险和环游世界的年代。对于神圣的世界史，他用同样的钥匙来开启。当远古时期一位预言家的声音仅仅使他回想起童年时的情感、青年时的祷告时，他就穿透了所有混乱的传统和制度的乱象，发现了真理。

稀有奇异的精神不时在人类身边现身，向我们揭示自然新的事实。我看到，上帝之子一直都行走在人群中，最普通听众的心灵和灵魂都能感受到他们的使命。很显然，三足鼎、牧师、女祭司都得到神圣灵感的启示。

耶稣震撼征服感性的人。他们无法将耶稣归为历史，也不能将其与自身妥协。当他们开始尊重制度，渴望神圣生活时，他们的虔诚就解释了一切事实，一切语言。

摩西、琐罗亚斯德、麦努、苏格拉底的信仰毫不费力地被思想吸收。我从未感到它们的遥远。它们同样是我的信仰。

我并未远涉重洋，也没有穿越百年，就认识了最早的僧侣和隐士。不止一次，他们中有人在我看来无视劳作，却拥有高高在上的思考力。他们是以上帝名义乞讨的高傲的受惠者，就像19世纪的修行者西蒙、底比斯、最早的方济各会士。

东方和西方的牧师、骑教僧侣、婆罗门、德鲁伊特教徒、印加人的影响力在个人生活中得到印证。顽固形式主义者的影响压抑幼儿的精神和勇气，麻痹他的理解力，不但没有激起愤怒，反而使他顺从和恐惧，甚至认同这种专制。这是我们常见的事实。当孩子长大后，他会发现，压迫他青春的不是别人，而是他自己。那些僧侣教徒的名字、话语、形态使孩童的他成为压制自己青春的机体。事实使他明白，巴比伦主神马尔杜克如何受到崇拜，金字塔如何建成，这要比商博良发现所有建筑工人的名字、每片砖瓦的成本来得更有意义。他在自己的家门口发现亚述和乔卢拉的土堆，他本人即是开路者。

每一个善于思考的人在反抗他所在时代的盲目崇拜时，都在重复此前改革者的道路。在追逐真理的过程中，跟前人一样，他会发现美德面临新的危险。他再次明白，要抵制盲目崇拜需要多大的精神力量。放荡紧追着改革的脚步。在人类历史上，有多少次，路德不得不哀叹虔诚在自己家庭里消失！一天，马丁·路德的妻子询问他：“老师，以前教皇在位时，我们热烈又频繁地祈祷。为什么现在我们祈祷这么少，又这么冷漠呢？”

进步的人类在文学中——在所有的寓言和所有的历史中——发现宝贵的财富。他发现，文学不是古怪的诗人描述奇异怪诞的情景，而是普通人用笔表述自己和所有人的真实告白。在字里行间，他清晰地读出关于自己的传记，而这在他出生前已经写下。在他个人的经历中，他接连遇到伊索、荷马、哈菲兹、阿里奥斯托、乔叟、司各特的每一篇寓言，并以自己的头脑和双手印证它们的真实。

古希腊的美丽寓言不是幻想的产物，是想象力的贴切创造，是普遍的真理。普罗米修斯的故事寓义何其丰富，主题何其永恒！它不仅是欧洲史的第一篇章（神话给历史事实罩上了薄薄的面纱，如机械工艺的发明、殖民地的移民），还记述了宗教的历史，在某种程度上近似后期的信仰。普罗米修斯是这个古老神话中的耶稣。他是人类的朋友；一边是永生之父上帝并不公正的“正义”，一边是终将死亡的噍类人类。他随时准备为人类承受苦难。但是，与加尔文派基督教不同，神话中的普罗米修斯是宙斯的挑战者。这体现了一种思想状态，当有神论的教义以一种粗陋客观的方式传播时，它就会出现。它似乎是人类对谎言的自我防卫，他不满于人们相信的上帝存在的事实，觉得敬畏上帝这一义务过于繁重。如果可以的话，他愿意偷走造物主的火种，脱离他，独立生活。《被缚的普罗米修斯》是一部怀疑主义的传奇。它的细节在任何时代都同样真实。诗人们说，阿波罗为阿德墨托斯看护羊群。当众神降临人间时，无人能辨识。耶稣不为人理解；苏格拉底和莎士比亚亦是。安泰俄斯③被赫拉克利斯扼杀，却在每次触及大地母亲时恢复力量。人类就是被打败了的巨人安泰俄斯，尽管他在身体上和思想上都是弱小的，却在与自然交流的习惯中获得力量。音乐和诗歌的力量松开，拍动自然的翅膀，解答俄尔斐斯的谜语。透过无穷无尽变化的形态，看到哲学上的同一，人类因此得以理解普洛透斯④。昨日欢笑哭泣、昨夜沉睡如尸体、今日又起身奔跑的我还能是谁呢？我在任何角度看到的，不是普洛透斯的转生轮回，还会是什么呢？我能用任一生物、任一事实的名字来象征表达我的思想，因为每一个生物都是人类的动因或结果。坦塔罗斯⑤对于你我来说仅仅是一个名字，意味着一直在灵魂可视范围内隐现浮动的思想之水无法饮用。灵魂的转生轮回决不是寓言。虽然我希望它只是寓言，但是世间男女仅仅在百分之五十的意义上是人类。谷仓旁、田地里、森林中、地底下、海洋中的每一个动物都极力获得一席之地，在某个或某些直立的、面向天空的人类中留下它的形态和印记。啊！兄弟，请你的灵魂不要退却，不要退入多年来你已经习以为常的形态。斯芬克斯的古老寓言在我们看来同样熟悉和贴切。据说她坐在路边，向每一个路人出谜语。如果行人答不出，她就将其活活吞下。如果行人答对了谜语，就杀死她。我们的生活不就是反复出现的斯芬克斯吗？她们形态多样，变幻无穷，无一例外地向人类灵魂提出问题。那些不具有高级智慧的人，无法解答时代的事实或问题，就成为她们的奴隶。他们被事实包围，制服，成为普通、感官的人。对事实的机械顺从，窒息了所有精神的火花，而只有它们才使他成为真正的人。但是，如果他忠实于自己更高级的本能或情感，就好像来自于更高级的物种，拒绝事实的主宰，信守灵魂，并看到事实背后的法则，那么，所有事实将温顺退却，回归原位。它们知道主人是谁，最平庸的事实也使他荣耀光辉。

在歌德塑造的人物海伦娜中，我们发现同样的寓义：每个名字都代表存在。歌德希望表达的是，这些人物，如喀戎、格里芬、弗尔克亚、海伦、利达在某种程度上的确对思想产生特定的影响。他们至今仍是永恒存在的实体，如同奥林匹亚众神时期一样真实。歌德在深入思考它们的同时，自由地挥洒幽默，在自己的想象中赋予它们实体。尽管长诗《浮士德》像梦境一样离奇飘渺，却比作者其他较大众的剧作更具吸引力。原因在于，它非常奇妙地使思想从习以为常的形象中解放出来，以狂放自由的设计、接连不断出其不意的情节，唤醒了读者的想象和创造。

普遍的自然对于渺小的诗人来说太过强大。它端坐在诗人颈部，通过诗人之手来写作。当诗人似乎只是在表达一时的奇想和虚构的故事时，最后完成的作品却是精确的寓言。柏拉图因此说：“诗人说出的伟大智慧之语，他们自身并不理解。”中世纪所有虚构的作品都以或隐蔽或欢快的方式表达了那个时代的思想要努力实现的目标。所有的魔法都是对科学力量的深远预感。最快的鞋、最锋利的剑、制服自然的元素、利用矿物的神秘特质、听懂鸟类的语言，这些都是思想沿着正确方向的模糊努力。英雄超自然的力量、永恒青春的馈赠，诸如此类，都是人类精神“改变事物表象，满足思想需求”的努力。

在《佩尔赛森林》和《高卢人阿玛迪斯》中，花环和玫瑰在忠贞的女孩头上盛开，在不忠者的额头枯萎。在《男孩与斗篷》的故事里，即便是成熟的读者也会因绅士维尼拉的胜利而吃惊地感到美德的愉悦。所有关于精灵记录的假设，如仙女不喜欢被命名，她们的礼物是多变的、不可信任的，寻宝的人不可言语，等等，不仅在康韦尔或布列塔尼的作品中存在，在康科德的作品中也不例外。

近期的传奇小说中存在寓言吗？我读过《拉马摩尔的新娘》。威廉·阿斯顿爵士是低俗诱惑的化身，锐文斯伍德城堡意味着高傲的贫穷，外国使节则是班扬笔下正直勤勉的代表。通过抵制不公和放荡，我们都可以射杀抛弃美和善的野牛。露西·阿斯顿是忠贞的另一个名字，永远美丽，又总是很容易遭遇世间的不幸。

与人类的社会史和纯正哲学史共同发展的还有外在世界的历史，人类与其有着同样紧密的联系。人类是时间的概要，是自然的关联物。他的力量在于其联系的广泛性，他的生活与整个有机和无机存在的链条密不可分。在古罗马，条条通衢从广场开始向东西南北延伸，直达帝国各省的中心。帝国首都的士兵因此可达波斯、西班牙、英国的所有通商城镇。与之类似，人类的心灵与自然万物之间有通道相连，使它们臣服于人类的主宰。人类是关系的集合，是万物之根，他的花朵和果实就是整个世界。他的能力涉及人类外在的自然，预示着他将居住的世界，就像鱼鳍预示了水的存在，还未孵化的鹰的双翅预设了空气。没有世界，人类不可能生活。将拿破仑置于孤岛的监狱，没有士兵来展现他的能力，没有阿尔卑斯山可以攀援，没有赌注可以押上，他只能与空气作战，看上去颇为愚蠢。将他送至疆域辽阔的大国，满是拥挤的人口、复杂的利益、对立的力量，你会发现受到如此束缚的拿破仑已经不再是真正的拿破仑了。这仅仅是塔尔博特的阴影；——

“他的实体不在这儿。

你看到的只是人性最小

最少的部分；

但，若框架的整体都在这儿，

它是那么宽敞高大，

你的屋檐无法容纳。”

哥伦布需要在地球上规划他的航线。牛顿和拉普拉斯需要时代的万物和布满天体的星空。有人可能说，牛顿思想的本性已经预言了引力太阳系。戴维或盖·吕萨克的思想同样如此，他们从小就开始探索粒子的吸引和排斥，预测了有机体的法则。难道人类胚胎的眼睛没有预见光的存在吗？难道亨德尔的耳朵没有预知和谐之音的魔力吗？瓦特、富尔顿、怀特莫尔、阿克赖特富有创造性的双手，难道没有预示金属易熔、坚硬、可回火的质地，石、水、木的性能吗？难道少女的可爱特质没有预示文明社会的优雅和装饰吗？这里，我们还想到人与人之间的行为。人们用多少年的时间去思考，获得的自我认知却不及热情的爱一日的教导。个人若不曾因恶行感到愤慨，不曾听到雄辩的语言，不曾在举国的欢庆或惊惧中与成千上万的人分享内心的悸动，他又怎会了解自己呢？没有人能预期自己的经历，也无法猜测新事物会揭示怎样的能力或感觉，就像他明天要初次会见的人，今天是无论如何也画不出面孔的。

我不再详细探究这种联系的起因。我们明了以下两个事实就足够了：思想是同一的；自然是它的关联物，历史是可读出可写出的。

精神因此以各种方式为它的生徒集中、重现它的财富。人类也应历经所有的循环，将自然之光集为一体。历史不再是沉闷的书籍，它将化身为每一个正直智慧的人。你不必告诉我阅读过的历史书本清单和语言，却应让我感受到你所经历的历史时期。人类应是荣誉之殿。就像诗人们所描述的，他像女神那样行走，身着的彩衣印满奇妙的事件和经历；他自己的形态和特点在诗人智慧的笔下成为五彩斑斓的内衣。在他身上，我看到前世；他的童年，我看到人类的黄金时代、知识之果、阿尔戈的探险、亚伯拉罕的呼唤、神殿的建造、耶稣的降临、黑暗时代、文艺复兴、宗教改革、新大陆的发现、新科学和新宗教的产生。人类应是畜牧神的祭司，将晨星的祝福、天堂人世有记载的所有财富带入简陋的茅舍。

这一要求是否有些自负呢？那么，我否认所写下的一切，假装知道我们并不知道的事物有什么意义？我们在强烈表达某个事实的同时，必然表现出还相信其他的事实，这是语言的缺陷。我认为人类的真实所知非常肤浅。听听墙上的老鼠，看看篱笆上的蜥蜴、脚下的蘑菇、木料上的苔藓。无论是出于同情，抑或道义，我对它们生活的世界有多少了解呢？这些生物跟高加索人一样古老，甚至年代更久远。它们在人类之外保持着自己的生活，没有留下任何互相交流的词语或者符号的迹象。书上展示了五六十种化学元素与历史年代间什么样的联系呢？不仅如此，历史记录了怎样的人类哲学呢？我们以死亡和永生之名隐藏的诸多神秘，历史又给出了怎样的解答呢？真正的历史写作需要智慧，它预知人类联系的广泛性，视事实为象征。我羞愧地发现，我们所谓的历史是多么肤浅的村庄故事啊。多少次，我们反反复复地说罗马、巴黎、君士坦丁堡！罗马知道老鼠和蜥蜴吗？奥林匹克运动会和领事馆对这些人类之外的生物有什么意义？甚至，对爱斯基摩的海豹捕猎者、划独木舟的肯纳卡人、渔夫、码头工人、搬运工，它们提供了任何食物、经验或帮助吗？

我们写作历史必须更广泛、更深刻。为此，我们需要道德改革，需要永远新鲜的可以疗伤的良知流入，才能真正表达我们居于中心又广泛联系的自然，而不是记录人类很久以来关注的自私和傲慢。这一天已经存在，人类无意中已经沐浴它的光芒。但是，科学和文学并不是通往自然的道路。理解自然所需的光芒离傻子、印第安人、儿童、未受教育的农民的儿子，比解剖学者和文物研究者更近。

1841

注释

①　希腊神话中能预知未来，并能随意改变形状的海中牧人。

②　希腊神话中河神伊那科斯的女儿，主神宙斯的情人之一。宙斯与其交欢后，为避免赫拉对其迫害，将伊娥变成了母牛。

③　希腊神话中的巨人，是大地女神盖亚和海神波塞冬的儿子，力大无穷，只要他保持与大地的接触，就可以从母亲那里持续获得无限的力量。在与赫刺克勒斯的战斗中，赫刺克勒斯发现他力量的秘密，将其举到空中使其无法从盖亚那里获取力量，最终将他扼死。

④　见第44页注释1。

⑤　希腊神话中宙斯之子，因蔑视众神被罚入地狱。他站在一池深水中，只要他饥渴难耐，弯下腰想喝水时，池水立即消退，他永远也无法喝到。

自　立

“不要在自我之外寻求自我。”

人类是自身的星辰；造就

正直完美人类的灵魂，

主宰所有的光、影响、命运；

人类经历的一切都适逢其时。

我们的行动是我们的天使，无论善恶，

是悄然走过我们身旁的命运的影子。

——博蒙特和弗莱彻所著

《诚实人的命运》后记

将婴儿置在岩石中，

使它吸吮母狼的乳头，

与鹰隼和狐狸共度冬日，

力量和速度是它的手足。

几天前，我读到一位著名画家写作的几首诗，新颖而不落俗套。这样的诗句无论是什么题材，灵魂都可以从中听到训诫。它们流露的情感比可能包含的任何思想都要宝贵。相信自己的思想，相信你心中的真情实感对于所有人都是真实的，这就是天赋。说出你潜在的信念，它会具有普遍意义；因为，内在在合适的时机就变成外在，于是人类最初的思想在最终审判的号角下再次出现。思想的声音每个人都很熟悉，我们认为摩西、柏拉图、弥尔顿最大的优点是，他们蔑视书本和传统，他们表达的不是大众，而是自己的思想。一个人需要更多地学会发现并观察来自他内心的光芒，而不是诗人和圣人光辉的思想。然而，他却在没有察觉的情况下舍弃了自己的思想，因为那是他的。在每一本天才的著作中，我们发现曾被自己否决的思想；它们带着陌生的威严再次出现在我们面前。这是伟大的艺术作品对我们最感人的教导了。它们教导我们，即使所有的声音都反对，也应心平气和地信守内心自发的感想。否则，明天会有一个陌生人，以极佳的判断力准确表述出我们一直以来的所想所感，我们就将不得不羞愧地从其他人那里接受我们自己的观点。

每个人在受教育的过程中，总会在某个时刻开始相信：忌妒是无知；模仿是自杀；无论好坏；他必须自己拿到他的那一份；尽管世界充满了善，他也必须亲自在土地上耕耘劳作才可收获滋养的谷物。实际上他内在的力量是全新的，只有在尝试过后，他才知道自己能做什么。一张面孔、一个人物、一个事实给他留下深刻印象，另一个却什么也未留下，这不是没有道理的。没有预定的和谐这种记忆中的塑像并不存在。有光线洒落的地方，目光就在那里，见证那特别的光束。我们仅仅表达了自己的一半，又因每个人阐释的神圣理念而羞愧。我们尽可以相信，这一神圣理念是合宜恰切的，它将如实地传达给我们。然而，上帝不会让懦夫来展示他的作品。一个人全心投入工作，尽力做到最好，他就是放松快乐的；但是，他说过的话、做过的事却让他不得清闲。那是一种无法实现的解救。当他试图尝试时，天赋就离他而去；没有灵感的帮助；没有创造力，没有希望。

相信你自己：每颗心都跟随那存在之链颤动。接受上苍赐予你的位置，你同时代的人，事件之间的联系。伟大的人物都会这样做，他们如孩子般向同时代的天才吐露心声，显示他们的感知：绝对真理存在于他们心中，通过他们的双手展现力量，支配他们所有的存在。我们是今天的人类，必须以最崇高的思想接受同样超验的命运；我们不是在狭小角落里受保护的未成年人和病人，不是在革命面前逃跑的懦夫，而是向导、救赎者、行善之人，遵从上帝的力量，在黑暗和混沌中前行。

大自然通过孩子、婴儿，甚至野蛮人的面孔和行为，向我们传达了多么悦耳的神谕啊！他们身上不存在使我们对情感产生怀疑的分裂反叛思想、计算推断力量，以及与我们目的相左的方法。他们的思想是完整的，他们的眼睛是不可征服的。注视他们的面孔，我们会觉得不安。婴儿不会顺从任何人，所有人都遵从他；一个婴儿通常会有四五个成人陪他咿呀说话和玩耍。所以，上帝赋予幼儿、青年、成人同样的独特趣味和魅力，使它优雅又令人羡慕，如果它要求独立，它的权利必须得到重视。不要以为幼儿无法跟你我讲话，他就没有力量。听！在隔壁的房间里，他的声音清晰有力。似乎他明白如何跟同龄人交流。无论羞怯或勇敢，他会发现如何使我们这些长者变得多余。

自信有晚餐吃的男孩子冷漠又无动于衷，像贵族那样不屑于去博取别人的好感，这是人类本性的健康态度。坐在客厅里的男孩就像剧场中的正厅后座；独立、漠然，在他的角落里观察路人和周围的事物，以男孩子快速概括的方式评价他们的优缺点，如：好的、坏的、有趣的、愚蠢的、雄辩的、讨厌的。他从不为结果和利益所累，他给出独立真实的判断。你必须追求他，他不会向你献殷勤。但是人类好像被自己的意识关进了监牢。一旦他的行动或语言获得荣誉，他就担负了责任。成百上千的人注视着他，或同情或憎恨，他们的情感他必须考虑。这一点他无法忘却。啊，他可以再次回复他的中立！避开所有的誓言，再次以同样真挚、公正、不可贿赂、无所畏惧的纯真来评价事物，就像他评价过的那样，可以做到这样的人永远令人钦佩。他对所有经历的事件做出评价，它们不是私密的，却是必要的，像箭一样射入人类的耳中，使他们心生敬畏。

我们独自一人时，会听到这样的声音，但若我们进入人类社会，它们就变得微弱起来，无法听到。社会总是与每个成年人作对。它就像一个股份合作公司，为了更好地保证持股人的利益，牺牲了所有成员的自由和文化。社会要求的一大美德即是顺从，自立是它的反面。社会不喜事实和创造者，却爱名号和惯例。

一个真正的人，必须做到不墨守成规。采摘永恒棕榈树的人，不可被女神的名字吓阻，却应该探究一下它是否真女神。最终，只有你自己的完整思想才是神圣的。宽恕你自己，你将获得世界的决定权。我记得很年轻时，一位重要的导师习惯于强求我学习宗教的古老教义，我忍不住反问他：“假如我完全听从内心来生活，这些神圣的传统与我有什么关系呢？”我的朋友说：“这些神圣的传统或许来自人间，而非上苍。”我回答说：“它们在我看来不是这样；但假如我是撒旦之子，我将追随撒旦生活。”在我看来，除了我的本性，没有任何法则是神圣的。好和坏不过是随时可以用来指称事物的名字；唯一正确的是追随我的内心；唯一错误的是违背我的内心。一个人勇于面对所有的反对，就好像除了他，一切事物都是短暂的、有名无实的。我们屈从于徽章、名号、大的团体和僵死的制度，想到这一点我就非常羞愧。每一个体面又善于辞令的人对我的影响和掌控都超出了合理界线。我的生活理应正直而充满生气，无论用什么方法，我都应直言不讳地说出真相。假如恶意和虚荣披着慈善的外衣，应该放过它们吗？假如一个愤怒的顽固之人投身于废除奴隶制度的宏大事业，带着来自加勒比海东岸巴巴多斯的最新消息来到我面前，我难道不应对他说：“去爱你的婴儿；爱你的伐木工；要谦虚和蔼；要宽容；不要用这种对千里之外的黑人的不可思议的温柔来掩饰你冷酷、毫不仁慈的野心。你对遥远的人给予爱，却对周围的人充满怨恨。”虽然这话很刺耳，真理却比虚假的爱更漂亮。你的善良必须要有棱角，否则它什么都不是。哀鸣啜泣发生时，必须要宣讲恨的教义，来中和爱的教义。当我听到精神的呼唤时，我会避开父母妻子和兄弟。我会在门柱的楣石上写上“奇想”。当然，我希望它不仅仅是一时兴起，不过我们不能花费一天的时间来解释。不要期待我会解释为什么有时寻求，有时拒绝别人的陪伴。那么，也不要像今天的某个好人，告诉我，让所有穷人过上好日子是我的义务。他们难道是我的穷人吗？我告诉你，愚蠢的博爱主义者，我舍不得给他们一块钱、一毛钱、一分钱。他们不属于我，我也不属于他们。有一类人，在精神上我是他们的奴隶；如果有需要，我愿意为他们去坐牢；但决不是你那五花八门通俗的慈善，不是对傻瓜的学院教育，不是建造毫无意义的聚会之所，不是对酒鬼的施舍，不是成百上千的救济团体。尽管我羞愧地承认，有时我会屈服而施舍一块钱，但那钱却是邪恶的，不久我就会有勇气不再施舍。

人们通常认为，美德并不多见。人类和他的美德是并行存在的。人们会做一些好事，比如英勇行为或是慈善活动，就跟他们因自己平常不参加游行而交罚款一样。他们的行为是对其生活的歉意或辩护，就像伤残之人和精神病人支付高额的膳食费一样。他们的美德是悔过。我想要的不是赎罪，而是生活。我的生活是为了生活本身，而不是供他人观看。我喜欢的生活是低调朴实的，不要华丽多变，那样它才是真实公平的。我想要的是健康甜蜜的生活，不需要节食和流血。我的要求是，你首先要证明自己是真正的人，而不是诉诸行动来说明自己。我清楚知道，是否去表现公认的优秀行为，这对于我来说没有任何区别。对于我固有的权利，却要再次付出代价来获得，这一点我无法认同。尽管我天赋不高，资质平凡，我却是真正的自己，不需要次要的证明来给自己或他人信心。

我必须要做的是与我有关的事，而非别人认为我该做什么。这一标准无论是在现实生活还是精神生活中都难以达到，却是伟大与平庸的所有区别。你总会发现有一些人，他们自认为比你自己还要清楚你的职责所在，这使得以上标准更难以实现。在这个世界上随波逐流很容易；在孤独中过自己的生活也很简单；但是，伟大的人却可以在人群中实现完美甜蜜的独处。

我之所以反对遵从已经死亡的习俗，是因为它会分散你的力量。它耗费你的时间，使人看不清你的性格。假如你信奉已经死亡的宗教，捐助毫无生命力的圣经团体，跟随一个政党投票支持或反对政府，像卑下的女佣一样摆放你的餐桌，在所有这些遮蔽之下，我很难看清你是一个怎样的人。如此“合宜”的生活也占用了你不少精力。但是，做你自己的事，我就会认识你。做自己的事，你会强化自己。人类必须明白，这种顺从的游戏不过是捉迷藏罢了。如果我知道你的派别，我就可以预测你的论点。我听到一位牧师宣布，他要讲的话题和主旨是某种宗教制度的合适与否。难道我没有预知他不可能讲出一个自然的新词吗？难道我不知道尽管他装模作样探究了一番这种制度的理由，却不会真正去做吗？难道我不知道他已经向自己承诺，只能作为牧师，而不是真正的人，采取唯一获许的视角吗？他是一位受聘律师，那些法庭的架势是最空洞的矫揉造作。然而，绝大多数人都用手绢蒙住了自己的眼睛，使自己隶属于某个舆论团体。这种循规蹈矩使他们在一些个别问题上不会犯错，他们只说几次谎言，却总是虚伪不诚实的。他们所谓的真理总不是那么真实。他们口中的二不是真正的二，四也不是真正的四。因此，他们说的每句话都让我们苦恼，不知从哪里开始纠正他们。与此同时，大自然很快就给我们配备了我们所拥护派别的囚犯制服。我们开始展现同样的面孔和体态，并逐步获得最平静的愚笨表情。这里有一个让人羞愧的特别例子，它在历史上也一直存在。我指的是“愚蠢的赞美表情”，是我们在感觉并不舒服的人群中，回应并不感兴趣的交谈时所做出的强颜欢笑。此时，我们的表情极不自然，完全由低级的僭越任性所牵动，面部轮廓变得僵硬，流露最让人讨厌的情感。

因为你的不顺从，世人不悦地向你扬起鞭子。所以，人类必须知道如何判断刻薄的面孔。旁观者在大街上、在朋友的客厅里对他侧目。如果这种反感起源于鄙视和抗拒，跟他本人一样，他大可以带着悲伤的表情回家了。但是，大众刻薄的面孔，跟他们的温柔表情一样，并无任何深刻缘由，就像风吹起、报纸指向一样随时呈现和消失。与元老院和大学师生的不满相比，大众的不满更为可怕。知晓这个世界的坚定的人可以很容易地容忍上流社会的愤怒。他们的愤怒是审慎有礼貌的，因为他们性情羞怯，本身就很脆弱。但是，当上流社会阴柔的怒气附加上民众的愤慨，无知的穷人被号召起来，存在于社会底部的无知残暴的力量开始咆哮发力时，人们就需要高尚的习惯和宗教来帮助他们像神祗那样视其为无关紧要的小事。

另一个使我们担心自信的事情是我们的一贯性，一种对我们过去言行的尊敬。因为，他人只有通过我们过去的言行才可推断我们的做事方式，而我们不愿让其失望。

但是，你为什么要时刻保持清醒呢？为什么要拖曳着死去的记忆，唯恐自己与此前公开的言行产生不一致呢？即便你前后矛盾，又如何呢？永远不要仅仅依赖你自己的记忆，甚至是纯粹记忆的行为；将过去置于当前，在几千人的注视下进行评判，每天都是新生活，这似乎才是智慧的准则。当灵魂生发虔敬的行动时，尽管它们可以赋予上帝外形和色彩，却全身心地屈服于他，在你自己的纯正哲学中，你已经否定了上帝的人性。像约瑟将外套弃在荡妇手中那样，丢掉你的理论，逃走吧。

荒谬的一贯性是凡人作弄别人的伎俩，受到庸俗的政客、哲学家、牧师的追捧。伟大的灵魂与一贯性没有任何关系，否则，他大可关注自己在墙上的影子了。坚定地说出今日所想，明天继续表达那时所感，虽然它可能与今天的看法格格不入。“啊，那你肯定要被误解的。”但，被误解有那么糟糕吗？毕达哥拉斯没有得到理解，苏格拉底、耶稣、路德、哥白尼、伽利略、牛顿，每一个纯粹智慧的灵魂无不如此。伟大的人注定得不到同时代人的理解。

我认为，没有人可以违反他的本性。就像安第斯山脉与喜马拉雅山高度的差异在地球表面上微乎其微，他所有意志的爆发都在其存在法则范围之内。无论你用何种方式判断考验他，结果不会受影响。每个人的性格就像离合体或亚历山大诗，无论是向前读，向后读，还是横着读，表达的都是同样的意义。上帝允我在宜人的林间生活中悔罪，让我逐日记录我的真实所感吧，没有预期和回顾。我不能置疑，它将会是对称平衡的，尽管这并非我的本意，也不是我的观点。我的书将有松林的气息和昆虫的嗡鸣。窗前的燕子将口中所衔的丝线或稻草织入我的文中。我们假扮着自己。性格却不受我们意志的左右表露自身。人们以为，只有外在的行为才能表现他们的美德或恶意，却没有发现，善与恶每时每刻都在散发生命的气息。

无论有多少变化，行为之间存在一致性，这样，每一个行为时刻都是诚实自然的。因为来自于同一个意志，不管看上去如何千差万别，它们却是和谐统一的。假如思想站得更高一点，离得更远一点，行为之间的不同就消失了。同一个趋势把它们统一起来。最好船只的轨迹是一百种不同方向的Z字形构成的。在足够远的距离观看，Z字都不见了，船只沿着它的航向径直前行。你某个真诚的行为会阐释自身及其他真诚的行为。循规蹈矩，你就什么也解释不了。独立行动，以及你已经独立完成的事将为现在的你辩护。伟大诉诸未来。假如我今天足够坚定去做正确的事，鄙视他人的目光，我必然已经做了足够多正确的事来为现在的我辩护。不管将来会如何，现在就行动吧。蔑视表象，一直都要这样。性格的力量是会累积的。所有过去日子的美德都有益于性格的健康。元老院和战场上的英雄何来如此的威严？是什么充斥我们的想象？是对他们身后一连串伟大的日子和胜利的意识。它们像集中的光束，照耀前进中的英雄。他就像得到天使清晰可见的引导。正是这种引导使查塔姆的声音如雷贯耳，使华盛顿港神圣庄严，使美利坚得到亚当的垂青。荣誉值得我们尊敬因它并非瞬息即逝。它永远是古时的美德。我们今天之所以膜拜它，是因为它不属于今时。我们热爱它，尊敬它，因为它不是一个诡计，却是独立自生的，也因此具有古老无瑕的血统，即使是在年轻人身上也能体现出来。

我希望，在这些日子里，我们已经最后一次听到循规蹈矩和一贯性。让这两个词见诸报端，从此变得荒唐可笑吧。舍弃就餐的铜锣，让我们听听斯巴达横笛的声音吧。让我们不再鞠躬道歉。一个大人物要来我家就餐。我不想讨好他，我希望他应该取悦于我。我支持人性，尽管我希望它是善良的，我却希望它首先是真实的。让我们直面并谴责这个时代逢迎讨好的平庸和虚伪讨厌的满足，用事实来驳斥习俗、贸易、官场。这个事实是所有历史的结论，即：只要有人类工作的地方，就有一位伟大负责任的思想者和行动者；真正的人不属于任何其他的时空，却是万物的中心。有他在的地方，就有自然。他是你、所有人、所有事件的度量。一般情况下，社会的每一个人都会让我们想起一些其他事物或其他人。性格、现实不会让你想到其他。它取代了所有的创造。人类必须做到使所有的境况变得无关紧要。每个真正的人都是一项事业、一个国家、一个时代，需要无限的空间、数量和足够的时间来实现他的计划，子孙后代则像随从一样追随他的脚步。凯撒诞生了，几十年后我们有了罗马帝国。耶稣降生了，数以百万计的民众渐渐发展为忠实于他，所以他为人类的美德和潜能感到困惑和惊讶。一个制度是某个人拉长了的影子，比如，修道院制度之于隐士梁锦松、宗教改革之于路德、贵格会教义之于乔治·福克斯、卫理公会教义之于约翰·卫斯理、废奴主义之于托马斯·克拉克森。西皮奥被弥尔顿评价为“罗马的高度”。所有的历史都很容易演变成关于一些勇敢诚实之人的传记。

让人类知晓他的价值，将万物置于脚下。让他不要偷窥或窃取，不要像孤儿院的男孩、私生子，或闯入者那样在这个为他存在的世界里上下躲藏。但是，市井之人，不具备建造高楼或雕刻大理石神像的能力，他看到这些，就会自觉谦卑。对他来说，一座宫殿、一尊雕像，或一本昂贵的书给人陌生和令人生畏的感觉，就像一辆装饰华丽的马车，似乎在问：“先生，你是谁？”然而，它们都属于他，追求他的关注，祈求他展示出自己的能力，拥有它们。风景等待我的评判，它无法命令我，我才能决定它是否应得到赞美。一个广为流传的酒鬼的寓言讲述的是，大街上一个烂醉如泥的酒鬼，被带到公爵家中，沐浴更衣后睡在公爵的床上，在他醒来后，像公爵那样得到奴仆所有谦卑的侍奉，结果，他确信自己之前曾发生精神错乱。这个故事受欢迎的原因在于，它以极佳的象征手法表现了人类的状态：人在这个世界上就像一个醉鬼，却时不时偶尔醒来，诉诸理性，发现自己是一个真正的王子。

我们的阅读是一种乞讨和奉承。在历史中，我们的想象力欺骗了我们。王国郡主、权利地位，是比平民百姓日常生活更华丽的词汇。但是，王侯和庶民经历的是相同的生活，这两个阶级的生活也是相同的。为什么要对阿尔弗雷德、斯坎德贝格、古斯塔夫如此敬仰？假如他们是高尚的，他们是否耗尽了美德呢？那时，他们闻名遐迩的事迹使其青史留名，今天，个人生活的言行同样至关重要。如果平民百姓能做到言行独立，他们将承接君王的光辉。

一直以来，君王们统治世界，吸引举国的目光。这个巨大的象征告诉我们人与人之间应有的互相尊重。人们快活地忠诚于国王、贵族，或大业主，使其按照自己的法则行事，设定自己关于人和事物的规则，推翻平民百姓的准则，以荣誉而非金钱来偿付受益，他本身即是法律的体现。这种忠诚是一种象形符号，通过它人们模糊地表明他们对自己的权利和美的意识，这也是每个人应有的权利。

我们来探究一下自信的理由，即可解释所有自立行动的魅力所在。谁是受托人？什么是可以普遍信赖的原汁原味的自我？那让科学困惑的星辰，没有视差，没有可计数的元素，即使是琐屑不洁的行为，如果有丝毫独立的色彩，它也会赋之以美丽的光辉，它的本质和力量又是什么？疑问引领我们发现最根本的缘由，它也是天赋、美德、生命的本质所在，我们称之为自发性或本能。我们将这种第一位的智慧称为直觉，而所有之后的学习都是后天所得。本能是研究所能触及的最终事实，是一切事物的共同根源。我们并不清楚，存在感在静谧的时刻如何在灵魂中涌现，它与万物、时空、光、人类并无不同，却与之同在。显然，同一个终极缘由赋予它们生命和存在。起初，我们共享万物得以存在的生命。然后，我们将万物视为自然的表象，忘记我们曾来自相同的根源。本能是行动和思想的源泉。本能是我们获得灵感的肺脏，它给予人类智慧，只有不虔敬之人和无神论者才会否认。我们被无穷的智慧环绕，获取真理，承载直觉的行动。当我们发现正义，发现真理时，这不是我们自己完成的，而是直觉通过我们显露光芒。如果我们质疑直觉从何处来，如果我们试图窥视万物之源的精神，所有的哲学都站不住脚。我们唯一能确认的是，直觉是否存在。每个人都会区分思想的自觉行动和不自觉的感知，他知道完美的信仰来自于不自觉的感知。他或许在表达这些不自觉的感知时并不准确，但他明白，它们就像白昼与黑夜一样无可置疑。我任性的行为和习得是徘徊流动的；最无聊的幻想、最微弱的乡土情感，都激起我的好奇和尊重。没有思想的人们像反驳观点一样不假思索地反对感知的表达，甚至更为急切。他们不会区分感知和观点。他们以为，我是有选择地看到了这个或是那个事物。但是，感知不是异想天开，却至关重要。如果我发现一个特征，我的孩子以后也会发现，随着时间的推移，所有人类都会发现，尽管有可能在我之前没人发现它。因为，我对它的感知就像太阳一样，是无可争辩的事实。

灵魂与上帝的联系如此纯粹，应用任何辅助的介质都是亵渎。当上帝言语时，它传达的不是一件事，而是所有事；它的声音充满这个世界；它从现时思想的中心撒播光芒、自然、时间、灵魂；时光更新，一切获得新生。无论何时，纯粹的思想获得神圣的智慧，旧事物就会消亡，方法、导师、课本、神殿不复存在；它生活在现在，将过去和未来都融入现时。一切事物因与上帝的联系变得神圣起来，并无区别。万物因其缘由消解于上帝，在这个普遍的奇迹中，个体的小奇迹都消失不见。因此，如果有人声称他知晓上帝，说上帝之言，将你带回另一个世界、另一个国家某个古老腐朽民族的用语，那么，不要相信他。橡子成熟之后是橡树，前者比后者更好吗？父母在孩子身上倾注他成熟的存在，他比孩子更好吗？那么，这种对于过去的崇拜从何而来？逝去的世纪密谋对抗灵魂的清醒和权威。时空不过是眼睛创造的生理色彩，灵魂却是光：光存在的地方，是白昼；光曾经存在的地方，是黑夜；如果历史不是关于我的存在和未来那令人愉快的寓言，它就是一种无礼和伤害。

人类羞怯又充满歉意，他的腰杆不再挺直，他不敢说“我认为”，“我是”，却要引用圣人或贤者所言。面对一叶草或盛开的玫瑰，他是羞愧的。我窗前的玫瑰花从不会提及之前的，或是更好的玫瑰。它们为自己而存在，与今时的上帝共生。对它们来说，时间并不存在，只有玫瑰，每时每刻都是完美的。叶芽绽放前，它生命的旅途已然走完，盛开的花朵、无叶的根里再无它的影子。它的本性得到满足，同时它也在一生中满足了自然。然而，人类会拖延，会记忆。他并非生活在现时，却以回溯的眼光哀悼过去，或无视身边的财富，踮着脚尖预知未来。他只有超越时间，生活在现时的自然中，才能快乐和强大。

以上所说显而易见。然而，拥有丰富智慧的人却不敢直接聆听上帝，只能经由我不认识的大卫、耶利米，或是保罗的言辞才能知晓上帝。我们不能总是认为某些文本、某些人生特别弥足珍贵。我们就像小时候死记硬背祖母和老师话语的儿童，当我们长大，成为有才能和个性的人时，我们会痛苦地回忆起说过的话；然后，我们拥有了与祖母和老师相同的视角，我们就理解了他们，希望忘掉那些学来的话，因为，无论何时，我们都可以在合适的时候同样自如地说话。如果我们真实地生活，我们就可以看得清楚明白。强者示强，就像弱者守弱一样容易。我们有了新的感知，我们就应该快活地像丢垃圾一样扔掉过去的记忆。当人类与上帝同在时，他的声音会像潺潺溪流和簌簌谷穗一样悦耳。

写到这里，我仍未触及这个话题的最高真理；或许也无法触及；因为我们所说的一切都是对直觉的遥远回忆。我尽最大努力表达的思想，就是这些。如果善在你的身边，如果你有自立的生活，那肯定不会是以某种已知的或惯常的方式；你不会察觉他人的足迹；看不到人类的面孔；听不到任何名字——生活方式、思想、善都将是全新的、陌生的。自立排斥实例和经验。你从人类那里取得方法，而不是给予他们方法。所有曾经存在的人都是自立被遗忘的牧师。自立的生活同样有恐惧和希望。希望中甚至有几分低俗。在想象的时刻人们不会有感激之情，也不会有通常的喜悦。超越激情的精神发现同一性和永恒的因果，察觉真理和权利的自我存在，知晓万物运行良好从而内心平静。广阔的自然空间、大西洋、南海，久远的时间间隔、年岁、世纪，都无足轻重。我所想所感的这些，是此前任何生活状态和环境的基础，也是我的现时生活，以及所谓生命死亡的基础。

生命本身，而非已经逝去的生命，才是有益的。力量在静止的一刻终止；它存在于从过去向新状态的转变中，存在于海湾的急流和飞向靶心的箭镞中。世界憎恨这个事实：精神永远都在变。这个事实让过去永远受到贬抑，财富变成贫穷，所有的美名变成耻辱，使圣徒和无赖同样迷惑，将耶稣和犹大一样推到旁边。那么，我们为什么要喋喋不休地说自立呢？因为精神的存在，力量不是自发力，而是使然力。讨论依赖是糟糕的外在言说方式。应该讨论的是依赖者，因为它是存在的、运动的。比我更顺从的人，尽管他不会举起自己的手指，却是我的主人。因为精神的引力，我必然围绕他转动。当我们谈及非凡的美德，我们以为那是华而不实的。但是，我们没有发现，美德是高度，如果一个人或一类人适应并接受准则，那么按照自然规律，他们必然征服驾驭所有的城市、民族，以及不接受准则的国王、富人和诗人。

这就是我们就这个话题很快触及的最终事实，跟其他任何话题一样，一切答案都归结于受到赐福的“一”。最高的因是自我存在的，它化身进入低级形态的程度各不相同，也因此成为判断善的标准。一切事物包含多少美德，就有多少真实。贸易、农牧业、狩猎、捕鲸、战争、雄辩、个人体重，在某种程度上都是自立存在的实例和不纯粹的行动，也因此引起我的尊重。在自然的守恒和增长中，我发现同样的法则在起作用。力量从本质上来说是权利的核心标准。在她的王国里，自然不允许无法自立者存在。行星的诞生和成熟、它的平衡和轨道、被强风吹弯的树木恢复原来的形态、每一个动植物的生命之源，都是自力更生、自立精神的表现。

那么，一切都归于一点：让我们不再漂泊，让我们带着以上的思想端坐家中。让我们只需声明这个神圣的事实，来震惊闯入的乌合之众、书籍、制度。命令侵入者脱掉脚上的鞋子，因为上帝在我们内心。用我们的纯粹来评判他们，我们遵从自己的法则，让这种顺从不仅表现我们固有的财富，还要体现自然的贫乏和命运。

但是，如今我们只是一群暴徒。人类并不畏惧他人，他的智慧也未得到训诫待在家中，与内心的海洋交流，却要远走他乡，从他人那里求得一杯水喝。我们必须独立行走。我喜欢礼拜开始之前寂静的教堂，胜过任何布道。被圣殿环绕的人，看上去是那么遥远，那么平静，那么纯洁！所以让我们一直端坐吧。为什么要承担我们的朋友、妻子、父亲，或孩子的过错呢？难道是因为他们与我们共享壁炉的温暖，或是人们所说的与我们同一血脉吗？所有人都流着我的血，我也流着他们的血。我不会接受他们的任性或是愚蠢，甚至不会为他们感到羞耻。然而，你的独立不可是机械的，必须是精神上的，也就是说，它必须是一种提高。每时每刻，世界似乎都在谋划强调琐事来纠缠你。朋友、客户、孩子、疾病、恐惧、贫穷、慈善，同时来敲你的门，说：“出来见我们吧。”但是你要保持你的状态，不要被它们迷惑。人们拥有的能力打扰我，我并不感兴趣。没有人可以接近我，除非我自己走过去。“我们爱自己所拥有的；但是，因为欲望，我们失去了自己的爱。”

假如我们不能马上实现神圣的顺从和信仰，至少让我们抵制住诱惑吧；让我们进入战争状态唤醒萨克逊人心中的雷神托尔和主神沃登，它们是勇气和忠诚的象征。和平年代，我们需要做的是诉说真言。制止虚伪的好客和伪善的爱。不要再按照我们与之交谈的人们的期望生活，他们要么骗人要么被骗。告诉他们：“啊父亲，啊母亲，啊妻子，啊兄弟，啊朋友，一直以来，我跟随你们生活在表象中。今后，我将过真实的生活。希望你们明白，此后我只遵从永恒的法则。我不再允诺，只会尽力而为。我会努力赡养我的父母，照顾我的家庭，做一个诚实的丈夫。但是，我会以一种全新的，从未尝试过的方式来实现。我不再遵从你的习惯，我必须是我自己。我不能再为了你们失去完整的自我。如果你们爱本色的我，我们都会更快乐。如果你们无法接受，我仍然坚持认为你们应该接受。我将不再隐藏自己的好恶。我深信，深沉的就是神圣的；不论何时，我都将听从心灵的召唤，做任何让我开心的事。如果你言行高尚，我会热爱你；如果你不是，我不会以虚伪的关切来伤害你，伤害我自己。如果你是真实的，但与我追逐的真理不同，那么，呆在你的同类中吧，我将寻找我的同伴。我这样做并不是自私，却是谦逊真诚的。无论我们在谎言中生活了多久，重拾真实的生活，对于你我、对于所有人，都是有益的。这些话在今天听起来刺耳吗？不用太久，你会爱上你我的本性诉求。如果我们追随真理的脚步，最终它会使我们更加自信、更为出色。——但是，你带给这些朋友很多痛苦。的确如此，但我无法因为他们的感情牺牲我的自由和权力。此外，所有人在探究绝对真理的时候，都会在某个时刻具备理性的力量；那时，他们将证明我是对的，会做与我相同的事。

通常认为，你对普遍标准的否认是对一切标准的否认，是一种唯信仰论；厚颜无耻的感觉主义者用哲学之名粉饰他的罪过。然而，意识的法则一直存在。我们得以免罪的忏悔只有两种。你必须以或直接或间接的方式证明自己的清白，履行自己的职责。你思考一下是否处理好了与父母、表亲、邻居、城镇、猫狗的关系，他们中的任何一个是否有理由谴责你。然而，我同样可以忽略这种间接的标准，免除自己的责任。我有自己坚定的权利要求和完美的领域。在我的领域里，许多通常被称为职责的并不是真正的责任。但是，假如我可以履行自己领域的职责，我就能摒弃普遍的准则。如果有人认为这种法则不算严厉，就让他有朝一日遵守它的戒律吧。

如果有人抛弃了人性的普遍动机，试图相信自己是真正的主人，他的内心必须具备某种神性。如果他的心灵是高尚的，意志是坚贞的，目光是明澈的，他就完全可以是自我的准则、社会和法律。一个简单的目标对于他，就像别人眼中必不可少的事物一样重要！

任何人，如果对比思考一下我们称之为社会的当前状况，就会发现上述伦理道德标准是多么必需。人类仿佛被抽空了心脏和肌腱，变成胆怯沮丧的抱怨之徒。我们惧怕真理、惧怕命运、惧怕死亡、惧怕其他人。我们这个时代没有伟大完美的人。我们需要有人给我们的生命和社会注入活力。但是，我们发现，大多数人没有这个能力，他们无法满足自己的需求，却有着远远超出自己实际力量的野心，终日所做的就是躬身乞讨。我们打理家务的方式是乞求得来的，我们的艺术、职业、婚姻、宗教并非由我们自己选择，而是社会为我们做出的选择。我们是客厅里的士兵，避开了与命运的残酷战争。然而，只有在与命运的抗争中，力量才会产生。

如果我们的年轻人在第一次创业时失败了，他们就失去了所有的信心。如果年轻的商人赔了钱，人们就说他破产了。如果最优秀的天才在大学里就读，毕业一年后还没能在波士顿或纽约城中或是郊区谋到一份差事，那么他的朋友和他自己似乎可以相信，他从此一蹶不振，在抱怨中度过余生是理所当然的了。一位来自新罕布什尔或佛蒙特的健壮小伙子，在多年间尝试了所有的职业：他组建团队，耕种农场，做买卖，办学校，做牧师，当报纸编辑，参加国会，买小镇，如此种种，这些经历自然得就像猫儿落到他脚下。他的价值要比那些在城里像玩偶一样的人高过百倍。他与他的时代并肩同行，并不因没有“专职某个行业”感到惭愧，因为他已经真正生活过，而不是将生活推延。他拥有的机会不是一次，而是百次。让一位斯多葛派的学者来挖掘人类的潜力吧，告诉人们：他们不是倾斜的柳树，能够也必须自己独立；只要人类做到相信自我，他就会具有新的力量；人类是上帝之言化身而成的肉体，生来就是要给各个民族疗伤的；他因为我们的怜悯而羞愧，当他开始独立行动，将律法、书籍、盲目崇拜、习惯扔出窗外时，我们将不再可怜他，却要感谢他尊重他。这样的老师会使人类的生命重现辉煌，他的名字也会万古流芳。

我们很容易发现，更多的自立将给人类的一切领域和所有关系带来一场革命，无论是宗教、教育、追求、生活方式、社会联系、财产，甚至是思维视角，无不如此。

第一，人类沉溺于什么样的祈祷之中啊！人们口中神圣的祈祷并没有那么勇敢和果断。它将目光投向国外，乞求用他国的事物来经历他国的美德，在无穷无尽的自然、超自然、中介和奇迹的迷宫中迷失了自我。渴求某样事物，而非真正的善，这种祈祷是邪恶的。祈祷是以最高的视角思考生活的事实，是喜悦的观察者的心灵独白。它是上帝之灵宣告其行为的完满。但是，为了私人目的进行祈祷是卑鄙的，是一种偷窃。这种祈祷预设了二元论的存在，认为自然与意识是不统一的。一旦人类与上帝成为一体，他将不再乞求，他将在一切行为中发现祈祷存在。农民在田中跪求上帝为其除草，划船者跪持船桨乞求上帝给予助力，尽管他们的要求那么卑微，却是自然听到的真实祈祷。在约翰·弗莱彻的《邦都卡》剧中，卡拉塔克被要求去探听奥德神的意图，他回答说：

他隐藏的旨意在于我们的努力；

我们的英勇是最好的神。

另一种虚假的祈祷是我们的懊悔。不满是一种自立的缺位，是意志的不坚定。如果可以帮助受难者，你尽可以去为灾难感到后悔；如果后悔无济于事，做好你自己的工作吧，此时，厄运已经渐渐过去。人们的同情同样卑劣。有人坐在那里愚蠢地痛哭，乞求别人的陪伴，我们走向他怜悯他，却没有像猛烈的电击一般告诉他真理，给予他健康，使他再次恢复自己的理性。命运的秘密是我们手中的快乐。自助的人永远受到众神和他人的欢迎。所有的大门向他敞开，所有人都跟他打招呼，所有的荣誉加冕于他，所有的目光都热切地追随他。我们爱他，拥抱他，因为他并不需要我们的爱。我们关切又歉疚地爱抚他，赞美他，因为他坚定地走自己的路，对我们的反对不屑一顾。众神关爱他，因为人类憎恨他。古波斯袄教先知琐罗亚斯特如是说：“对不屈不挠的人类来说，永生的众神来得很快。”

正如人类的祈祷是意志的病态一样，他们的信条是理智的病态。他们那些像愚蠢的以色列人那样说话：“请上帝不要同我们说话，以免我们死去。你说话吧，跟我们在一起的任何人，请说话吧，我们将听从你。”无论在哪里，我的兄弟都阻止我遇见上帝，因为他已经关闭了自己的圣殿之门，只是背诵他的兄弟，或者他的兄弟的兄弟的关于上帝的寓言。每个新思想都是一种新的分类方式。假如某人的思想具备不平凡的力量，进行不平凡的活动，就像洛克、拉瓦锡、哈顿、边沁、傅立叶，他就将自己的分类方式加于他人，看哪！那是一个全新的体系。他的自满程度与其思想的深度、触及并教导学生的事物数量成正比。但是，这一点在信条和宗教上同样明显。它们同样是一些具有强大思想的人对职责和人与至高无上的上帝关系的基本思考，比如加尔文主义、教友派、斯韦登堡论。思想的学习者快乐地将一切事物归类在新的术语里，就像刚学习了植物学的女孩发现新的土地、新的季节一样。到了某个时候，学生会发现，通过学习老师的思想，他的智力也提高了。但是，那些思想偏颇的人对信条和宗教极端崇拜，将它们视作结果，而不是很快耗尽的工具。因此，在他们眼中，信条和宗教体系的界线在遥远的地平线上与宇宙的界限融合了，天空中发光的星体似乎挂在他们老师建造的拱门之上。他们无法想象，你们这些陌生人怎么会有权利看到它们，怎么能看到它们。“肯定是你们从我们这里偷走了光。”他们却没有察觉，不属于任何体系、不可征服的光可以洒进任何一间屋子，包括他们自己的房间。就让他们叽喳片刻，将光称作他们自己的吧。如果他们是诚实的，并且学得不错，很快，他们整齐的新藩篱就会变得狭窄低矮，断裂倾斜，腐烂消失；而永恒的光，那么的青春和快乐，散发千万道光环，展现千万种色彩，将如初生之日那般在宇宙闪耀。

第二，正因为自我学习的缺位，去国外游历的迷信仍然吸引着所有受过教育的美国人。他们崇拜的对象是意大利、英国、埃及。那些为英国、意大利或者希腊赢得尊重的人们，却像地轴一样牢牢地坚守自己的家园。唯因如此，这些国家才成为人们尊重的对象。在充满英勇气概的时刻，我们感到，职责是我们的位置所在。灵魂决不是旅行者。有智慧的人守着自己的家园，无论何时，当他的职责需要他离开自己的家，或者踏上异国的土地时，他的心仍然属于自己的家。他的表情告诉人们，他是智慧和美德的传道者；他像君王一样拜访异国的城市和居民，决非闯入者或者奴仆。

人们出于艺术、学习、慈善的目的进行环球航行，我决无粗鲁的反对之意。不然，人类就首先被驯化了，不会为了求知而走出国门。而那些出于玩乐目的，或是为了获取他没有的事物而旅行的人，越来越远离自我，即便是年轻人，也在古旧的事物中老去。在底比斯和巴尔米拉，他的意志和思想变得如古城般陈旧和破败。他给废墟带来的只是陈腐和遗迹。

旅行是傻瓜的天堂。我们的初次旅途就使我们发觉了各地景色的冷漠。我在家里梦想着去那不勒斯、去罗马，以为我会被那里的美景迷醉，会忘记我的忧伤。我收拾行装，跟朋友们拥抱告别，踏上远航的船只。当我在那不勒斯醒来时，却发现这样一个冷峻的事实：我还是那个忧伤的我，没有放松，别无二致，我无法逃离自我。我参观了梵蒂冈和各处的宫殿。我假装陶醉于风景及其意境，但我事实上并无感动。无论我去哪里，自我的巨人都如影随形。

第三，但旅行的流行是一种深层病态的表征，影响所有的思想活动。思想是流浪的，我们的教育体系催生了浮躁。我们的身体被迫待在家中，思想却远游各处。我们模仿他人，而模仿不就是思想的游历吗？我们按照其他国家的喜好建造房屋；我们的书架用外国的饰品装点；我们的观点、喜好、能力都仰慕追随历史和他国。艺术无论是在何处繁荣，都是由灵魂创造的。艺术家的原型来自于自己的思想，并非他处。他将自己的思想应用于作品和周围环境，从而创造艺术。我们为何需要复制多立克或哥特的模型呢？美、舒适、伟大的思想、新奇的表达离我们绝不遥远。假如美国的艺术家怀着希望去学习，热爱他要完成的工作，考虑到美国的气候、土壤、日长、人们的需要、政府的习惯和形式，他将建造出一所适合各方面条件的房屋，人们的喜好和情感也将得到满足。

坚持做你自己，决不要模仿他人。在你一生的学习中，每时每刻你都可以表现自己的才能；但若你只是模仿他人的才能，你不过暂且拥有了它们的一半。每个人能发挥出多大的潜力，只有造物主可以告诉他。除非他表现出来，没有人会知道，也无法知道他的潜质。有谁是莎士比亚的老师？有谁教导了富兰克林、华盛顿、培根、牛顿？伟大的人都是独一无二的。西皮奥的思想恰恰是他无法从别人那里学到的。研究学习莎士比亚决不会造就另一个莎翁。做你自己应做的事，不要期望过高，不要过于无畏。此时，你的话语就如菲迪亚斯的巨凿、埃及人的镘刀、摩西或但丁的笔一样英勇壮丽，但又与它们都不相同。极丰富极雄辩的灵魂，诉说千变万化的语言，不可能屈尊重复自身。但如果你能听到这些伟人之语，自然你可以用同样的音调回复他们，因为耳与舌是本质相同的两个器官。信守你简单又高贵的生活，听从你的心灵，你将再次重现史前世界。

第四，我们的宗教、教育、艺术都以他国为典范，社会精神也不例外。所有人都用社会的进步装饰自己，却没有人真正有所进步。

社会从来不会进步。它在一方面有所发展，在另一方面就有所退化。社会不断地在变化；它依次经历了野蛮、文明、基督教化、富裕、科学的时期；但这种变化不是进步。它获得某样事物，就失去另一样事物。社会有了新的艺术，却失去了古老的本能。衣着光鲜、阅读、写作、思考的美国人，口袋里装着怀表、铅笔、支票；赤裸身体的新西兰人，他的财产不过是一根木棒、一只矛、一张草席、二十人合居的一间茅屋；二者的对比多么鲜明！然而，比较一下两人的健康状况，你会发现美国人已经失去了原住民的力量。如果那些旅行者所言不假，用阔斧击打野蛮人，过一两天，他的伤口就会愈合，就好像你击中的是柔软的田地。而这样的一击却会要了美国人的命。

文明的人类发明了马车，却舍弃了双脚的作用。他用手杖支撑自己，却失去了肌肉的力量。他拥有精致的日内瓦手表，却不知如何通过太阳来辨别时辰。他手持格林尼治航海年历，需要时就会得到信息，却不认得天空中的任何一个星球。他从不注意夏至和冬至，对春分和秋分同样所知甚少，他脑中从来就无清晰的年度日历。笔记本损害了他的记忆力；图书馆给他的才智带来重负；保险公司使事故增加；机械是不是一种阻力仍有争议；我们是不是在精致的生活中失去了力量，是不是在囿于制度和形式的基督教中失去了天然美德的活力，没有确切的答案。每一个斯多葛主义者都是真正的禁欲者，但是在基督教王国里，基督徒在哪里呢？

道德标准就像高度或体积的标准，并无什么偏离。现在的人并不比以前的人更伟大。最遥远时代与最晚近时代的伟人极其相同；19世纪的科学、艺术、宗教、哲学并不会比两千三四百年前普鲁塔克笔下的英雄教育出更伟大的人。人类不会随着时间进步。西皮奥、苏格拉底、阿那克萨哥拉、狄奥根尼都是伟人，但他们并未留下任何辨识的类别。真正与他们同类的人，人们不会用西皮奥等名字来称呼他，他是独立的自我的代表，也因此成为派系的创始人。每个时期的艺术和发明仅仅是时代的服饰，并不会焕发人类的活力。机械水平提高，其弊端可能完全抵消了它的好处。哈得森和贝林的渔船极其出色，让帕里和富兰克林深为震惊，虽然后者的设备应用了所有科学和艺术。伽利略利用观剧镜发现了更为壮丽的天体现象，后来者无人能及。哥伦布依靠没有甲板的小船发现了新大陆。令人奇怪的是，几年前或几百年前受到人们热烈欢迎的工具和机械，在一段时期之后就被弃用，消亡了。伟大的天才是回复本质的人。在科学的一次次胜利中，我们以为战争艺术也提高了。然而，拿破仑征服欧洲凭借的却是野营——依靠赤裸裸的英勇并解除一切帮助。拉斯·卡萨斯说，拿破仑相信，只有“放弃我们的武器、弹药、杂货铺、马车，效仿古罗马的习惯，让每个士兵收获他的谷物，用手磨机研磨，自己烤面包”，才能造就一支无往不胜的部队。

社会就像波浪。波浪向前移动，构成它的水却不会随之前移。水的微粒并未从波谷升到波峰。它的统一性只是一种现象。今天构成一个国家的成员可能明年就会死去，他们的经历也随之消亡。

因此，对于财产的依赖，对保护财产的政府的依赖，都是缺乏自立的表现。很久以来，人们关注的对象不是自我，而是身外之物。他们视宗教、学者、社会制度为财产的守护者，若有人冒犯它们，他们会觉得那是对财产的冒犯，从而强烈反对。他们互相尊重的标准并非他们是什么样的人，而是他们拥有什么。然而，若有教养的人开始重新尊崇他的本性，他会因财产而羞愧。当他发现财产只是一种偶然和意外，以遗产、馈赠、罪恶的方式来到他的手中时，他觉得那不是拥有；它不属于他，它的根不在他的手中；它之所以还呆在他旁边，是因为还没有革命或是强盗将它带走；他会开始憎恨它。但是，一个人的本性是与生俱来的，这种本性是具有生命力的财产。它不会因统治者的命令、暴徒、革命、烈火、风暴、破产而失去，无论是在何处，它永远都在新生。哈里发阿里说：“你的命运或生命在追逐你，所以，停止对它们的追逐吧。”我们对陌生财物的依赖，导致盲目尊崇数量。政治党派在无数次的会议上碰面；人群越来越庞大，每次宣告都引起新的喧嚣，埃塞克斯郡代表团！新罕布什尔州民主党人！缅因州自由党人！年轻的爱国者身处上千人中，而感到自己更加强大。与之类似，改革者召集大会，大批的民众一起投票和表决。啊，朋友们！上帝不会屈身降临于你，真正的路径恰恰相反。人类只有舍弃所有外部的帮助，自我独立，才是强大的成功的。每一次有新人加入他的团体，他的力量就削弱一部分。人难道不会胜过一座城池吗？不要向他人乞求，在无止境的变化中，你是唯一坚定的主体，必将很快成为周围一切事物的支柱。力量是与生俱来的，人类之所以软弱无力，是因为他在自我之外寻找善的存在。当人类认识到这一点时，他毫不犹豫地专注于自己的思想，即刻纠正自己，笔直站立，控制自己的四肢，创造出奇迹。直立者总是比倒立者强大。

所以，把握一切所谓的命运。大多数人与命运赌博，随着命运之轮的旋转，他们得到一切，又失去了一切。但是，请你不要认为这些赌博中的胜利是合法的，而要去探究原因与结果，它们才是上帝的法官。用意志去工作和获取，你就给命运之轮套上了锁链，从此可以安心就座，不再惧怕它的转动。政治上获得胜利、收了更多租金、病后身体康复、出远门的朋友归来等等使你颇为欢喜，你会觉得好日子在前面等着你。不要相信！只有你自己，才能给你安宁。只有法则的胜利，才能让你安宁。

1841

Contents

Nature

History

Self-Reliance

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Ralph Waldo Emerson

Nature

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Nature

A subtle chain of countless rings

The next unto the farthest brings;

The eye reads omens where it goes,

And speaks all languages the rose;

And, striving to be man, the worm

Mounts through all the spires of form.

INTRODUCTION

Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, and criticism. The foregoing generations beheld God and nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should not we have a poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition, and a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs? Embosomed for a season in nature, whose floods of life stream around and through us, and invite us, by the powers they supply, to action proportioned to nature, why should we grope among the dry bones of the past, or put the living generation into masquerade out of its faded wardrobe? The sun shines to-day also. There is more wool and flax in the fields. There are new lands, new men, new thoughts. Let us demand our own works and laws and worship.

Undoubtedly we have no questions to ask which are unanswerable. We must trust the perfection of the creation so far as to believe that whatever curiosity the order of things has awakened in our minds, the order of things can satisfy. Every man's condition is a solution in hieroglyphic to those inquiries he would put. He acts it as life, before he apprehends it as truth. In like manner, nature is already, in its forms and tendencies, describing its own design. Let us interrogate the great apparition that shines so peacefully around us. Let us inquire, to what end is nature?

All science has one aim, namely, to find a theory of nature. We have theories of races and of functions, but scarcely yet a remote approach to an idea of creation. We are now so far from the road to truth, that religious teachers dispute and hate each other, and speculative men are esteemed unsound and frivolous. But to a sound judgment, the most abstract truth is the most practical. Whenever a true theory appears, it will be its own evidence. Its test is, that it will explain all phenomena. Now many are thought not only unexplained but inexplicable as language, sleep, madness, dreams, beasts, sex.

Philosophically considered, the universe is composed of Nature and the Soul. Strictly speaking, therefore all that is separate from us, all which Philosophy distinguishes as the NOT ME, that is, both nature and art, all other men and my own body, must be ranked under this name, NATURE. In enumerating the values of nature and casting up their sum, I shall use the word in both senses; — in its common and in its philosophical import. In inquiries so general as our present one, the inaccuracy is not material; no confusion of thought will occur. Nature, in the common sense, refers to essences unchanged by man; space, the air, the river, the leaf. Art is applied to the mixture of his will with the same things, as in a house, a canal, a statue, a picture. But his operations taken together are so insignificant, a little chipping, baking, patching, and washing, that in an impression so grand as that of the world on the human mind, they do not vary the result.

Nature

Ⅰ

To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds will separate between him and what he touches. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.

The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence. Nature never wears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort her secret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection. Nature never became a toy to a wise spirit. The flowers, the animals, the mountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as they had delighted the simplicity of his childhood.

When we speak of nature in this manner, we have a distinct but most poetical sense in the mind. We mean the integrity of impression made by manifold natural objects. It is this which distinguishes the stick of timber of the wood-cutter from the tree of the poet. The charming landscape which I saw this morning is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet. This is the best part of these men's farms, yet to this their warranty-deeds give no title.

To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, — he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods, too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life is always a child. In the woods is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty. In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in streets or villages. In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature.

The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right.

Yet it is certain that the power to produce this delight does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessary to use these pleasures with great temperance. For nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs is overspread with melancholy to-day. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. Then there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population.

Commodity

Ⅱ

Whoever considers the final cause of the world will discern a multitude of uses that enter as parts into that result. They all admit of being thrown into one of the following classes: Commodity; Beauty; Language; and Discipline.

Under the general name of commodity, I rank all those advantages which our senses owe to nature. This, of course, is a benefit which is temporary and mediate, not ultimate, like its service to the soul. Yet although low, it is perfect in its kind, and is the only use of nature which all men apprehend. The misery of man appears like childish petulance, when we explore the steady and prodigal provision that has been made for his support and delight on this green ball which floats him through the heavens. What angels invented these splendid ornaments, these rich conveniences, this ocean of air above, this ocean of water beneath, this firmament of earth between? this zodiac of lights, this tent of dropping clouds, this striped coat of climates, this fourfold year? Beasts, fire, water, stones, and corn serve him. The field is at once his floor, his work-yard, his play-ground, his garden, and his bed.

'More servants wait on man

Than he'll take notice of.'

Nature, in its ministry to man, is not only the material, but is also the process and the result. All the parts incessantly work into each other's hands for the profit of man. The wind sows the seed; the sun evaporates the sea; the wind blows the vapor to the field; the ice, on the other side of the planet, condenses rain on this; the rain feeds the plant; the plant feeds the animal; and thus the endless circulations of the divine charity nourish man.

The useful arts are reproductions or new combinations by the wit of man, of the same natural benefactors. He no longer waits for favoring gales, but by means of steam, he realizes the fable of Æolus's bag, and carries the two and thirty winds in the boiler of his boat. To diminish friction, he paves the road with iron bars, and, mounting a coach with a ship-load of men, animals, and merchandise behind him, he darts through the country, from town to town, like an eagle or a swallow through the air. By the aggregate of these aids, how is the face of the world changed, from the era of Noah to that of Napoleon! The private poor man hath cities, ships, canals, bridges, built for him. He goes to the post-office, and the human race run on his errands; to the book-shop, and the human race read and write of all that happens, for him; to the court-house, and nations repair his wrongs. He sets his house upon the road, and the human race go forth every morning, and shovel out the snow, and cut a path for him.

But there is no need of specifying particulars in this class of uses. The catalogue is endless, and the examples so obvious, that I shall leave them to the reader's reflection, with the general remark, that this mercenary benefit is one which has respect to a farther good. A man is fed, not that he may be fed, but that he may work.

Beauty

Ⅲ

A nobler want of man is served by nature, namely, the love of Beauty.

The ancient Greeks called the world óбµο, beauty. Such is the constitution of all things, or such the plastic power of the human eye, that the primary forms, as the sky, the mountain, the tree, the animal, give us a delight in and for themselves; a pleasure arising from outline, color, motion, and grouping. This seems partly owing to the eye itself. The eye is the best of artists. By the mutual action of its structure and of the laws of light, perspective is produced, which integrates every mass of objects, of what character soever, into a well colored and shaded globe, so that where the particular objects are mean and unaffecting, the landscape which they compose is round and symmetrical. And as the eye is the best composer, so light is the first of painters. There is no object so foul that intense light will not make beautiful. And the stimulus it affords to the sense, and a sort of infinitude which it hath, like space and time, make all matter gay. Even the corpse has its own beauty. But besides this general grace diffused over nature, almost all the individual forms are agreeable to the eye, as is proved by our endless imitations of some of them, as the acorn, the grape, the pine-cone, the wheat-ear, the egg, the wings and forms of most birds, the lion's claw, the serpent, the butterfly, sea-shells, flames, clouds, buds, leaves, and the forms of many trees, as the palm.

For better consideration, we may distribute the aspects of Beauty in a threefold manner.

1. First, the simple perception of natural forms is a delight. The influence of the forms and actions in nature is so needful to man, that, in its lowest functions, it seems to lie on the confines of commodity and beauty. To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough.

But in other hours, nature satisfies by its loveliness, and without any mixture of corporeal benefit. I see the spectacle of morning from the hilltop over against my house, from daybreak to sunrise, with emotions which an angel might share. The long slender bars of cloud float like fishes in the sea of crimson light. From the earth, as a shore, I look out into that silent sea. I seem to partake its rapid transformations; the active enchantment reaches my dust, and I dilate and conspire with the morning wind. How does nature deify us with a few and cheap elements! Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous. The dawn is my Assyria; the sunset and moonrise my Paphos, and unimaginable realms of faerie; broad noon shall be my England of the senses and the understanding; the night shall be my Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams.

Not less excellent, except for our less susceptibility in the afternoon, was the charm, last evening, of a January sunset. The western clouds divided and subdivided themselves into pink flakes modulated with tints of unspeakable softness, and the air had so much life and sweetness that it was a pain to come within doors. What was it that nature would say? Was there no meaning in the live repose of the valley behind the mill, and which Homer or Shakespeare could not re-form for me in words? The leafless trees become spires of flame in the sunset, with the blue east for their background, and the stars of the dead calices of flowers, and every withered stem and stubble rimed with frost, contribute something to the mute music.

The inhabitants of cities suppose that the country landscape is pleasant only half the year. I please myself with the graces of the winter scenery, and believe that we are as much touched by it as by the genial influences of summer. To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again. The heavens change every moment, and reflect their glory or gloom on the plains beneath. The state of the crop in the surrounding farms alters the expression of the earth from week to week. The succession of native plants in the pastures and roadsides, which makes the silent clock by which time tells the summer hours, will make even the divisions of the day sensible to a keen observer. The tribes of birds and insects, like the plants punctual to their time, follow each other, and the year has room for all. By watercourses, the variety is greater. In July, the blue pontederia or pickerel-weed blooms in large beds in the shallow parts of our pleasant river, and swarms with yellow butterflies in continual motion. Art cannot rival this pomp of purple and gold. Indeed the river is a perpetual gala, and boasts each month a new ornament.

But this beauty of nature which is seen and felt as beauty, is the least part. The shows of day, the dewy morning, the rainbow, mountains, orchards in blossom, stars, moonlight, shadows in still water, and the like, if too eagerly hunted, become shows merely, and mock us with their unreality. Go out of the house to see the moon, and 't is mere tinsel; it will not please as when its light shines upon your necessary journey. The beauty that shimmers in the yellow afternoons of October, who ever could clutch it? Go forth to find it, and it is gone; 't is only a mirage as you look from the windows of diligence.

2. The presence of a higher, namely, of the spiritual element is essential to its perfection. The high and divine beauty which can be loved without effeminacy, is that which is found in combination with the human will. Beauty is the mark God sets upon virtue. Every natural action is graceful. Every heroic act is also decent, and causes the place and the bystanders to shine. We are taught by great actions that the universe is the property of every individual in it. Every rational creature has all nature for his dowry and estate. It is his, if he will. He may divest himself of it; he may creep into a corner, and abdicate his kingdom, as most men do, but he is entitled to the world by his constitution. In proportion to the energy of his thought and will, he takes up the world into himself. 'All those things for which men plough, build, or sail, obey virtue;' said Sallust. 'The winds and waves,' said Gibbon, 'are always on the side of the ablest navigators.' So are the sun and moon and all the stars of heaven. When a noble act is done, — perchance in a scene of great natural beauty; when Leonidas and his three hundred martyrs consume one day in dying, and the sun and moon come each and look at them once in the steep defile of Thermopylæ; when Arnold Winkelried, in the high Alps, under the shadow of the avalanche, gathers in his side a sheaf of Austrian spears to break the line for his comrades; are not these heroes entitled to add the beauty of the scene to the beauty of the deed? When the bark of Columbus nears the shore of America; — before it the beach lined with savages, fleeing out of all their huts of cane; the sea behind; and the purple mountains of the Indian Archipelago around, can we separate the man from the living picture? Does not the New World clothe his form with her palm-groves and savannahs as fit drapery? Ever does natural beauty steal in like air, and envelope great actions. When Sir Harry Vane was dragged up the Tower-hill, sitting on a sled, to suffer death as the champion of the English laws, one of the multitude cried out to him, 'You never sate on so glorious a seat!' Charles Ⅱ., to intimidate the citizens of London, caused the patriot Lord Russell to be drawn in an open coach through the principal streets of the city on his way to the scaffold. 'But,' his biographer says, 'the multitude imagined they saw liberty and virtue sitting by his side.' In private places, among sordid objects, an act of truth or heroism seems at once to draw to itself the sky as its temple, the sun as its candle. Nature stretches out her arms to embrace man, only let his thoughts be of equal greatness. Willingly does she follow his steps with the rose and the violet, and bend her lines of grandeur and grace to the decoration of her darling child. Only let his thoughts be of equal scope, and the frame will suit the picture. A virtuous man is in unison with her works, and makes the central figure of the visible sphere. Homer, Pindar, Socrates, Phocion, associate themselves fitly in our memory with the geography and climate of Greece. The visible heavens and earth sympathize with Jesus. And in common life whosoever has seen a person of powerful character and happy genius, will have remarked how easily he took all things along with him, — the persons, the opinions, and the day, and nature became ancillary to a man.

3. There is still another aspect under which the beauty of the world may be viewed, namely, as it becomes an object of the intellect. Beside the relation of things to virtue, they have a relation to thought. The intellect searches out the absolute order of things as they stand in the mind of God, and without the colors of affection. The intellectual and the active powers seem to succeed each other, and the exclusive activity of the one generates the exclusive activity of the other. There is something unfriendly in each to the other, but they are like the alternate periods of feeding and working in animals; each prepares and will be followed by the other. Therefore does beauty, which, in relation to actions, as we have seen, comes unsought, and comes because it is unsought, remain for the apprehension and pursuit of the intellect; and then again, in its turn, of the active power. Nothing divine dies. All good is eternally reproductive. The beauty of nature re-forms itself in the mind, and not for barren contemplation, but for new creation.

All men are in some degree impressed by the face of the world; some men even to delight. This love ofbeauty is Taste. Others have the same love in such excess, that, not content with admiring, they seek to embody it in new forms. The creation of beauty is Art.

The production of a work of art throws a light upon the mystery of humanity. A work of art is an abstract or epitome of the world. It is the result or expression of nature, in miniature. For although the works of nature are innumerable and all different, the result or the expression of them all is similar and single. Nature is a sea of forms radically alike and even unique. A leaf, a sunbeam, a landscape, the ocean, make an analogous impression on the mind. What is common to them all, — that perfectness and harmony, is beauty. The standard of beauty is the entire circuit of natural forms, — the totality of nature; which the Italians expressed by defining beauty 'il più nell' uno.' ['The many in the one']. Nothing is quite beautiful alone; nothing but is beautiful in the whole. A single object is only so far beautiful as it suggests this universal grace. The poet, the painter, the sculptor, the musician, the architect, seek each to concentrate this radiance of the world on one point, and each in his several work to satisfy the love of beauty which stimulates him to produce. Thus is Art a nature passed through the alembic of man. Thus in art does nature work through the will of a man filled with the beauty of her first works.

The world thus exists to the soul to satisfy the desire of beauty. This element I call an ultimate end. No reason can be asked or given why the soul seeks beauty. Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe. God is the all-fair. Truth, and goodness, and beauty, are but different faces of the same All. But beauty in nature is not ultimate. It is the herald of inward and eternal beauty, and is not alone a solid and satisfactory good. It must stand as a part, and not as yet the last or highest expression of the final cause of nature.

Language

Ⅳ

Language is a third use which nature subserves to man. Nature is the vehicle of thought, and in a simple, double, and three-fold degree.

1. Words are signs of natural facts.

2. Particular natural facts are symbols of particular spiritual facts.

3. Nature is the symbol of spirit.

1. Words are signs of natural facts. The use of natural history is to give us aid in supernatural history; the use of the outer creation, to give us language for the beings and changes of the inward creation. Every word which is used to express a moral or intellectual fact, if traced to its root, is found to be borrowed from some material appearance. Right means straight; wrong means twisted. Spirit primarily means wind; transgression, the crossing of a line; supercilious, the raising of the eyebrow. We say the heart to express emotion, the head to denote thought; and thought and emotion are words borrowed from sensible things, and now appropriated to spiritual nature. Most of the process by which this transformation is made, is hidden from us in the remote time when language was framed; but the same tendency may be daily observed in children. Children and savages use only nouns or names of things, which they convert into verbs, and apply to analogous mental acts.

2. But this origin of all words that convey a spiritual import, — so conspicuous a fact in the history of language, — is our least debt to nature. It is not words only that are emblematic; it is things which are emblematic. Every natural fact is a symbol of some spiritual fact. Every appearance in nature corresponds to some state of the mind, and that state of the mind can only be described by presenting that natural appearance as its picture. An enraged man is a lion, a cunning man is a fox, a firm man is a rock, a learned man is a torch. A lamb is innocence; a snake is subtle spite; flowers express to us the delicate affections. Light and darkness are our familiar expression for knowledge and ignorance; and heat for love. Visible distance behind and before us, is respectively our image of memory and hope.

Who looks upon a river in a meditative hour and is not reminded of the flux of all things? Throw a stone into the stream, and the circles that propagate themselves are the beautiful type of all influence. Man is conscious of a universal soul within or behind his individual life, wherein, as in a firmament, the natures of Justice, Truth, Love, Freedom, arise and shine. This universal soul he calls Reason: it is not mine, or thine, or his, but we are its; we are its property and men. And the blue sky in which the private earth is buried, the sky with its eternal calm, and full of everlasting orbs, is the type of Reason. That which intellectually considered we call Reason, considered in relation to nature, we call Spirit. Spirit is the Creator. Spirit hath life in itself. And man in all ages and countries embodies it in his language as the FATHER.

It is easily seen that there is nothing lucky or capricious in these analogies, but that they are constant, and pervade nature. These are not the dreams of a few poets, here and there, but man is an analogist, and studies relations in all objects. He is placed in the centre of beings, and a ray of relation passes from every other being to him. And neither can man be understood without these objects, nor these objects without man. All the facts in natural history taken by themselves, have no value, but are barren, like a single sex. But marry it to human history, and it is full of life. Whole floras, all Linnæus' and Buffon's volumes, are dry catalogues of facts; but the most trivial of these facts, the habit of a plant, the organs, or work, or noise of an insect, applied to the illustration of a fact in intellectual philosophy, or in any way associated to human nature, affects us in the most lively and agreeable manner. The seed of a plant, — to what affecting analogies in the nature of man is that little fruit made use of, in all discourse, up to the voice of Paul, who calls the human corpse a seed, — 'It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.' The motion of the earth round its axis and round the sun, makes the day and the year. These are certain amounts of brute light and heat. But is there no intent of an analogy between man's life and the seasons? And do the seasons gain no grandeur or pathos from that analogy? The instincts of the ant are very unimportant considered as the ant's; but the moment a ray of relation is seen to extend from it to man, and the little drudge is seen to be a monitor, a little body with a mighty heart, then all its habits, even that said to be recently observed, that it never sleeps, become sublime.

Because of this radical correspondence between visible things and human thoughts, savages, who have only what is necessary, converse in figures. As we go back in history, language becomes more picturesque, until its infancy, when it is all poetry; or all spiritual facts are represented by natural symbols. The same symbols are found to make the original elements of all languages. It has moreover been observed, that the idioms of all languages approach each other in passages of the greatest eloquence and power. And as this is the first language, so is it the last. This immediate dependence of language upon nature, this conversion of an outward phenomenon into a type of somewhat in human life, never loses its power to affect us. It is this which gives that piquancy to the conversation of a strong-natured farmer or backwoodsman, which all men relish.

A man's power to connect his thought with its proper symbol, and so to utter it, depends on the simplicity of his character, that is, upon his love of truth and his desire to communicate it without loss. The corruption of man is followed by the corruption of language. When simplicity of character and the sovereignty of ideas is broken up by the prevalence of secondary desires, — the desire of riches, of pleasure, of power, and of praise, — and duplicity and falsehood take place of simplicity and truth, the power over nature as an interpreter of the will is in a degree lost; new imagery ceases to be created, and old words are perverted to stand for things which are not; a paper currency is employed, when there is no bullion in the vaults. In due time the fraud is manifest, and words lose all power to stimulate the understanding or the affections. Hundreds of writers may be found in every long-civilized nation who for a short time believe and make others believe that they see and utter truths, who do not of themselves clothe one thought in its natural garment, but who feed unconsciously on the language created by the primary writers of the country, those, namely, who hold primarily on nature.

But wise men pierce this rotten diction and fasten words again to visible things; so that picturesque language is at once a commanding certificate that he who employs it is a man in alliance with truth and God. The moment our discourse rises above the ground line of familiar facts and is inflamed with passion or exalted by thought, it clothes itself in images. A man conversing in earnest, if he watch his intellectual processes, will find that a material image more or less luminous arises in his mind, contemporaneous with every thought, which furnishes the vestment of the thought. Hence, good writing and brilliant discourse are perpetual allegories. This imagery is spontaneous. It is the blending of experience with the present action of the mind. It is proper creation. It is the working of the Original Cause through the instruments he has already made.

These facts may suggest the advantage which the country-life possesses, for a powerful mind, over the artificial and curtailed life of cities. We know more from nature than we can at will communicate. Its light flows into the mind evermore, and we forget its presence. The poet, the orator, bred in the woods, whose senses have been nourished by their fair and appeasing changes, year after year, without design and without heed, — shall not lose their lesson altogether, in the roar of cities or the broil of politics. Long hereafter, amidst agitation and terror in national councils, — in the hour of revolution, — these solemn images shall reappear in their morning lustre, as fit symbols and words of the thoughts which the passing events shall awaken. At the call of a noble sentiment, again the woods wave, the pines murmur, the river rolls and shines, and the cattle low upon the mountains, as he saw and heard them in his infancy. And with these forms, the spells of persuasion, the keys of power are put into his hands.

3. We are thus assisted by natural objects in the expression of particular meanings. But how great a language to convey such pepper-corn informations! Did it need such noble races of creatures, this profusion of forms, this host of orbs in heaven, to furnish man with the dictionary and grammar of his municipal speech? Whilst we use this grand cipher to expedite the affairs of our pot and kettle, we feel that we have not yet put it to its use, neither are able. We are like travellers using the cinders of a volcano to roast their eggs. Whilst we see that it always stands ready to clothe what we would say, we cannot avoid the question whether the characters are not significant of themselves. Have mountains, and waves, and skies, no significance but what we consciously give them when we employ them as emblems of our thoughts? The world is emblematic. Parts of speech are metaphors, because the whole of nature is a metaphor of the human mind. The laws of moral nature answer to those of matter as face to face in a glass. 'The visible world and the relation of its parts, is the dial plate of the invisible.' The axioms of physics translate the laws of ethics. Thus, 'the whole is greater than its part;' 'reaction is equal to action;' 'the smallest weight may be made to lift the greatest, the difference of weight being compensated by time;' and many the like propositions, which have an ethical as well as physical sense. These propositions have a much more extensive and universal sense when applied to human life, than when confined to technical use.

In like manner, the memorable words of history and the proverbs of nations consist usually of a natural fact, selected as a picture or parable of a moral truth. Thus; A rolling stone gathers no moss; A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; A cripple in the right way will beat a racer in the wrong; Make hay while the sun shines; 'T is hard to carry a full cup even; Vinegar is the son of wine; The last ounce broke the camel's back; Long-lived trees make roots first; — and the like. In their primary sense these are trivial facts, but we repeat them for the value of their analogical import. What is true of proverbs, is true of all fables, parables, and allegories.

This relation between the mind and matter is not fancied by some poet, but stands in the will of God, and so is free to be known by all men. It appears to men, or it does not appear. When in fortunate hours we ponder this miracle, the wise man doubts if at all other times he is not blind and deaf;

'Can such things be,

And overcome us like a summer's cloud,

Without our special wonder?'

for the universe becomes transparent, and the light of higher laws than its own shines through it. It is the standing problem which has exercised the wonder and the study of every fine genius since the world began; from the era of the Egyptians and the Brahmins to that of Pythagoras, of Plato, of Bacon, of Leibnitz, of Swedenborg. There sits the Sphinx at the road-side, and from age to age, as each prophet comes by, he tries his fortune at reading her riddle. There seems to be a necessity in spirit to manifest itself in material forms; and day and night, river and storm, beast and bird, acid and alkali, pre-exist in necessary Ideas in the mind of God, and are what they are by virtue of preceding affections in the world of spirit. A Fact is the end or last issue of spirit. The visible creation is the terminus or the circumference of the invisible world. 'Material objects,' said a French philosopher, 'are necessarily kinds of scoriœ of the substantial thoughts of the Creator, which must always preserve an exact relation to their first origin; in other words, visible nature must have a spiritual and moral side.'

This doctrine is abstruse, and though the images of 'garment,' 'scoriæ,' 'mirror,' etc., may stimulate the fancy, we must summon the aid of subtler and more vital expositors to make it plain. 'Every scripture is to be interpreted by the same spirit which gave it forth,' — is the fundamental law of criticism. A life in harmony with nature, the love of truth and of virtue, will purge the eyes to understand her text. By degrees we may come to know the primitive sense of the permanent objects of nature, so that the world shall be to us an open book, and every form significant of its hidden life and final cause.

A new interest surprises us, whilst, under the view now suggested, we contemplate the fearful extent and multitude of objects; since 'every object rightly seen, unlocks a new faculty of the soul.' That which was unconscious truth, becomes, when interpreted and defined in an object, a part of the domain of knowledge, — a new weapon in the magazine of power.

Discipline

Ⅴ

In view of the significance of nature, we arrive at once at a new fact, that nature is a discipline. This use of the world includes the preceding uses, as parts of itself.

Space, time, society, labor, climate, food, locomotion, the animals, the mechanical forces, give us sincerest lessons, day by day, whose meaning is unlimited. They educate both the Understanding and the Reason. Every property of matter is a school for the understanding, — its solidity or resistance, its inertia, its extension, its figure, its divisibility. The understanding adds, divides, combines, measures, and finds nutriment and room for its activity in this worthy scene. Meantime, Reason transfers all these lessons into its own world of thought, by perceiving the analogy that marries Matter and Mind.

1. Nature is a discipline of the understanding in intellectual truths. Our dealing with sensible objects is a constant exercise in the necessary lessons of difference, of likeness, of order, of being and seeming, of progressive arrangement; of ascent from particular to general; of combination to one end of manifold forces. Proportioned to the importance of the organ to be formed, is the extreme care with which its tuition is provided, — a care pretermitted in no single case. What tedious training, day after day, year after year, never ending, to form the common sense; what continual reproduction of annoyances, inconveniences, dilemmas; what rejoicing over us of little men; what disputing of prices, what reckonings of interest, — and all to form the Hand of the mind; — to instruct us that 'good thoughts are no better than good dreams, unless they be executed!'

The same good office is performed by Property and its filial systems of debt and credit. Debt, grinding debt, whose iron face the widow, the orphan, and the sons of genius fear and hate; — debt, which consumes so much time, which so cripples and disheartens a great spirit with cares that seem so base, is a preceptor whose lessons cannot be foregone, and is needed most by those who suffer from it most. Moreover, property, which has been well compared to snow, — 'if it fall level to-day, it will be blown into drifts to-morrow,' — is the surface action of internal machinery, like the index on the face of a clock. Whilst now it is the gymnastics of the understanding, it is having, in the foresight of the spirit, experience in profounder laws.

The whole character and fortune of the individual are affected by the least inequalities in the culture of the understanding; for example, in the perception of differences. Therefore is Space, and therefore Time, that man may know that things are not huddled and lumped, but sundered and individual. A bell and a plough have each their use, and neither can do the office of the other. Water is good to drink, coal to burn, wool to wear; but wool cannot be drunk, nor water spun, nor coal eaten. The wise man shows his wisdom in separation, in gradation, and his scale of creatures and of merits is as wide as nature. The foolish have no range in their scale, but suppose every man is as every other man. What is not good they call the worst, and what is not hateful, they call the best.

In like manner, what good heed nature forms in us! She pardons no mistakes. Her yea is yea, and her nay, nay.

The first steps in Agriculture, Astronomy, Zoology (those first steps which the farmer, the hunter, and the sailor take), teach that nature's dice are always loaded; that in her heaps and rubbish are concealed sure and useful results.

How calmly and genially the mind apprehends one after another the laws of physics! What noble emotions dilate the mortal as he enters into the councils of the creation, and feels by knowledge the privilege to BE! His insight refines him. The beauty of nature shines in his own breast. Man is greater that he can see this, and the universe less, because Time and Space relations vanish as laws are known.

Here again we are impressed and even daunted by the immense Universe to be explored. 'What we know is a point to what we do not know.' Open any recent journal of science, and weigh the problems suggested concerning Light, Heat, Electricity, Magnetism, Physiology, Geology, and judge whether the interest of natural science is likely to be soon exhausted.

Passing by many particulars of the discipline of nature, we must not omit to specify two.

The exercise of the Will, or the lesson of power, is taught in every event. From the child's successive possession of his several senses up to the hour when he saith, 'Thy will be done!' he is learning the secret that he can reduce under his will not only particular events but great classes, nay, the whole series of events, and so conform all facts to his character. Nature is thoroughly mediate. It is made to serve. It receives the dominion of man as meekly as the ass on which the Saviour rode. It offers all its kingdoms to man as the raw material which he may mould into what is useful. Man is never weary of working it up. He forges the subtile and delicate air into wise and melodious words, and gives them wing as angels of persuasion and command. One after another his victorious thought comes up with and reduces all things, until the world becomes at last only a realized will, — the double of the man.

2. Sensible objects conform to the premonitions of Reason and reflect the conscience. All things are moral; and in their boundless changes have an unceasing reference to spiritual nature. Therefore is nature glorious with form, color, and motion; that every globe in the remotest heaven, every chemical change from the rudest crystal up to the laws of life, every change of vegetation from the first principle of growth in the eye of a leaf, to the tropical forest and antediluvian coal-mine, every animal function from the sponge up to Hercules, shall hint or thunder to man the laws of right and wrong, and echo the Ten Commandments. Therefore is nature ever the ally of Religion: lends all her pomp and riches to the religious sentiment. Prophet and priest, David, Isaiah, Jesus, have drawn deeply from this source. This ethical character so penetrates the bone and marrow of nature, as to seem the end for which it was made. Whatever private purpose is answered by any member or part, this is its public and universal function, and is never omitted. Nothing in nature is exhausted in its first use. When a thing has served an end to the uttermost, it is wholly new for an ulterior service. In God, every end is converted into a new means. Thus the use of commodity, regarded by itself, is mean and squalid. But it is to the mind an education in the doctrine of Use, namely, that a thing is good only so far as it serves; that a conspiring of parts and efforts to the production of an end is essential to any being. The first and gross manifestation of this truth is our inevitable and hated training in values and wants, in corn and meat.

It has already been illustrated, that every natural process is a version of a moral sentence. The moral law lies at the centre of nature and radiates to the circumference. It is the pith and marrow of every substance, every relation, and every process. All things with which we deal, preach to us. What is a farm but a mute gospel? The chaff and the wheat, weeds and plants, blight, rain, insects, sun, — it is a sacred emblem from the first furrow of spring to the last stack which the snow of winter overtakes in the fields. But the sailor, the shepherd, the miner, the merchant, in their several resorts, have each an experience precisely parallel, and leading to the same conclusion: because all organizations are radically alike. Nor can it be doubted that this moral sentiment which thus scents the air, grows in the grain, and impregnates the waters of the world, is caught by man and sinks into his soul. The moral influence of nature upon every individual is that amount of truth which it illustrates to him. Who can estimate this? Who can guess how much firmness the sea-beaten rock has taught the fisherman? how much tranquillity has been reflected to man from the azure sky, over whose unspotted deeps the winds forevermore drive flocks of stormy clouds, and leave no wrinkle or stain? how much industry and providence and affection we have caught from the pantomime of brutes? What a searching preacher of self-command is the varying phenomenon of Health!

Herein is especially apprehended the unity of nature, — the unity in variety, — which meets us everywhere. All the endless variety of things make an identical impression. Xenophanes complained in his old age, that, look where he would, all things hastened back to Unity. He was weary of seeing the same entity in the tedious variety of forms. The fable of Proteus has a cordial truth. A leaf, a drop, a crystal, a moment of time, is related to the whole, and partakes of the perfection of the whole. Each particle is a microcosm, and faithfully renders the likeness of the world.

Not only resemblances exist in things whose analogy is obvious, as when we detect the type of the human hand in the flipper of the fossil saurus, but also in objects wherein there is great superficial unlikeness. Thus architecture is called 'frozen music,' by De Staël and Goethe. Vitruvius thought an architect should be a musician. 'A Gothic church,' said Coleridge, 'is a petrified religion.' Michael Angelo maintained, that, to an architect, a knowledge of anatomy is essential. In Haydn's oratorios, the notes present to the imagination not only motions, as of the snake, the stag, and the elephant, but colors also; as the green grass. The law of harmonic sounds reappears in the harmonic colors. The granite is differenced in its laws only by the more or less of heat from the river that wears it away. The river, as it flows, resembles the air that flows over it; the air resembles the light which traverses it with more subtile currents; the light resembles the heat which rides with it through Space. Each creature is only a modification of the other; the likeness in them is more than the difference, and their radical law is one and the same. A rule of one art, or a law of one organization, holds true throughout nature. So intimate is this Unity, that, it is easily seen, it lies under the undermost garment of nature, and betrays its source in Universal Spirit. For it pervades Thought also. Every universal truth which we express in words, implies or supposes every other truth. Omne verum vero consonat ['All truth accords with truth']. It is like a great circle on a sphere, comprising all possible circles; which, however, may be drawn and comprise it in like manner. Every such truth is the absolute Ens seen from one side. But it has innumerable sides.

The central Unity is still more conspicuous in actions. Words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it. An action is the perfection and publication of thought. A right action seems to fill the eye, and to be related to all nature. 'The wise man, in doing one thing, does all; or, in the one thing he does rightly, he sees the likeness of all which is done rightly.'

Words and actions are not the attributes of brute nature. They introduce us to the human form, of which all other organizations appear to be degradations. When this appears among so many that surround it, the spirit prefers it to all others. It says, 'From such as this have I drawn joy and knowledge; in such as this have I found and beheld myself; I will speak to it; it can speak again; it can yield me thought already formed and alive.' In fact, the eye, — the mind, — is always accompanied by these forms, male and female; and these are incomparably the richest informations of the power and order that lie at the heart of things. Unfortunately every one of them bears the marks as of some injury; is marred and superficially defective. Nevertheless, far different from all deaf and dumb nature around them, these all rest like fountain-pipes on the unfathomed sea of thought, and virtue whereto they alone, of all organizations, are the entrances.

It were a pleasant inquiry to follow into detail their ministry to our education, but where would it stop? We are associated in adolescent and adult life with some friends, who, like skies and waters, are coextensive with our idea; who, answering each to a certain affection of the soul, satisfy our desire on that side; whom we lack power to put at such focal distance from us, that we can mend or even analyze them. We cannot choose but love them. When much intercourse with a friend has supplied us with a standard of excellence, and has increased our respect for the resources of God who thus sends a real person to outgo our ideal; when he has, moreover, become an object of thought, and, whilst his character retains all its unconscious effect, is converted in the mind into solid and sweet wisdom, — it is a sign to us that his office is closing, and he is commonly withdrawn from our sight in a short time.

Idealism

Ⅵ

Thus is the unspeakable but intelligible and practicable meaning of the world conveyed to man, the immortal pupil, in every object of sense. To this one end of Discipline, all parts of nature conspire.

A noble doubt perpetually suggests itself, — whether this end be not the Final Cause of the Universe; and whether nature outwardly exists. It is a sufficient account of that Appearance we call the World, that God will teach a human mind, and so makes it the receiver of a certain number of congruent sensations, which we call sun and moon, man and woman, house and trade. In my utter impotence to test the authenticity of the report of my senses, to know whether the impressions they make on me correspond with outlying objects, what difference does it make, whether Orion is up there in heaven, or some god paints the image in the firmament of the soul? The relations of parts and the end of the whole remaining the same, what is the difference, whether land and sea interact, and worlds revolve and intermingle without number or end, — deep yawning under deep, and galaxy balancing galaxy, throughout absolute space, — or whether, without relations of time and space, the same appearances are inscribed in the constant faith of man? Whether nature enjoy a substantial existence without, or is only in the apocalypse of the mind, it is alike useful and alike venerable to me. Be it what it may, it is ideal to me so long as I cannot try the accuracy of my senses.

The frivolous make themselves merry with the Ideal theory, as if its consequences were burlesque; as if it affected the stability of nature. It surely does not. God never jests with us, and will not compromise the end of nature by permitting any inconsequence in its procession. Any distrust of the permanence of laws would paralyze the faculties of man. Their permanence is sacredly respected, and his faith therein is perfect. The wheels and springs of man are all set to the hypothesis of the permanence of nature. We are not built like a ship to be tossed, but like a house to stand. It is a natural consequence of this structure, that so long as the active powers predominate over the reflective, we resist with indignation any hint that nature is more short-lived or mutable than spirit. The broker, the wheelwright, the carpenter, the tollman, are much displeased at the intimation.

But whilst we acquiesce entirely in the permanence of natural laws, the question of the absolute existence of nature still remains open. It is the uniform effect of culture on the human mind, not to shake our faith in the stability of particular phenomena, as of heat, water, azote; but to lead us to regard nature as phenomenon, not a substance; to attribute necessary existence to spirit; to esteem nature as an accident and an effect.

To the senses and the unrenewed understanding, belongs a sort of instinctive belief in the absolute existence of nature. In their view man and nature are indissolubly joined. Things are ultimates, and they never look beyond their sphere. The presence of Reason mars this faith. The first effort of thought tends to relax this despotism of the senses which binds us to nature as if we were a part of it, and shows us nature aloof, and, as it were, afloat. Until this higher agency intervened, the animal eye sees, with wonderful accuracy, sharp outlines and colored surfaces. When the eye of Reason opens, to outline and surface are at once added grace and expression. These proceed from imagination and affection, and abate somewhat of the angular distinctness of objects. If the Reason be stimulated to more earnest vision, outlines and surfaces become transparent, and are no longer seen; causes and spirits are seen through them. The best moments of life are these delicious awakenings of the higher powers, and the reverential withdrawing of nature before its God.

Let us proceed to indicate the effects of culture.

1. Our first institution in the Ideal philosophy is a hint from nature herself.

Nature is made to conspire with spirit to emancipate us. Certain mechanical changes, a small alteration in our local position, apprizes us of a dualism. We are strangely affected by seeing the shore from a moving ship, from a balloon, or through the tints of an unusual sky. The least change in our point of view gives the whole world a pictorial air. A man who seldom rides, needs only to get into a coach and traverse his own town, to turn the street into a puppet-show. The men, the women, — talking, running, bartering, fighting, — the earnest mechanic, the lounger, the beggar, the boys, the dogs, are unrealized at once, or, at least, wholly detached from all relation to the observer, and seen as apparent, not substantial beings. What new thoughts are suggested by seeing a face of country quite familiar, in the rapid movement of the railroad car! Nay, the most wonted objects, (make a very slight change in the point of vision,) please us most. In a camera obscura, the butcher's cart, and the figure of one of our own family amuse us. So a portrait of a well-known face gratifies us. Turn the eyes upside down, by looking at the landscape through your legs, and how agreeable is the picture, though you have seen it any time these twenty years!

In these cases, by mechanical means, is suggested the difference between the observer and the spectacle — between man and nature. Hence arises a pleasure mixed with awe; I may say, a low degree of the sublime is felt, from the fact, probably, that man is hereby apprized that whilst the world is a spectacle, something in himself is stable.

2. In a higher manner the poet communicates the same pleasure. By a few strokes he delineates, as on air, the sun, the mountain, the camp, the city, the hero, the maiden, not different from what we know them, but only lifted from the ground and afloat before the eye. He unfixes the land and the sea, makes them revolve around the axis of his primary thought, and disposes them anew. Possessed himself by a heroic passion, he uses matter as symbols of it. The sensual man conforms thoughts to things; the poet conforms things to his thoughts. The one esteems nature as rooted and fast; the other, as fluid, and impresses his being thereon. To him, the refractory world is ductile and flexible; he invests dust and stones with humanity, and makes them the words of the Reason. The Imagination may be defined to be the use which the Reason makes of the material world. Shakspeare possesses the power of subordinating nature for the purposes of expression, beyond all poets. His imperial muse tosses the creation like a bauble from hand to hand, and uses it to embody any caprice of thought that is uppermost in his mind. The remotest spaces of nature are visited, and the farthest sundered things are brought together, by a subtile spiritual connection. We are made aware that magnitude of material things is relative, and all objects shrink and expand to serve the passion of the poet. Thus in his sonnets, the lays of birds, the scents and dyes of flowers he finds to be the shadow of his beloved; time, which keeps her from him, is his chest; the suspicion she has awakened, is her ornament;

The ornament of beauty is Suspect,

A crow which flies in heaven's sweetest air.

His passion is not the fruit of chance; it swells, as he speaks, to a city, or a state.

No, it was builded far from accident;

It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls

Under the brow of thralling discontent;

It fears not policy, that heretic,

That works on leases of short numbered hours,

But all alone stands hugely politic.

In the strength of his constancy, the Pyramids seem to him recent and transitory. The freshness of youth and love dazzles him with its resemblance to morning;

Take those lips away

Which so sweetly were forsworn;

And those eyes, — the break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn.

The wild beauty of this hyperbole, I may say in passing, it would not be easy to match in literature.

This transfiguration which all material objects undergo through the passion of the poet, — this power which he exerts to dwarf the great, to magnify the small, — might be illustrated by a thousand examples from his Plays. I have before me the Tempest, and will cite only these few lines.

ARIEL. The strong based promontory

Have I made shake, and by the spurs plucked up

The pine and cedar.

Prospero calls for music to soothe the frantic Alonzo, and his companions;

A solemn air, and the best comforter

To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains

Now useless, boiled within thy skull.

Again;

The charm dissolves apace,

And, as the morning steals upon the night,

Melting the darkness, so their rising senses

Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle

Their clearer reason.

Their understanding

Begins to swell: and the approaching tide

Will shortly fill the reasonable shores

That now lie foul and muddy.

The perception of real affinities between events (that is to say, of ideal affinities, for those only are real), enables the poet thus to make free with the most imposing forms and phenomena of the world, and to assert the predominance of the soul.

3. Whilst thus the poet animates nature with his own thoughts, he differs from the philosopher only herein, that the one proposes Beauty as his main end; the other Truth. But the philosopher, not less than the poet, postpones the apparent order and relations of things to the empire of thought. 'The problem of philosophy,' according to Plato, 'is, for all that exists conditionally, to find a ground unconditioned and absolute.' It proceeds on the faith that a law determines all phenomena, which being known, the phenomena can be predicted. That law, when in the mind, is an idea. Its beauty is infinite. The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both. Is not the charm of one of Plato's or Aristotle's definitions strictly like that of the Antigone of Sophocles? It is, in both cases, that a spiritual life has been imparted to nature; that the solid seeming block of matter has been pervaded and dissolved by a thought; that this feeble human being has penetrated the vast masses of nature with an informing soul, and recognized itself in their harmony, that is, seized their law. In physics, when this is attained, the memory disburthens itself of its cumbrous catalogues of particulars, and carries centuries of observation in a single formula.

Thus even in physics, the material is degraded before the spiritual. The astronomer, the geometer, rely on their irrefragable analysis, and disdain the results of observation. The sublime remark of Euler on his law of arches, 'This will be found contrary to all experience, yet is true;' had already transferred nature into the mind, and left matter like an outcast corpse.

4. Intellectual science has been observed to beget invariably a doubt of the existence of matter. Turgot said, 'He that has never doubted the existence of matter, may be assured he has no aptitude for metaphysical inquiries.' It fastens the attention upon immortal necessary uncreated natures, that is, upon Ideas; and in their presence we feel that the outward circumstance is a dream and a shade. Whilst we wait in this Olympus of gods, we think of nature as an appendix to the soul. We ascend into their region, and know that these are the thoughts of the Supreme Being. 'These are they who were set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. When he prepared the heavens, they were there; when he established the clouds above, when he strengthened the fountains of the deep. Then they were by him, as one brought up with him. Of them took he counsel.'

Their influence is proportionate. As objects of science they are accessible to few men. Yet all men are capable of being raised by piety or by passion, into their region. And no man touches these divine natures, without becoming, in some degree, himself divine. Like a new soul, they renew the body. We become physically nimble and lightsome; we tread on air; life is no longer irksome, and we think it will never be so. No man fears age or misfortune or death in their serene company, for he is transported out of the district of change. Whilst we behold unveiled the nature of Justice and Truth, we learn the difference between the absolute and the conditional or relative. We apprehend the absolute. As it were, for the first time, we exist. We become immortal, for we learn that time and space are relations of matter; that with a perception of truth or a virtuous will they have no affinity.

5. Finally, religion and ethics, which may be fitly called the practice of ideas, or the introduction of ideas into life, have an analogous effect with all lower culture, in degrading nature and suggesting its dependence on spirit. Ethics and religion differ herein; that the one is the system of human duties commencing from man; the other, from God. Religion includes the personality of God; Ethics does not. They are one to our present design. They both put nature under foot. The first and last lesson of religion is, 'The things that are seen, are temporal; the things that are unseen, are eternal.' It puts an affront upon nature. It does that for the unschooled, which philosophy does for Berkeley and Viasa. The uniform language that may be heard in the churches of the most ignorant sects is — 'Contemn the unsubstantial shows of the world; they are vanities, dreams, shadows, unrealities; seek the realities of religion.' The devotee flouts nature. Some theosophists have arrived at a certain hostility and indignation towards matter, as the Manichean and Plotinus. They distrusted in themselves any looking back to these flesh-pots of Egypt. Plotinus was ashamed of his body. In short, they might all say of matter, what Michael Angelo said of external beauty, 'It is the frail and weary weed, in which God dresses the soul which he has called into time.'

It appears that motion, poetry, physical and intellectual science, and religion, all tend to affect our convictions of the reality of the external world. But I own there is something ungrateful in expanding too curiously the particulars of the general proposition, that all culture tends to imbue us with idealism. I have no hostility to nature, but a child's love to it. I expand and live in the warm day like corn and melons. Let us speak her fair. I do not wish to fling stones at my beautiful mother, nor soil my gentle nest. I only wish to indicate the true position of nature in regard to man, wherein to establish man all right education tends; as the ground which to attain is the object of human life, that is, of man's connection with nature. Culture inverts the vulgar views of nature, and brings the mind to call that apparent which it uses to call real, and that real which it uses to call visionary. Children, it is true, believe in the external world. The belief that it appears only, is an afterthought, but with culture this faith will as surely arise on the mind as did the first.

The advantage of the ideal theory over the popular faith is this, that it presents the world in precisely that view which is most desirable to the mind. It is, in fact, the view which Reason, both speculative and practical, that is, philosophy and virtue, take. For seen in the light of thought, the world always is phenomenal; and virtue subordinates it to the mind. Idealism sees the world in God. It beholds the whole circle of persons and things, of actions and events, of country and religion, not as painfully accumulated, atom after atom, act after act, in an aged creeping Past, but as one vast picture which God paints on the instant eternity for the contemplation of the soul. Therefore the soul holds itself off from a too trivial and microscopic study of the universal tablet. It respects the end too much to immerse itself in the means. It sees something more important in Christianity than the scandals of ecclesiastical history or the niceties of criticism; and, very incurious concerning persons or miracles, and not at all disturbed by chasms of historical evidence, it accepts from God the phenomenon, as it finds it, as the pure and awful form of religion in the world. It is not hot and passionate at the appearance of what it calls its own good or bad fortune, at the union or opposition of other persons. No man is its enemy. It accepts whatsoever befalls, as part of its lesson. It is a watcher more than a doer, and it is a doer, only that it may the better watch.

Spirit

Ⅶ

It is essential to a true theory of nature and of man, that it should contain somewhat progressive. Uses that are exhausted or that may be, and facts that end in the statement, cannot be all that is true of this brave lodging wherein man is harbored, and wherein all his faculties find appropriate and endless exercise. And all the uses of nature admit of being summed in one, which yields the activity of man an infinite scope. Through all its kingdoms, to the suburbs and outskirts of things, it is faithful to the cause whence it had its origin. It always speaks of spirit. It suggests the absolute. It is a perpetual effect. It is a great shadow pointing always to the sun behind us.

The aspect of nature is devout. Like the figure of Jesus, she stands with bended head, and hands folded upon the breast. The happiest man is he who learns from nature the lesson of worship.

Of that ineffable essence which we call spirit, he that thinks most, will say least. We can foresee God in the coarse, and, as it were, distant phenomena of matter; but when we try to define and describe himself, both language and thought desert us, and we are as helpless as fools and savages. That essence refuses to be recorded in propositions, but when man has worshipped him intellectually, the noblest ministry of nature is to stand as the apparition of God. It is the organ through which the universal spirit speaks to the individual, and strives to lead back the individual to it.

When we consider spirit, we see that the views already presented do not include the whole circumference of man. We must add some related thoughts.

Three problems are put by nature to the mind: What is matter? Whence is it? and Whereto? The first of these questions only, the ideal theory answers. Idealism saith: matter is a phenomenon, not a substance. Idealism acquaints us with the total disparity between the evidence of our own being and the evidence of the world's being. The one is perfect; the other, incapable of any assurance; the mind is a part of the nature of things; the world is a divine dream, from which we may presently awake to the glories and certainties of day. Idealism is a hypothesis to account for nature by other principles than those of carpentry and chemistry. Yet, if it only deny the existence of matter, it does not satisfy the demands of the spirit. It leaves God out of me. It leaves me in the splendid labyrinth of my perceptions, to wander without end. Then the heart resists it, because it balks the affections in denying substantive being to men and women. Nature is so pervaded with human life that there is something of humanity in all and in every particular. But this theory makes nature foreign to me, and does not account for that consanguinity which we acknowledge to it.

Let it stand then, in the present state of our knowledge, merely as a useful introductory hypothesis, serving to apprize us of the eternal distinction between the soul and the world.

But when, following the invisible steps of thought, we come to inquire, Whence is matter? and Whereto? many truths arise to us out of the recesses of consciousness. We learn that the highest is present to the soul of man; that the dread universal essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or beauty, or power, but all in one, and each entirely, is that for which all things exist, and that by which they are; that spirit creates; that behind nature, throughout nature, spirit is present; one and not compound it does not act upon us from without, that is, in space and time, but spiritually, or through ourselves: therefore, that spirit, that is, the Supreme Being, does not build up nature around us, but puts it forth through us, as the life of the tree puts forth new branches and leaves through the pores of the old. As a plant upon the earth, so a man rests upon the bosom of God; he is nourished by unfailing fountains, and draws at his need inexhaustible power. Who can set bounds to the possibilities of man? Once inhale the upper air, being admitted to behold the absolute natures of justice and truth, and we learn that man has access to the entire mind of the Creator, is himself the creator in the finite. This view, which admonishes me where the sources of wisdom and power lie, and points to virtue as to

'The golden key

Which opes the palace of eternity,'

carries upon its face the highest certificate of truth, because it animates me to create my own world through the purification of my soul.

The world proceeds from the same spirit as the body of man. It is a remoter and inferior incarnation of God, a projection of God in the unconscious. But it differs from the body in one important respect. It is not, like that, now subjected to the human will. Its serene order is inviolable by us. It is, therefore, to us, the present expositor of the divine mind. It is a fixed point whereby we may measure our departure. As we degenerate, the contrast between us and our house is more evident. We are as much strangers in nature as we are aliens from God. We do not understand the notes of birds. The fox and the deer run away from us; the bear and tiger rend us. We do not know the uses of more than a few plants, as corn and the apple, the potato and the vine. Is not the landscape, every glimpse of which hath a grandeur, a face of him? Yet this may show us what discord is between man and nature, for you cannot freely admire a noble landscape if laborers are digging in the field hard by. The poet finds something ridiculous in his delight until he is out of the sight of men.

Prospects

Ⅷ

In inquiries respecting the laws of the world and the frame of things, the highest reason is always the truest. That which seems faintly possible, it is so refined, is often faint and dim because it is deepest seated in the mind among the eternal verities. Empirical science is apt to cloud the sight, and by the very knowledge of functions and processes to bereave the student of the manly contemplation of the whole. The savant becomes unpoetic. But the best read naturalist who lends an entire and devout attention to truth, will see that there remains much to learn of his relation to the world, and that it is not to be learned by any addition or subtraction or other comparison of known quantities, but is arrived at by untaught sallies of the spirit, by a continual self-recovery, and by entire humility. He will perceive that there are far more excellent qualities in the student than preciseness and infallibility; that a guess is often more fruitful than an indisputable affirmation, and that a dream may let us deeper into the secret of nature than a hundred concerted experiments.

For the problems to be solved are precisely those which the physiologist and the naturalist omit to state. It is not so pertinent to man to know all the individuals of the animal kingdom, as it is to know whence and whereto is this tyrannizing unity in his constitution, which evermore separates and classifies things, endeavoring to reduce the most diverse to one form. When I behold a rich landscape, it is less to my purpose to recite correctly the order and superposition of the strata, than to know why all thought of multitude is lost in a tranquil sense of unity. I cannot greatly honor minuteness in details, so long as there is no hint to explain the relation between things and thoughts; no ray upon the metaphysics of conchology, of botany, of the arts, to show the relation of the forms of flowers, shells, animals, architecture, to the mind, and build science upon ideas. In a cabinet of natural history, we become sensible of a certain occult recognition and sympathy in regard to the most unwieldy and eccentric forms of beast, fish, and insect. The American who has been confined, in his own country, to the sight of buildings designed after foreign models, is surprised on entering York Minster or St Peter's at Rome, by the feeling that these structures are imitations also, — faint copies of an invisible archetype. Nor has science sufficient humanity, so long as the naturalist overlooks that wonderful congruity which subsists between man and the world; of which he is lord, not because he is the most subtile inhabitant, but because he is its head and heart, and finds something of himself in every great and small thing, in every mountain stratum, in every new law of color, fact of astronomy, or atmospheric influence which observation or analysis lays open. A perception of this mystery inspires the muse of George Herbert, the beautiful psalmist of the seventeenth century. The following lines are part of his little poem on Man.

Man is all symmetry,

Full of proportions, one limb to another,

And all to all the world besides.

Each part may call the farthest, brother;

For head with foot hath private amity,

And both with moons and tides.

Nothing hath got so far

But man hath caught and kept it as his prey;

His eyes dismount the highest star:

He is in little all the sphere.

Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they

Find their acquaintance there.

For us, the winds do blow,

The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow;

Nothing we see, but means our good,

As our delight, or as our treasure;

The whole is either our cupboard of food,

Or cabinet of pleasure.

The stars have us to bed:

Night draws the curtain; which the sun withdraws.

Music and light attend our head.

All things unto our flesh are kind,

In their descent and being; to our mind,

In their ascent and cause.

More servants wait on man

Than he'll take notice of. In every path,

He treads down that which doth befriend him

When sickness makes him pale and wan.

Oh mighty love! Man is one world, and hath

Another to attend him.

The perception of this class of truths makes the attraction which draws men to science, but the end is lost sight of in attention to the means. In view of this half-sight of science, we accept the sentence of Plato, that 'poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.' Every surmise and vaticination of the mind is entitled to a certain respect, and we learn to prefer imperfect theories, and sentences which contain glimpses of truth, to digested systems which have no one valuable suggestion. A wise writer will feel that the ends of study and composition are best answered by announcing undiscovered regions of thought, and so communicating, through hope, new activity to the torpid spirit.

I shall therefore conclude this essay with some traditions of man and nature, which a certain poet sang to me; and which, as they have always been in the world, and perhaps reappear to every bard, may be both history and prophecy.

'The foundations of man are not in matter, but in spirit. But the element of spirit is eternity. To it, therefore, the longest series of events, the oldest chronologies are young and recent. In the cycle of the universal man, from whom the known individuals proceed, centuries are points, and all history is but the epoch of one degradation.

'We distrust and deny inwardly our sympathy with nature. We own and disown our relation to it, by turns. We are like Nebuchadnezzar, dethroned, bereft of reason, and eating grass like an ox. But who can set limits to the remedial force of spirit?

'A man is a god in ruins. When men are innocent, life shall be longer, and shall pass into the immortal as gently as we awake from dreams. Now, the world would be insane and rabid, if these disorganizations should last for hundreds of years. It is kept in check by death and infancy. Infancy is the perpetual Messiah, which comes into the arms of fallen men, and pleads with them to return to paradise.

'Man is the dwarf of himself. Once he was permeated and dissolved by spirit. He filled nature with his overflowing currents. Out from him sprang the sun and moon; from man the sun, from woman the moon. The laws of his mind, the periods of his actions externized themselves into day and night, into the year and the seasons. But, having made for himself this huge shell, his waters retired; he no longer fills the veins and veinlets; he is shrunk to a drop. He sees that the structure still fits him, but fits him colossally. Say, rather, once it fitted him, now it corresponds to him from far and on high. He adores timidly his own work. Now is man the follower of the sun, and woman the follower of the moon. Yet sometimes he starts in his slumber, and wonders at himself and his house, and muses strangely at the resemblance betwixt him and it. He perceives that if his law is still paramount, if still he have elemental power, if his word is sterling yet in nature, it is not conscious power, it is not inferior but superior to his will. It is instinct.' Thus my Orphic poet sang.

At present, man applies to nature but half his force. He works on the world with his understanding alone. He lives in it and masters it by a penny-wisdom; and he that works most in it is but a half-man, and whilst his arms are strong and his digestion good, his mind is imbruted, and he is a selfish savage. His relation to nature, his power over it, is through the understanding, as by manure; the economic use of fire, wind, water, and the mariner's needle; steam, coal, chemical agriculture; the repairs of the human body by the dentist and the surgeon. This is such a resumption of power as if a banished king should buy his territories inch by inch, instead of vaulting at once into his throne. Meantime, in the thick darkness, there are not wanting gleams of a better light, — occasional examples of the action of man upon nature with his entire force, — with reason as well as understanding. Such examples are, the traditions of miracles in the earliest antiquity of all nations; the history of Jesus Christ; the achievements of a principle, as in religious and political revolutions, and in the abolition of the slave-trade; the miracles of enthusiasm, as those reported of Swedenborg, Hohenlohe, and the Shakers; many obscure and yet contested facts, now arranged under the name of Animal Magnetism; prayer; eloquence; self-healing; and the wisdom of children. These are examples of Reason's momentary grasp of the sceptre; the exertions of a power which exists not in time or space, but an instantaneous in-streaming causing power. The difference between the actual and the ideal force of man is happily figured by the schoolmen, in saying, that the knowledge of man is an evening knowledge, vespertina cognitio, but that of God is a morning knowledge, matutina cognitio.

The problem of restoring to the world original and eternal beauty is solved by the redemption of the soul. The ruin or the blank that we see when we look at nature, is in our own eye. The axis of vision is not coincident with the axis of things, and so they appear not transparent but opaque. The reason why the world lacks unity, and lies broken and in heaps, is because man is disunited with himself. He cannot be a naturalist until he satisfies all the demands of the spirit. Love is as much its demand as perception. Indeed, neither can be perfect without the other. In the uttermost meaning of the words, thought is devout, and devotion is thought. Deep calls unto deep. But in actual life, the marriage is not celebrated. There are innocent men who worship God after the tradition of their fathers, but their sense of duty has not yet extended to the use of all their faculties. And there are patient naturalists, but they freeze their subject under the wintry light of the understanding. Is not prayer also a study of truth, — a sally of the soul into the unfound infinite? No man ever prayed heartily without learning something. But when a faithful thinker, resolute to detach every object from personal relations and see it in the light of thought, shall, at the same time, kindle science with the fire of the holiest affections, then will God go forth anew into the creation.

It will not need, when the mind is prepared for study, to search for objects. The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common. What is a day? What is a year? What is summer? What is woman? What is a child? What is sleep? To our blindness, these things seem unaffecting. We make fables to hide the baldness of the fact and conform it, as we say, to the higher law of the mind. But when the fact is seen under the light of an idea, the gaudy fable fades and shrivels. We behold the real higher law. To the wise, therefore, a fact is true poetry, and the most beautiful of fables. These wonders are brought to our own door. You also are a man. Man and woman and their social life, poverty, labor, sleep, fear, fortune, are known to you. Learn that none of these things is superficial, but that each phenomenon has its roots in the faculties and affections of the mind. Whilst the abstract question occupies your intellect, nature brings it in the concrete to be solved by your hands. It were a wise inquiry for the closet, to compare, point by point, especially at remarkable crises in life, our daily history with the rise and progress of ideas in the mind.

So shall we come to look at the world with new eyes. It shall answer the endless inquiry of the intellect, — What is truth? and of the affections, — What is good? by yielding itself passive to the educated Will. Then shall come to pass what my poet said: 'Nature is not fixed but fluid. Spirit alters, moulds, makes it. The immobility or bruteness of nature is the absence of spirit; to pure spirit it is fluid, it is volatile, it is obedient. Every spirit builds itself a house, and beyond its house a world, and beyond its world a heaven. Know then that the world exists for you. For you is the phenomenon perfect. What we are, that only can we see. All that Adam had, all that Cæesar could, you have and can do. Adam called his house, heaven and earth; Cæsar called his house, Rome; you perhaps call yours, a cobbler's trade; a hundred acres of ploughed land; or a scholar's garret. Yet line for line and point for point your dominion is as great as theirs, though without fine names. Build therefore your own world. As fast as you conform your life to the pure idea in your mind, that will unfold its great proportions. A correspondent revolution in things will attend the influx of the spirit. So fast will disagreeable appearances, swine, spiders, snakes, pests, mad-houses, prisons, enemies, vanish; they are temporary and shall be no more seen. The sordor and filths of nature, the sun shall dry up and the wind exhale. As when the summer comes from the south the snow-banks melt and the face of the earth becomes green before it, so shall the advancing spirit create its ornaments along its path, and carry with it the beauty it visits and the song which enchants it; it shall draw beautiful faces, warm hearts, wise discourse, and heroic acts, around its way, until evil is no more seen. The kingdom of man over nature, which cometh not with observation, — a dominion such as now is beyond his dream of God, — he shall enter without more wonder than the blind man feels who is gradually restored to perfect sight.'

1836

History

There is no great and no small

To the Soul that maketh all:

And where it cometh, all things are;

And it cometh everywhere.

I am owner of the sphere,

Of the seven stars and the solar year,

Of Cæsar's hand, and Plato's brain,

Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain.

There is one mind common to all individual men. Every man is an inlet to the same and to all of the same. He that is once admitted to the right of reason is made a freeman of the whole estate. What Plato has thought, he may think; what a saint has felt, he may feel; what at any time has befallen any man, he can understand. Who hath access to this universal mind is a party to all that is or can be done, for this is the only and sovereign agent.

Of the works of this mind history is the record. Its genius is illustrated by the entire series of days. Man is explicable by nothing less than all his history. Without hurry, without rest, the human spirit goes forth from the beginning to embody every faculty, every thought, every emotion which belongs to it, in appropriate events. But the thought is always prior to the fact; all the facts of history pre-exist in the mind as laws. Each law in turn is made by circumstances predominant, and the limits of nature give power to but one at a time. A man is the whole encyclopædia of facts. The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn, and Egypt, Greece, Rome, Gaul, Britain, America, lie folded already in the first man. Epoch after epoch, camp, kingdom, empire, republic, democracy, are merely the application of his manifold spirit to the manifold world.

This human mind wrote history, and this must read it. The Sphinx must solve her own riddle. If the whole of history is in one man, it is all to be explained from individual experience. There is a relation between the hours of our life and the centuries of time. As the air I breathe is drawn from the great repositories of nature, as the light on my book is yielded by a star a hundred millions of miles distant, as the poise of my body depends on the equilibrium of centrifugal and centripetal forces, so the hours should be instructed by the ages and the ages explained by the hours. Of the universal mind each individual man is one more incarnation. All its properties consist in him. Each new fact in his private experience flashes a light on what great bodies of men have done, and the crises of his life refer to national crises. Every revolution was first a thought in one man's mind, and when the same thought occurs to another man, it is the key to that era. Every reform was once a private opinion, and when it shall be a private opinion again it will solve the problem of the age. The fact narrated must correspond to something in me to be credible or intelligible. We, as we read, must become Greeks, Romans, Turks, priest and king, martyr and executioner; must fasten these images to some reality in our secret experience, or we shall learn nothing rightly. What befell Asdrubal or Cæsar Borgia is as much an illustration of the mind's powers and depravations as what has befallen us. Each new law and political movement has a meaning for you. Stand before each of its tablets and say, 'Under this mask did my Proteus nature hide itself.' This remedies the defect of our too great nearness to ourselves. This throws our actions into perspective, — and as crabs, goats, scorpions, the balance and the waterpot lose their meanness when hung as signs in the zodiac, so I can see my own vices without heat in the distant persons of Solomon, Alcibiades, and Catiline.

It is the universal nature which gives worth to particular men and things. Human life, as containing this, is mysterious and inviolable, and we hedge it round with penalties and laws. All laws derive hence their ultimate reason; all express more or less distinctly some command of this supreme, illimitable essence. Property also holds of the soul, covers great spiritual facts, and instinctively we at first hold to it with swords and laws and wide and complex combinations. The obscure consciousness of this fact is the light of all our day, the claim of claims; the plea for education, for justice, for charity; the foundation of friendship and love and of the heroism and grandeur which belong to acts of self-reliance. It is remarkable that involuntarily we always read as superior beings. Universal history, the poets, the romancers, do not in their stateliest pictures, — in the sacerdotal, the imperial palaces, in the triumphs of will or of genius, — anywhere lose our ear, anywhere make us feel that we intrude, that this is for better men; but rather is it true that in their grandest strokes we feel most at home. All that Shakspeare says of the king, yonder slip of a boy that reads in the corner feels to be true of himself. We sympathize in the great moments of history, in the great discoveries, the great resistances, the great prosperities of men; — because there law was enacted, the sea was searched, the land was found, or the blow was struck, for us, as we ourselves in that place would have done or applauded.

We have the same interest in condition and character. We honor the rich because they have externally the freedom, power, and grace which we feel to be proper to man, proper to us. So all that is said of the wise man by Stoic or Oriental or modern essayist, describes to each reader his own idea, describes his unattained but attainable self. All literature writes the character of the wise man. Books, monuments, pictures, conversation, are portraits in which he finds the lineaments he is forming. The silent and the eloquent praise him and accost him, and he is stimulated wherever he moves, as by personal allusions. A true aspirant therefore never needs look for allusions personal and laudatory in discourse. He hears the commendation, not of himself, but, more sweet, of that character he seeks, in every word that is said concerning character, yea further in every fact and circumstance, — in the running river and the rustling corn. Praise is looked, homage tendered, love flows, from mute nature, from the mountains and the lights of the firmament.

These hints, dropped as it were from sleep and night, let us use in broad day. The student is to read history actively and not passively; to esteem his own life the text, and books the commentary. Thus compelled, the Muse of history will utter oracles, as never to those who do not respect themselves. I have no expectation that any man will read history aright who thinks that what was done in a remote age, by men whose names have resounded far, has any deeper sense than what he is doing to-day.

The world exists for the education of each man. There is no age or state of society or mode of action in history to which there is not somewhat corresponding in his life. Every thing tends in a wonderful manner to abbreviate itself and yield its own virtue to him. He should see that he can live all history in his own person. He must sit solidly at home, and not suffer himself to be bullied by kings or empires, but know that he is greater than all the geography and all the government of the world; he must transfer the point of view from which history is commonly read, from Rome and Athens and London, to himself, and not deny his conviction that he is the court, and if England or Egypt have anything to say to him he will try the case; if not, let them forever be silent. He must attain and maintain that lofty sight where facts yield their secret sense, and poetry and annals are alike. The instinct of the mind, the purpose of nature, betrays itself in the use we make of the signal narrations of history. Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts. No anchor, no cable, no fences avail to keep a fact a fact. Babylon, Troy, Tyre, Palestine, and even early Rome are passing already into fiction. The Garden of Eden, the sun standing still in Gibeon, is poetry thenceforward to all nations. Who cares what the fact was, when we have made a constellation of it to hang in heaven an immortal sign? London and Paris and New York must go the same way. 'What is history,' said Napoleon, 'but a fable agreed upon?' This life of ours is stuck round with Egypt, Greece, Gaul, England, War, Colonization, Church, Court and Commerce, as with so many flowers and wild ornaments grave and gay. I will not make more account of them. I believe in Eternity. I can find Greece, Asia, Italy, Spain and the Islands, — the genius and creative principle of each and of all eras, in my own mind.

We are always coming up with the emphatic facts of history in our private experience and verifying them here. All history becomes subjective; in other words there is properly no history, only biography. Every mind must know the whole lesson for itself, — must go over the whole ground. What it does not see, what it does not live, it will not know. What the former age has epitomized into a formula or rule for manipular convenience, it will lose all the good of verifying for itself, by means of the wall of that rule. Somewhere, sometime, it will demand and find compensation for that loss, by doing the work itself. Ferguson discovered many things in astronomy which had long been known. The better for him.

History must be this or it is nothing. Every law which the state enacts indicates a fact in human nature; that is all. We must in ourselves see the necessary reason of every fact, — see how it could and must be. So stand before every public and private work; before an oration of Burke, before a victory of Napoleon, before a martyrdom of Sir Thomas More, of Sidney, of Marmaduke Robinson; before a French Reign of Terror, and a Salem hanging of witches; before a fanatic Revival and the Animal Magnetism in Paris, or in Providence. We assume that we under like influence should be alike affected, and should achieve the like; and we aim to master intellectually the steps and reach the same height or the same degradation that our fellow, our proxy has done.

All inquiry into antiquity, all curiosity respecting the Pyramids, the excavated cities, Stonehenge, the Ohio Circles, Mexico, Memphis, — is the desire to do away this wild, savage, and preposterous There or Then, and introduce in its place the Here and the Now. Belzoni digs and measures in the mummy-pits and pyramids of Thebes until he can see the end of the difference between the monstrous work and himself. When he has satisfied himself, in general and in detail, that it was made by such a person as he, so armed and so motived, and to ends to which he himself should also have worked, the problem is solved; his thought lives along the whole line of temples and sphinxes and catacombs, passes through them all with satisfaction, and they live again to the mind, or are now.

A Gothic cathedral affirms that it was done by us and not done by us. Surely it was by man, but we find it not in our man. But we apply ourselves to the history of its production. We put ourselves into the place and state of the builder. We remember the forest-dwellers, the first temples, the adherence to the first type, and the decoration of it as the wealth of the nation increased; the value which is given to wood by carving led to the carving over the whole mountain of stone of a cathedral. When we have gone through this process, and added thereto the Catholic Church, its cross, its music, its processions, its Saints' days and image-worship, we have as it were been the man that made the minster; we have seen how it could and must be. We have the sufficient reason.

The difference between men is in their principle of association. Some men classify objects by color and size and other accidents of appearance; others by intrinsic likeness, or by the relation of cause and effect. The progress of the intellect is to the clearer vision of causes, which neglects surface differences. To the poet, to the philosopher, to the saint, all things are friendly and sacred, all events profitable, all days holy, all men divine. For the eye is fastened on the life, and slights the circumstance. Every chemical substance, every plant, every animal in its growth, teaches the unity of cause, the variety of appearance.

Upborne and surrounded as we are by this all-creating nature, soft and fluid as a cloud or the air, why should we be such hard pedants, and magnify a few forms? Why should we make account of time, or of magnitude, or of figure? The soul knows them not, and genius, obeying its law, knows how to play with them as a young child plays with graybeards and in churches. Genius studies the causal thought, and far back in the womb of things sees the rays parting from one orb, that diverge, ere they fall, by infinite diameters. Genius watches the monad through all his masks as he performs the metempsychosis of nature. Genius detects through the fly, through the caterpillar, through the grub, through the egg, the constant individual; through countless individuals the fixed species; through many species the genus; through all genera the steadfast type; through all the kingdoms of organized life the eternal unity. Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same. She casts the same thought into troops of forms, as a poet makes twenty fables with one moral. Through the bruteness and toughness of matter, a subtle spirit bends all things to its own will. The adamant streams into soft but precise form before it, and whilst I look at it its outline and texture are changed again. Nothing is so fleeting as form; yet never does it quite deny itself. In man we still trace the remains or hints of all that we esteem badges of servitude in the lower races; yet in him they enhance his nobleness and grace; as Io, in Æschylus, transformed to a cow, offends the imagination; but how changed when as Isis in Egypt she meets Osiris-Jove, a beautiful woman with nothing of the metamorphosis left but the lunar horns as the splendid ornament of her brows!

The identity of history is equally intrinsic, the diversity equally obvious. There is, at the surface, infinite variety of things; at the centre there is simplicity of cause. How many are the acts of one man in which we recognize the same character! Observe the sources of our information in respect to the Greek genius. We have the civil history of that people, as Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, and Plutarch have given it; a very sufficient account of what manner of persons they were and what they did. We have the same national mind expressed for us again in their literature, in epic and lyric poems, drama, and philosophy; a very complete form. Then we have it once more in their architecture, a beauty as of temperance itself, limited to the straight line and the square, — a builded geometry. Then we have it once again in sculpture, the 'tongue on the balance of expression,' a multitude of forms in the utmost freedom of action and never transgressing the ideal serenity; like votaries performing some religious dance before the gods, and, though in convulsive pain or mortal combat, never daring to break the figure and decorum of their dance. Thus of the genius of one remarkable people we have a fourfold representation: and to the senses what more unlike than an ode of Pindar, a marble centaur, the peristyle of the Parthenon, and the last actions of Phocion?

Every one must have observed faces and forms which, without any resembling feature, make a like impression on the beholder. A particular picture or copy of verses, if it do not awaken the same train of images, will yet superinduce the same sentiment as some wild mountain walk, although the resemblance is nowise obvious to the senses, but is occult and out of the reach of the understanding. Nature is an endless combination and repetition of a very few laws. She hums the old wellknown air through innumerable variations.

Nature is full of a sublime family likeness throughout her works, and delights in startling us with resemblances in the most unexpected quarters. I have seen the head of an old sachem of the forest which at once reminded the eye of a bald mountain summit, and the furrows of the brow suggested the strata of the rock. There are men whose manners have the same essential splendor as the simple and awful sculpture on the friezes of the Parthenon and the remains of the earliest Greek art. And there are compositions of the same strain to be found in the books of all ages. What is Guido's Rospigliosi Aurora but a morning thought, as the horses in it are only a morning cloud? If any one will but take pains to observe the variety of actions to which he is equally inclined in certain moods of mind, and those to which he is averse, he will see how deep is the chain of affinity.

A painter told me that nobody could draw a tree without in some sort becoming a tree; or draw a child by studying the outlines of its form merely, — but by watching for a time his motions and plays, the painter enters into his nature and can then draw him at will in every attitude. So Roos 'entered into the inmost nature of a sheep.' I knew a draughtsman employed in a public survey who found that he could not sketch the rocks until their geological structure was first explained to him. In a certain state of thought is the common origin of very diverse works. It is the spirit and not the fact that is identical. By a deeper apprehension, and not primarily by a painful acquisition of many manual skills, the artist attains the power of awakening other souls to a given activity.

It has been said that 'common souls pay with what they do, nobler souls with that which they are.' And why? Because a profound nature awakens in us by its actions and words, by its very looks and manners, the same power and beauty that a gallery of sculpture or of pictures addresses.

Civil and natural history, the history of art and of literature, must be explained from individual history, or must remain words. There is nothing but is related to us, nothing that does not interest us, — kingdom, college, tree, horse, or iron shoe, — the roots of all things are in man. Santa Croce and the Dome of St Peter's are lame copies after a divine model. Strasburg Cathedral is a material counterpart of the soul of Erwin of Steinbach. The true poem is the poet's mind; the true ship is the ship-builder. In the man, could we lay him open, we should see the reason for the last flourish and tendril of his work; as every spine and tint in the sea-shell pre-exists in the secreting organs of the fish. The whole of heraldry and of chivalry is in courtesy. A man of fine manners shall pronounce your name with all the ornament that titles of nobility could ever add.

The trivial experience of every day is always verifying some old prediction to us and converting into things the words and signs which we had heard and seen without heed. A lady with whom I was riding in the forest said to me that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer had passed onward; a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet. The man who has seen the rising moon break out of the clouds at midnight, has been present like an archangel at the creation of light and of the world. I remember one summer day in the fields my companion pointed out to me a broad cloud, which might extend a quarter of a mile parallel to the horizon, quite accurately in the form of a cherub as painted over churches, — a round block in the centre, which it was easy to animate with eyes and mouth, supported on either side by wide-stretched symmetrical wings. What appears once in the atmosphere may appear often, and it was undoubtedly the archetype of that familiar ornament. I have seen in the sky a chain of summer lightning which at once showed to me that the Greeks drew from nature when they painted the thunderbolt in the hand of Jove. I have seen a snow-drift along the sides of the stone wall which obviously gave the idea of the common architectural scroll to abut a tower.

By surrounding ourselves with the original circumstances we invent anew the orders and the ornaments of architecture, as we see how each people merely decorated its primitive abodes. The Doric temple preserves the semblance of the wooden cabin in which the Dorian dwelt. The Chinese pagoda is plainly a Tartar tent. The Indian and Egyptian temples still betray the mounds and subterranean houses of their forefathers. 'The custom of making houses and tombs in the living rock,' says Heeren in his Researches on the Ethiopians, 'determined very naturally the principal character of the Nubian Egyptian architecture to the colossal form which it assumed. In these caverns, already prepared by nature, the eye was accustomed to dwell on huge shapes and masses, so that when art came to the assistance of nature it could not move on a small scale without degrading itself. What would statues of the usual size, or neat porches and wings have been, associated with those gigantic halls before which only Colossi could sit as watchmen or lean on the pillars of the interior?'

The Gothic church plainly originated in a rude adaptation of the forest trees, with all their boughs, to a festal or solemn arcade; as the bands about the cleft pillars still indicate the green withes that tied them. No one can walk in a road cut through pine woods, without being struck with the architectural appearance of the grove, especially in winter, when the barrenness of all other trees shows the low arch of the Saxons. In the woods in a winter afternoon one will see as readily the origin of the stained glass window, with which the Gothic cathedrals are adorned, in the colors of the western sky seen through the bare and crossing branches of the forest. Nor can any lover of nature enter the old piles of Oxford and the English cathedrals, without feeling that the forest overpowered the mind of the builder, and that his chisel, his saw and plane still reproduced its ferns, its spikes of flowers, its locust, elm, oak, pine, fir and spruce.

The Gothic cathedral is a blossoming in stone subdued by the insatiable demand of harmony in man. The mountain of granite blooms into an eternal flower, with the lightness and delicate finish as well as the aerial proportions and perspective of vegetable beauty.

In like manner all public facts are to be individualized, all private facts are to be generalized. Then at once History becomes fluid and true, and Biography deep and sublime. As the Persian imitated in the slender shafts and capitals of his architecture the stem and flower of the lotus and palm, so the Persian court in its magnificent era never gave over the nomadism of its barbarous tribes, but travelled from Ecbatana, where the spring was spent, to Susa in summer and to Babylon for the winter.

In the early history of Asia and Africa, nomadism and Agriculture are the two antagonist facts. The geography of Asia and of Africa necessitated a nomadic life. But the nomads were the terror of all those whom the soil or the advantages of a market had induced to build towns. Agriculture therefore was a religious injunction, because of the perils of the state from nomadism. And in these late and civil countries of England and America these propensities still fight out the old battle, in the nation and in the individual. The nomads of Africa were constrained to wander, by the attacks of the gad-fly, which drives the cattle mad, and so compels the tribe to emigrate in the rainy season and to drive off the cattle to the higher sandy regions. The nomads of Asia follow the pasturage from month to month. In America and Europe the nomadism is of trade and curiosity; a progress, certainly, from the gad-fly of Astaboras to the Anglo and Italo-mania of Boston Bay. Sacred cities, to which a periodical religious pilgrimage was enjoined, or stringent laws and customs tending to invigorate the national bond, were the check on the old rovers; and the cumulative values of long residence are the restraints on the itinerancy of the present day. The antagonism of the two tendencies is not less active in individuals, as the love of adventure or the love of repose happens to predominate. A man of rude health and flowing spirits has the faculty of rapid domestication, lives in his wagon and roams through all latitudes as easily as a Calmuc. At sea, or in the forest, or in the snow, he sleeps as warm, dines with as good appetite, and associates as happily as beside his own chimneys. Or perhaps his facility is deeper seated, in the increased range of his faculties of observation, which yield him points of interest wherever fresh objects meet his eyes. The pastoral nations were needy and hungry to desperation; and this intellectual nomadism, in its excess, bankrupts the mind through the dissipation of power on a miscellany of objects. The home-keeping wit, on the other hand, is that continence or content which finds all the elements of life in its own soil; and which has its own perils of monotony and deterioration, if not stimulated by foreign infusions.

Every thing the individual sees without him corresponds to his states of mind, and every thing is in turn intelligible to him, as his onward thinking leads him into the truth to which that fact or series belongs.

The primeval world, — the Fore-World, as the Germans say, — I can dive to it in myself as well as grope for it with researching fingers in catacombs, libraries, and the broken reliefs and torsos of ruined villas.

What is the foundation of that interest all men feel in Greek history, letters, art and poetry, in all its periods from the Heroic or Homeric age down to the domestic life of the Athenians and Spartans, four or five centuries later? What but this, that every man passes personally through a Grecian period. The Grecian state is the era of the bodily nature, the perfection of the senses, — of the spiritual nature unfolded in strict unity with the body. In it existed those human forms which supplied the sculptor with his models of Hercules, Phoebus, and Jove; not like the forms abounding in the streets of modern cities, wherein the face is a confused blur of features, but composed of incorrupt, sharply defined and symmetrical features, whose eye-sockets are so formed that it would be impossible for such eyes to squint and take furtive glances on this side and on that, but they must turn the whole head. The manners of that period are plain and fierce. The reverence exhibited is for personal qualities; courage, address, self-command, justice, strength, swiftness, a loud voice, a broad chest. Luxury and elegance are not known. A sparse population and want make every man his own valet, cook, butcher and soldier, and the habit of supplying his own needs educates the body to wonderful performances. Such are the Agamemnon and Diomed of Homer, and not far different is the picture Xenophon gives of himself and his compatriots in the Retreat of the Ten Thousand. 'After the army had crossed the river Teleboas in Armenia, there fell much snow, and the troops lay miserably on the ground covered with it. But Xenophon arose naked, and taking an axe, began to split wood; whereupon others rose and did the like.' Throughout his army exists a boundless liberty of speech. They quarrel for plunder, they wrangle with the generals on each new order, and Xenophon is as sharp-tongued as any and sharper-tongued than most, and so gives as good as he gets. Who does not see that this is a gang of great boys, with such a code of honor and such lax discipline as great boys have?

The costly charm of the ancient tragedy, and indeed of all the old literature, is that the persons speak simply, — speak as persons who have great good sense without knowing it, before yet the reflective habit has become the predominant habit of the mind. Our admiration of the antique is not admiration of the old, but of the natural. The Greeks are not reflective, but perfect in their senses and in their health, with the finest physical organization in the world. Adults acted with the simplicity and grace of children. They made vases, tragedies and statues, such as healthy senses should, — that is, in good taste. Such things have continued to be made in all ages, and are now, wherever a healthy physique exists; but, as a class, from their superior organization, they have surpassed all. They combine the energy of manhood with the engaging unconsciousness of childhood. The attraction of these manners is that they belong to man, and are known to every man in virtue of his being once a child; besides that there are always individuals who retain these characteristics. A person of childlike genius and inborn energy is still a Greek, and revives our love of the Muse of Hellas. I admire the love of nature in the Philoctetes. In reading those fine apostrophes to sleep, to the stars, rocks, mountains and waves, I feel time passing away as an ebbing sea. I feel the eternity of man, the identity of his thought. The Greek had, it seems, the same fellow-beings as I. The sun and moon, water and fire, met his heart precisely as they meet mine. Then the vaunted distinction between Greek and English, between Classic and Romantic schools, seems superficial and pedantic. When a thought of Plato becomes a thought to me, — when a truth that fired the soul of Pindar fires mine, time is no more. When I feel that we two meet in a perception, that our two souls are tinged with the same hue, and do as it were run into one, why should I measure degrees of latitude, why should I count Egyptian years?

The student interprets the age of chivalry by his own age of chivalry, and the days of maritime adventure and circumnavigation by quite parallel miniature experiences of his own. To the sacred history of the world he has the same key. When the voice of a prophet out of the deeps of antiquity merely echoes to him a sentiment of his infancy, a prayer of his youth, he then pierces to the truth through all the confusion of tradition and the caricature of institutions.

Rare, extravagant spirits come by us at intervals, who disclose to us new facts in nature. I see that men of God have from time to time walked among men and made their commission felt in the heart and soul of the commonest hearer. Hence evidently the tripod, the priest, the priestess inspired by the divine afflatus.

Jesus astonishes and overpowers sensual people. They cannot unite him to history, or reconcile him with themselves. As they come to revere their intuitions and aspire to live holily, their own piety explains every fact, every word.

How easily these old worships of Moses, of Zoroaster, of Menu, of Socrates, domesticate themselves in the mind. I cannot find any antiquity in them. They are mine as much as theirs.

I have seen the first monks and anchorets, without crossing seas or centuries. More than once some individual has appeared to me with such negligence of labor and such commanding contemplation, a haughty beneficiary begging in the name of God, as made good to the nineteenth century Simeon the Stylite, the Thebais, and the first Capuchins.

The priestcraft of the East and West, of the Magian, Brahmin, Druid, and Inca, is expounded in the individual's private life. The cramping influence of a hard formalist on a young child, in repressing his spirits and courage, paralyzing the understanding, and that without producing indignation, but only fear and obedience, and even much sympathy with the tyranny, — is a familiar fact, explained to the child when he becomes a man, only by seeing that the oppressor of his youth is himself a child tyrannized over by those names and words and forms of whose influence he was merely the organ to the youth. The fact teaches him how Belus was worshipped and how the Pyramids were built, better than the discovery by Champollion of the names of all the workmen and the cost of every tile. He finds Assyria and the Mounds of Cholula at his door, and himself has laid the courses.

Again, in that protest which each considerate person makes against the superstition of his times, he repeats step for step the part of old reformers, and in the search after truth finds, like them, new perils to virtue. He learns again what moral vigor is needed to supply the girdle of a superstition. A great licentiousness treads on the heels of a reformation. How many times in the history of the world has the Luther of the day had to lament the decay of piety in his own household! 'Doctor,' said his wife to Martin Luther, one day, 'how is it that whilst subject to papacy we prayed so often and with such fervor, whilst now we pray with the utmost coldness and very seldom?'

The advancing man discovers how deep a property he has in literature, — in all fable as well as in all history. He finds that the poet was no odd fellow who described strange and impossible situations, but that universal man wrote by his pen a confession true for one and true for all. His own secret biography he finds in lines wonderfully intelligible to him, dotted down before he was born. One after another he comes up in his private adventures with every fable of Æsop, of Homer, of Hafiz, of Ariosto, of Chaucer, of Scott, and verifies them with his own head and hands.

The beautiful fables of the Greeks, being proper creations of the imagination and not of the fancy, are universal verities. What a range of meanings and what perpetual pertinence has the story of Prometheus! Beside its primary value as the first chapter of the history of Europe, (the mythology thinly veiling authentic facts, the invention of the mechanic arts and the migration of colonies,) it gives the history of religion, with some closeness to the faith of later ages. Prometheus is the Jesus of the old mythology. He is the friend of man; stands between the unjust 'justice' of the Eternal Father and the race of mortals, and readily suffers all things on their account. But where it departs from the Calvinistic Christianity and exhibits him as the defier of Jove, it represents a state of mind which readily appears wherever the doctrine of Theism is taught in a crude, objective form, and which seems the self-defence of man against this untruth, namely a discontent with the believed fact that a God exists, and a feeling that the obligation of reverence is onerous. It would steal if it could the fire of the Creator, and live apart from him and independent of him. The Prometheus Vinctus is the romance of skepticism. Not less true to all time are the details of that stately apologue. Apollo kept the flocks of Admetus, said the poets. When the gods come among men, they are not known. Jesus was not; Socrates and Shakspeare were not. Antæus was suffocated by the gripe of Hercules, but every time he touched his mother-earth his strength was renewed. Man is the broken giant, and in all his weakness both his body and his mind are invigorated by habits of conversation with nature. The power of music, the power of poetry, to unfix and as it were clap wings to solid nature, interprets the riddle of Orpheus. The philosophical perception of identity through endless mutations of form makes him know the Proteus. What else am I who laughed or wept yesterday, who slept last night like a corpse, and this morning stood and ran? And what see I on any side but the transmigrations of Proteus? I can symbolize my thought by using the name of any creature, of any fact, because every creature is man agent or patient. Tantalus is but a name for you and me. Tantalus means the impossibility of drinking the waters of thought which are always gleaming and waving within sight of the soul. The transmigration of souls is no fable. I would it were; but men and women are only half human. Every animal of the barn-yard, the field and the forest, of the earth and of the waters that are under the earth, has contrived to get a footing and to leave the print of its features and form in some one or other of these upright, heaven-facing speakers. Ah! brother, stop the ebb of thy soul, — ebbing downward into the forms into whose habits thou hast now for many years slid. As near and proper to us is also that old fable of the Sphinx, who was said to sit in the road-side and put riddles to every passenger. If the man could not answer, she swallowed him alive. If he could solve the riddle, the Sphinx was slain. What is our life but an endless flight of winged facts or events? In splendid variety these changes come, all putting questions to the human spirit. Those men who cannot answer by a superior wisdom these facts or questions of time, serve them. Facts encumber them, tyrannize over them, and make the men of routine, the men of sense, in whom a literal obedience to facts has extinguished every spark of that light by which man is truly man. But if the man is true to his better instincts or sentiments, and refuses the dominion of facts, as one that comes of a higher race; remains fast by the soul and sees the principle, then the facts fall aptly and supple into their places; they know their master, and the meanest of them glorifies him.

See in Goethe's Helena the same desire that every word should be a thing. These figures, he would say, these Chirons, Griffins, Phorkyas, Helen and Leda, are somewhat, and do exert a specific influence on the mind. So far then are they eternal entities, as real to-day as in the first Olympiad. Much revolving them he writes out freely his humor, and gives them body to his own imagination. And although that poem be as vague and fantastic as a dream, yet is it much more attractive than the more regular dramatic pieces of the same author, for the reason that it operates a wonderful relief to the mind from the routine of customary images, — awakens the reader's invention and fancy by the wild freedom of the design, and by the unceasing succession of brisk shocks of surprise.

The universal nature, too strong for the petty nature of the bard, sits on his neck and writes through his hand; so that when he seems to vent a mere caprice and wild romance, the issue is an exact allegory. Hence Plato said that 'poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand.' All the fictions of the Middle Age explain themselves as a masked or frolic expression of that which in grave earnest the mind of that period toiled to achieve. Magic and all that is ascribed to it is a deep presentiment of the powers of science. The shoes of swiftness, the sword of sharpness, the power of subduing the elements, of using the secret virtues of minerals, of understanding the voices of birds, are the obscure efforts of the mind in a right direction. The preternatural prowess of the hero, the gift of perpetual youth, and the like, are alike the endeavor of the human spirit 'to bend the shows of things to the desires of the mind.'

In Perceforest and Amadis de Gaul a garland and a rose bloom on the head of her who is faithful, and fade on the brow of the inconstant. In the story of the Boy and the Mantle even a mature reader may be surprised with a glow of virtuous pleasure at the triumph of the gentle Venelas; and indeed all the postulates of elfin annals, — that the fairies do not like to be named; that their gifts are capricious and not to be trusted; that who seeks a treasure must not speak; and the like, — I find true in Concord, however they might be in Cornwall or Bretagne.

Is it otherwise in the newest romance? I read the Bride of Lammermoor. Sir William Ashton is a mask for a vulgar temptation, Ravenswood Castle a fine name for proud poverty, and the foreign mission of state only a Bunyan disguise for honest industry. We may all shoot a wild bull that would toss the good and beautiful, by fighting down the unjust and sensual. Lucy Ashton is another name for fidelity, which is always beautiful and always liable to calamity in this world.

But along with the civil and metaphysical history of man, another history goes daily forward, — that of the external world, — in which he is not less strictly implicated. He is the compend of time; he is also the correlative of nature. His power consists in the multitude of his affinities, in the fact that his life is intertwined with the whole chain of organic and inorganic being. In old Rome the public roads beginning at the Forum proceeded north, south, east, west, to the centre of every province of the empire, making each market-town of Persia, Spain and Britain pervious to the soldiers of the capital: so out of the human heart go as it were highways to the heart of every object in nature, to reduce it under the dominion of man. A man is a bundle of relations, a knot of roots, whose flower and fruitage is the world. His faculties refer to natures out of him and predict the world he is to inhabit, as the fins of the fish foreshow that water exists, or the wings of an eagle in the egg presuppose air. He cannot live without a world. Put Napoleon in an island prison, let his faculties find no men to act on, no Alps to climb, no stake to play for, and he would beat the air, and appear stupid. Transport him to large countries, dense population, complex interests and antagonist power, and you shall see that the man Napoleon, bounded that is by such a profile and outline, is not the virtual Napoleon. This is but Talbot's shadow; —

'His substance is not here.

For what you see is but the smallest part

And least proportion of humanity;

But were the whole frame here,

It is of such a spacious, lofty pitch,

Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.'

Columbus needs a planet to shape his course upon. Newton and Laplace need myriads of age and thick-strewn celestial areas. One may say a gravitating solar system is already prophesied in the nature of Newton's mind. Not less does the brain of Davy or of Gay-Lussac, from childhood exploring the affinities and repulsions of particles, anticipate the laws of organization. Does not the eye of the human embryo predict the light? the ear of Handel predict the witchcraft of harmonic sound? Do not the constructive fingers of Watt, Fulton, Whittemore, Arkwright, predict the fusible, hard, and temperable texture of metals, the properties of stone, water, and wood? Do not the lovely attributes of the maiden child predict the refinements and decorations of civil society? Here also we are reminded of the action of man on man. A mind might ponder its thoughts for ages and not gain so much self-knowledge as the passion of love shall teach it in a day. Who knows himself before he has been thrilled with indignation at an outrage, or has heard an eloquent tongue, or has shared the throb of thousands in a national exultation or alarm? No man can antedate his experience, or guess what faculty or feeling a new object shall unlock, any more than he can draw to-day the face of a person whom he shall see to-morrow for the first time.

I will not now go behind the general statement to explore the reason of this correspondency. Let it suffice that in the light of these two facts, namely, that the mind is One, and that nature is its correlative, history is to be read and written.

Thus in all ways does the soul concentrate and reproduce its treasures for each pupil. He too shall pass through the whole cycle of experience. He shall collect into a focus the rays of nature. History no longer shall be a dull book. It shall walk incarnate in every just and wise man. You shall not tell me by languages and titles a catalogue of the volumes you have read. You shall make me feel what periods you have lived. A man shall be the Temple of Fame. He shall walk, as the poets have described that goddess, in a robe painted all over with wonderful events and experiences; — his own form and features by their exalted intelligence shall be that variegated vest. I shall find in him the Foreworld; in his childhood the Age of Gold, the Apples of Knowledge, the Argonautic Expedition, the calling of Abraham, the building of the Temple, the Advent of Christ, Dark Ages, the Revival of Letters, the Reformation, the discovery of new lands, the opening of new sciences and new regions in man. He shall be the priest of Pan, and bring with him into humble cottages the blessing of the morning stars, and all the recorded benefits of heaven and earth.

Is there somewhat overweening in this claim? Then I reject all I have written, for what is the use of pretending to know what we know not? But it is the fault of our rhetoric that we cannot strongly state one fact without seeming to belie some other. I hold our actual knowledge very cheap. Hear the rats in the wall, see the lizard on the fence, the fungus under foot, the lichen on the log. What do I know sympathetically, morally, of either of these worlds of life? As old as the Caucasian man, — perhaps older, — these creatures have kept their counsel beside him, and there is no record of any word or sign that has passed from one to the other. What connection do the books show between the fifty or sixty chemical elements and the historical eras? Nay, what does history yet record of the metaphysical annals of man? What light does it shed on those mysteries which we hide under the names Death and Immortality? Yet every history should be written in a wisdom which divined the range of our affinities and looked at facts as symbols. I am ashamed to see what a shallow village tale our so-called History is. How many times we must say Rome, and Paris, and Constantinople! What does Rome know of rat and lizard? What are Olympiads and Consulates to these neighboring systems of being? Nay, what food or experience or succor have they for the Esquimaux seal-hunter, for the Kanàka in his canoe, for the fisherman, the stevedore, the porter?

Broader and deeper we must write our annals, — from an ethical reformation, from an influx of the ever new, ever sanative conscience, — if we would trulier express our central and wide-related nature, instead of this old chronology of selfishness and pride to which we have too long lent our eyes. Already that day exists for us, shines in on us at unawares, but the path of science and of letters is not the way into nature. The idiot, the Indian, the child and unschooled farmer's boy stand nearer to the light by which nature is to be read, than the dissector or the antiquary.

1841

Self-Reliance

'Ne to quæsiveris extra.' ['Do not seek yourself outside yourself']

Man is his own star; and the soul that can

Render an honest and a perfect man,

Commands all light, all influence, all fate;

Nothing to him falls early or too late.

Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,

Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.

Epilogue to Beaumont and Fletcher's

Honest Man's Fortune

Cast the bantling on the rocks,

Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat,

Wintered with the hawk and fox,

Power and speed be hands and feet.

I read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional. The soul always hears an admonition in such lines, let the subject be what it may. The sentiment they instil is of more value than any thought they may contain. To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, — that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost, and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato and Milton is that they set at naught books and traditions, and spoke not what men, but what they thought. A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.

There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better for worse as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without pre-established harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.

Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort and advancing on Chaos and the Dark.

What pretty oracles nature yields us on this text in the face and behavior of children, babes, and even brutes! That divided and rebel mind, that distrust of a sentiment because our arithmetic has computed the strength and means opposed to our purpose, these have not. Their mind being whole, their eye is as yet unconquered, and when we look in their faces we are disconcerted. Infancy conforms to nobody; all conform to it; so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the adults who prattle and play to it. So God has armed youth and puberty and manhood no less with its own piquancy and charm, and made it enviable and gracious and its claims not to be put by, if it will stand by itself. Do not think the youth has no force, because he cannot speak to you and me. Hark! in the next room his voice is sufficiently clear and emphatic. It seems he knows how to speak to his contemporaries. Bashful or bold then, he will know how to make us seniors very unnecessary.

The nonchalance of boys who are sure of a dinner, and would disdain as much as a lord to do or say aught to conciliate one, is the healthy attitude of human nature. A boy is in the parlor what the pit is in the playhouse; independent, irresponsible, looking out from his corner on such people and facts as pass by, he tries and sentences them on their merits, in the swift, summary way of boys, as good, bad, interesting, silly, eloquent, troublesome. He cumbers himself never about consequences, about interests; he gives an independent, genuine verdict. You must court him; he does not court you. But the man is as it were clapped into jail by his consciousness. As soon as he has once acted or spoken with éclat he is a committed person, watched by the sympathy or the hatred of hundreds, whose affections must now enter into his account. There is no Lethe for this. Ah, that he could pass again into his neutrality! Who can thus avoid all pledges and, having observed, observe again from the same unaffected, unbiased, unbribable, unaffrighted innocence, — must always be formidable. He would utter opinions on all passing affairs, which being seen to be not private but necessary, would sink like darts into the ear of men, and put them in fear.

These are the voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most requests is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.

Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it be goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world. I remember an answer which when quite young I was prompted to make to a valued adviser who was wont to importune me with the dear old doctrines of the church. On my saying, 'What have I to do with the sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from within?' my friend suggested, — 'But these impulses may be from below, not from above.' I replied, 'They do not seem to me to be such; but if I am the Devil's child, I will live then from the Devil.' No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this; the only right is what is after my constitution; the only wrong what is against it. A man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition as if every thing were titular and ephemeral but he. I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions. Every decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me more than is right. I ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways. If malice and vanity wear the coat of philanthropy, shall that pass? If an angry bigot assumes this bountiful cause of Abolition, and comes to me with his last news from Barbadoes, why should I not say to him, 'Go love thy infant; love thy wood-chopper; be good-natured and modest; have that grace; and never varnish your hard, uncharitable ambition with this incredible tenderness for black folk a thousand miles off Thy love afar is spite at home.' Rough and graceless would be such greeting, but truth is handsomer than the affectation of love. Your goodness must have some edge to it, — else it is none. The doctrine of hatred must be preached, as the counteraction of the doctrine of love, when that pules and whines. I shun father and mother and wife and brother when my genius calls me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, Whim. I hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend the day in explanation. Expect me not to show cause why I seek or why I exclude company. Then again, do not tell me, as a good man did to-day, of my obligation to put all poor men in good situations. Are they my poor? I tell thee, thou foolish philanthropist, that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent I give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not belong. There is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual affinity I am bought and sold; for them I will go to prison if need be; but your miscellaneous popular charities; the education at college of fools; the building of meeting-houses to the vain end to which many now stand; alms to sots, and the thousand-fold Relief Societies; — though I confess with shame I sometimes succumb and give the dollar, it is a wicked dollar, which by and by I shall have the manhood to withhold.

Virtues are, in the popular estimate, rather the exception than the rule. There is the man and his virtues. Men do what is called a good action, as some piece of courage or charity, much as they would pay a fine in expiation of daily non-appearance on parade. Their works are done as an apology or extenuation of their living in the world, — as invalids and the insane pay a high board. Their virtues are penances. I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is for itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, than that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish it to be sound and sweet, and not to need diet and bleeding. I ask primary evidence that you are a man, and refuse this appeal from the man to his actions. I know that for myself it makes no difference whether I do or forbear those actions which are reckoned excellent. I cannot consent to pay for a privilege where I have intrinsic right. Few and mean as my gifts may be, I actually am, and do not need for my own assurance or the assurance of my fellows any secondary testimony.

What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.

The objection to conforming to usages that have become dead to you is that it scatters your force. It loses your time and blurs the impression of your character. If you maintain a dead church, contribute to a dead Bible-society, vote with a great party either for the government or against it, spread your table like base house-keepers, — under all these screens I have difficulty to detect the precise man you are: and of course so much force is withdrawn from your proper life. But do your work, and I shall know you. Do your work, and you shall reinforce yourself. A man must consider what a blind-man's-bluff is this game of conformity. If I know your sect I anticipate your argument. I hear a preacher announce for his text and topic the expediency of one of the institutions of his church. Do I not know beforehand that not possibly can he say a new and spontaneous word? Do I not know that with all this ostentation of examining the grounds of the institution he will do no such thing? Do I not know that he is pledged to himself not to look but at one side, the permitted side, not as a man, but as a parish minister? He is a retained attorney, and these airs of the bench are the emptiest affectation. Well, most men have bound their eyes with one or another handkerchief, and attached themselves to some one of these communities of opinion. This conformity makes them not false in a few particulars, authors of a few lies, but false in all particulars. Their every truth is not quite true. Their two is not the real two, their four not the real four; so that every word they say chagrins us and we know not where to begin to set them right. Meantime nature is not slow to equip us in the prison-uniform of the party to which we adhere. We come to wear one cut of face and figure, and acquire by degrees the gentlest asinine expression. There is a mortifying experience in particular, which does not fail to wreak itself also in the general history; I mean 'the foolish face of praise,' the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease, in answer to conversation which does not interest us. The muscles, not spontaneously moved but moved by a low usurping wilfulness, grow tight about the outline of the face, with the most disagreeable sensation.

For nonconformity the world whips you with its displeasure. And therefore a man must know how to estimate a sour face. The by-standers look askance on him in the public street or in the friend's parlor. If this aversion had its origin in contempt and resistance like his own he might well go home with a sad countenance; but the sour faces of the multitude, like their sweet faces, have no deep cause, but are put on and off as the wind blows and a newspaper directs. Yet is the discontent of the multitude more formidable than that of the senate and the college. It is easy enough for a firm man who knows the world to brook the rage of the cultivated classes. Their rage is decorous and prudent, for they are timid, as being very vulnerable themselves. But when to their feminine rage the indignation of the people is added, when the ignorant and the poor are aroused, when the unintelligent brute force that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow, it needs the habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it godlike as a trifle of no concernment.

The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loth to disappoint them.

But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? It seems to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone, scarcely even in acts of pure memory, but to bring the past for judgment into the thousand-eyed present, and live ever in a new day. In your metaphysics you have denied personality to the Deity, yet when the devout motions of the soul come, yield to them heart and life, though they should clothe God with shape and color. Leave your theory, as Joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot, and flee.

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad then to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.

I suppose no man can violate his nature. All the sallies of his will are rounded in by the law of his being, as the inequalities of Andes and Himmaleh are insignificant in the curve of the sphere. Nor does it matter how you gauge and try him. A character is like an acrostic or Alexandrian stanza; — read it forward, backward, or across, it still spells the same thing. In this pleasing contrite wood-life which God allows me, let me record day by day my honest thought without prospect or retrospect, and, I cannot doubt, it will be found symmetrical, though I mean it not and see it not. My book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of insects. The swallow over my window should interweave that thread or straw he carries in his bill into my web also. We pass for what we are. Character teaches above our wills. Men imagine that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions, and do not see that virtue or vice emit a breath every moment.

There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, so they be each honest and natural in their hour. For of one will, the actions will be harmonious, however unlike they seem. These varieties are lost sight of at a little distance, at a little height of thought. One tendency unites them all. The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks. See the line from a sufficient distance, and it straightens itself to the average tendency. Your genuine action will explain itself and will explain your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. Act singly, and what you have already done singly will justify you now. Greatness appeals to the future. If I can be firm enough to-day to do right and scorn eyes, I must have done so much right before as to defend me now. Be it how it will, do right now. Always scorn appearances and you always may. The force of character is cumulative. All the foregone days of virtue work their health into this. What makes the majesty of the heroes of the senate and the field, which so fills the imagination? The consciousness of a train of great days and victories behind. They shed a united light on the advancing actor. He is attended as by a visible escort of angels. That is it which throws thunder into Chatham's voice, and dignity into Washington's port, and America into Adams's eye. Honor is venerable to us because it is no ephemera. It is always ancient virtue. We worship it to-day because it is not of to-day. We love it and pay it homage because it is not a trap for our love and homage, but is self-dependent, self-derived, and therefore of an old immaculate pedigree, even if shown in a young person.

I hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity and consistency. Let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward. Instead of the gong for dinner, let us hear a whistle from the Spartan fife. Let us never bow and apologize more. A great man is coming to eat at my house. I do not wish to please him; I wish that he should wish to please me. I will stand here for humanity, and though I would make it kind, I would make it true. Let us affront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment of the times, and hurl in the face of custom and trade and office, the fact which is the upshot of all history, that there is a great responsible Thinker and Actor working wherever a man works; that a true man belongs to no other time or place, but is the centre of things. Where he is, there is nature. He measures you and all men and all events. Ordinarily, every body in society reminds us of somewhat else, or of some other person. Character, reality, reminds you of nothing else; it takes place of the whole creation. The man must be so much that he must make all circumstances indifferent. Every true man is a cause, a country, and an age; requires infinite spaces and numbers and time fully to accomplish his design; — and posterity seem to follow his steps as a train of clients. A man Caesar is born, and for ages after we have a Roman Empire. Christ is born, and millions of minds so grow and cleave to his genius that he is confounded with virtue and the possible of man. An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man; as, Monachism, of the Hermit Antony; the Reformation, of Luther; Quakerism, of Fox; Methodism, of Wesley; Abolition, of Clarkson. Scipio, Milton called 'the height of Rome,' and all history resolves itself very easily into the biography of a few stout and earnest persons.

Let a man then know his worth, and keep things under his feet. Let him not peep or steal, or skulk up and down with the air of a charity-boy, a bastard, or an interloper in the world which exists for him. But the man in the street, finding no worth in himself which corresponds to the force which built a tower or sculptured a marble god, feels poor when he looks on these. To him a palace, a statue, or a costly book have an alien and forbidding air, much like a gay equipage, and seem to say like that, Who are you, Sir?' Yet they all are his, suitors for his notice, petitioners to his faculties that they will come out and take possession. The picture waits for my verdict; it is not to command me, but I am to settle its claims to praise. That popular fable of the sot who was picked up dead-drunk in the street, carried to the duke's house, washed and dressed and laid in the duke's bed, and, on his waking, treated with all obsequious ceremony like the duke, and assured that he had been insane, owes its popularity to the fact that it symbolizes so well the state of man, who is in the world a sort of sot, but now and then wakes up, exercises his reason and finds himself a true prince.

Our reading is mendicant and sycophantic. In history our imagination plays us false. Kingdom and lordship, power and estate, are a gaudier vocabulary than private John and Edward in a small house and common day's work; but the things of life are the same to both; the sum total of both is the same. Why all this deference to Alfred and Scanderbeg and Gustavus? Suppose they were virtuous; did they wear out virtue? As great a stake depends on your private act to-day as followed their public and renowned steps. When private men shall act with original views, the lustre will be transferred from the actions of kings to those of gentlemen.

The world has been instructed by its kings, who have so magnetized the eyes of nations. It has been taught by this colossal symbol the mutual reverence that is due from man to man. The joyful loyalty with which men have everywhere suffered the king, the noble, or the great proprietor to walk among them by a law of his own, make his own scale of men and things and reverse theirs, pay for benefits not with money but with honor, and represent the law in his person, was the hieroglyphic by which they obscurely signified their consciousness of their own right and comeliness, the right of every man.

The magnetism which all original action exerts is explained when we inquire the reason of self-trust. Who is the Trustee? What is the aboriginal Self, on which a universal reliance may be grounded? What is the nature and power of that science-baffling star, without parallax, without calculable elements, which shoots a ray of beauty even into trivial and impure actions, if the least mark of independence appear? The inquiry leads us to that source, at once the essence of genius, of virtue, and of life, which we call Spontaneity or Instinct. We denote this primary wisdom as Intuition, whilst all later teachings are tuitions. In that deep force, the last fact behind which analysis cannot go, all things find their common origin. For the sense of being which in calm hours rises, we know not how, in the soul, is not diverse from things, from space, from light, from time, from man, but one with them and proceeds obviously from the same source whence their life and being also proceed. We first share the life by which things exist and afterwards see them as appearances in nature and forget that we have shared their cause. Here is the fountain of action and of thought. Here are the lungs of that inspiration which giveth man wisdom and which cannot be denied without impiety and atheism. We lie in the lap of immense intelligence, which makes us receivers of its truth and organs of its activity. When we discern justice, when we discern truth, we do nothing of ourselves, but allow a passage to its beams. If we ask whence this comes, if we seek to pry into the soul that causes, all philosophy is at fault. Its presence or its absence is all we can affirm. Every man discriminates between the voluntary acts of his mind and his involuntary perceptions, and knows that to his involuntary perceptions a perfect faith is due. He may err in the expression of them, but he knows that these things are so, like day and night, not to be disputed. My wilful actions and acquisitions are but roving; — the idlest reverie, the faintest native emotion, command my curiosity and respect. Thoughtless people contradict as readily the statement of perceptions as of opinions, or rather much more readily; for they do not distinguish between perception and notion. They fancy that I choose to see this or that thing. But perception is not whimsical, but fatal. If I see a trait, my children will see it after me, and in course of time all mankind, — although it may chance that no one has seen it before me. For my perception of it is as much a fact as the sun.

The relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure that it is profane to seek to interpose helps. It must be that when God speaketh he should communicate, not one thing, but all things; should fill the world with his voice; should scatter forth light, nature, time, souls, from the centre of the present thought; and new date and new create the whole. Whenever a mind is simple and receives a divine wisdom, old things pass away, — means, teachers, texts, temples fall; it lives now, and absorbs past and future into the present hour. All things are made sacred by relation to it, — one as much as another. All things are dissolved to their centre by their cause, and in the universal miracle petty and particular miracles disappear. If therefore a man claims to know and speak of God and carries you backward to the phraseology of some old mouldered nation in another country, in another world, believe him not. Is the acorn better than the oak which is its fulness and completion? Is the parent better than the child into whom he has cast his ripened being? Whence then this worship of the past? The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and authority of the soul. Time and space are but physiological colors which the eye makes, but the soul is light: where it is, is day; where it was, is night; and history is an impertinence and an injury if it be any thing more than a cheerful apologue or parable of my being and becoming.

Man is timid and apologetic; he is no longer upright; he dares not say 'I think,' 'I am,' but quotes some saint or sage. He is ashamed before the blade of grass or the blowing rose. These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more; in the leafless root there is no less. Its nature is satisfied and it satisfies nature in all moments alike. But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above time.

This should be plain enough. Yet see what strong intellects dare not yet hear God himself unless he speak the phraseology of I know not what David, or Jeremiah, or Paul. We shall not always set so great a price on a few texts, on a few lives. We are like children who repeat by rote the sentences of grandames and tutors, and, as they grow older, of the men of talents and character they chance to see, — painfully recollecting the exact word they spoke; afterwards, when they come into the point of view which those had who uttered these sayings, they understand them and are willing to let the words go; for at any time they can use words as good when occasion comes. If we live truly, we shall see truly. It is as easy for the strong man to be strong, as it is for the weak to be weak. When we have new perception, we shall gladly disburden the memory of its hoarded treasures as old rubbish. When a man lives with God, his voice shall be as sweet as the murmur of the brook and the rustle of the corn.

And now at last the highest truth on this subject remains unsaid; probably cannot be said; for all that we say is the far-off remembering of the intuition. That thought by what I can now nearest approach to say it, is this. When good is near you, when you have life in yourself, it is not by any known or accustomed way; you shall not discern the footprints of any other; you shall not see the face of man; you shall not hear any name; — the way, the thought, the good, shall be wholly strange and new. It shall exclude example and experience. You take the way from man, not to man. All persons that ever existed are its forgotten ministers. Fear and hope are alike beneath it. There is somewhat low even in hope. In the hour of vision there is nothing that can be called gratitude, nor properly joy. The soul raised over passion beholds identity and eternal causation, perceives the self-existence of Truth and Right, and calms itself with knowing that all things go well. Vast spaces of nature, the Atlantic Ocean, the South Sea; long intervals of time, years, centuries, are of no account. This which I think and feel underlay every former state of life and circumstances, as it does underlie my present, and what is called life and what is called death.

Life only avails, not the having lived. Power ceases in the instant of repose; it resides in the moment of transition from a past to a new state, in the shooting of the gulf, in the darting to an aim. This one fact the world hates; that the soul becomes; for that forever degrades the past, turns all riches to poverty, all reputation to a shame, confounds the saint with the rogue, shoves Jesus and Judas equally aside. Why then do we prate of self-reliance? Inasmuch as the soul is present there will be power not confident but agent. To talk of reliance is a poor external way of speaking. Speak rather of that which relies because it works and is. Who has more obedience than I masters me, though he should not raise his finger. Round him I must revolve by the gravitation of spirits. We fancy it rhetoric when we speak of eminent virtue. We do not yet see that virtue is Height, and that a man or a company of men, plastic and permeable to principles, by the law of nature must overpower and ride all cities, nations, kings, rich men, poets, who are not.

This is the ultimate fact which we so quickly reach on this, as on every topic, the resolution of all into the ever-blessed ONE. Self-existence is the attribute of the Supreme Cause, and it constitutes the measure of good by the degree in which it enters into all lower forms. All things real are so by so much virtue as they contain. Commerce, husbandry, hunting, whaling, war, eloquence, personal weight, are somewhat, and engage my respect as examples of its presence and impure action. I see the same law working in nature for conservation and growth. Power is, in nature, the essential measure of right. Nature suffers nothing to remain in her kingdoms which cannot help itself. The genesis and maturation of a planet, its poise and orbit, the bended tree recovering itself from the strong wind, the vital resources of every animal and vegetable, are demonstrations of the self-sufficing and therefore self-relying soul.

Thus all concentrates: let us not rove; let us sit at home with the cause. Let us stun and astonish the intruding rabble of men and books and institutions by a simple declaration of the divine fact. Bid the invaders take the shoes from off their feet, for God is here within. Let our simplicity judge them, and our docility to our own law demonstrate the poverty of nature and fortune beside our native riches.

But now we are a mob. Man does not stand in awe of man, nor is his genius admonished to stay at home, to put itself in communication with the internal ocean, but it goes abroad to beg a cup of water of the urns of other men. We must go alone. I like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching. How far off, how cool, how chaste the persons look, begirt each one with a precinct or sanctuary! So let us always sit. Why should we assume the faults of our friends, or wife, or father, or child, because they sit around our hearth, or are said to have the same blood? All men have my blood and I all men's. Not for that will I adopt their petulance or folly, even to the extent of being ashamed of it. But your isolation must not be mechanical, but spiritual, that is, must be elevation. At times the whole world seems to be in conspiracy to importune you with emphatic trifles. Friend, client, child, sickness, fear, want, charity, all knock at once at thy closet door and say, — 'Come out unto us.' But keep thy state; come not into their confusion. The power men possess to annoy me I give them by a weak curiosity. No man can come near me but through my act. 'What we love that we have, but by desire we bereave ourselves of the love.'

If we cannot at once rise to the sanctities of obedience and faith, let us at least resist our temptations; let us enter into the state of war and wake Thor and Woden, courage and constancy, in our Saxon breasts. This is to be done in our smooth times by speaking the truth. Check this lying hospitality and lying affection. Live no longer to the expectation of these deceived and deceiving people with whom we converse. Say to them, 'O father, O mother, O wife, O brother, O friend, I have lived with you after appearances hitherto. Henceforward I am the truth's. Be it known unto you that henceforward I obey no law less than the eternal law. I will have no covenants but proximities. I shall endeavor to nourish my parents, to support my family, to be the chaste husband of one wife, — but these relations I must fill after a new and unprecedented way. I appeal from your customs. I must be myself. I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, we shall be the happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me and the heart appoints. If you are noble, I will love you; if you are not, I will not hurt you and myself by hypocritical attentions. If you are true, but not in the same truth with me, cleave to your companions; I will seek my own. I do this not selfishly but humbly and truly. It is alike your interest, and mine, and all men's, however long we have dwelt in lies, to live in truth. Does this sound harsh to-day? You will soon love what is dictated by your nature as well as mine, and if we follow the truth it will bring us out safe at last.' — But so may you give these friends pain. Yes, but I cannot sell my liberty and my power, to save their sensibility. Besides, all persons have their moments of reason, when they look out into the region of absolute truth; then will they justify me and do the same thing.

The populace think that your rejection of popular standards is a rejection of all standard, and mere antinomianism; and the bold sensualist will use the name of philosophy to gild his crimes. But the law of consciousness abides. There are two confessionals, in one or the other of which we must be shriven. You may fulfil your round of duties by clearing yourself in the direct, or in the reflex way. Consider whether you have satisfied your relations to father, mother, cousin, neighbor, town, cat and dog — whether any of these can upbraid you. But I may also neglect this reflex standard and absolve me to myself. I have my own stern claims and perfect circle. It denies the name of duty to many offices that are called duties. But if I can discharge its debts it enables me to dispense with the popular code. If any one imagines that this law is lax, let him keep its commandment one day.

And truly it demands something godlike in him who has cast off the common motives of humanity and has ventured to trust himself for a taskmaster. High be his heart, faithful his will, clear his sight, that he may in good earnest be doctrine, society, law, to himself, that a simple purpose may be to him as strong as iron necessity is to others!

If any man consider the present aspects of what is called by distinction society, he will see the need of these ethics. The sinew and heart of man seem to be drawn out, and we are become timorous, desponding whimperers. We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons. We want men and women who shall renovate life and our social state, but we see that most natures are insolvent, cannot satisfy their own wants, have an ambition out of all proportion to their practical force and do lean and beg day and night continually. Our housekeeping is mendicant, our arts, our occupations, our marriages, our religion we have not chosen, but society has chosen for us. We are parlor soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate, where strength is born.

If our young men miscarry in their first enterprises they lose all heart. If the young merchant fails, men say he is ruined. If the finest genius studies at one of our colleges and is not installed in an office within one year afterwards in the cities or suburbs of Boston or New York, it seems to his friends and to himself that he is right in being disheartened and in complaining the rest of his life. A sturdy lad from New Hampshire or Vermont, who in turn tries all the professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Congress, buys a township, and so forth, in successive years, and always like a cat falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. He walks abreast with his days and feels no shame in not 'studying a profession,' for he does not postpone his life, but lives already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances. Let a Stoic open the resources of man and tell men they are not leaning willows, but can and must detach themselves; that with the exercise of self-trust, new powers shall appear; that a man is the word made flesh, born to shed healing to the nations; that he should be ashamed of our compassion, and that the moment he acts from himself, tossing the laws, the books, idolatries and customs out of the window, we pity him no more but thank and revere him; — and that teacher shall restore the life of man to splendor and make his name dear to all history.

It is easy to see that a greater self-reliance must work a revolution in all the offices and relations of men; in their religion; in their education; in their pursuits; their modes of living; their association; in their property; in their speculative views.

1. In what prayers do men allow themselves! That which they call a holy office is not so much as brave and manly. Prayer looks abroad and asks for some foreign addition to come through some foreign virtue, and loses itself in endless mazes of natural and supernatural, and mediatorial and miraculous. Prayer that craves a particular commodity, anything less than all good, is vicious. Prayer is the contemplation of the facts of life from the highest point of view. It is the soliloquy of a beholding and jubilant soul. It is the spirit of God pronouncing his works good. But prayer as a means to effect a private end is meanness and theft. It supposes dualism and not unity in nature and consciousness. As soon as the man is at one with God, he will not beg. He will then see prayer in all action. The prayer of the farmer kneeling in his field to weed it, the prayer of the rower kneeling with the stroke of his oar, are true prayers heard throughout nature, though for cheap ends. Caratach, in Fletcher's 'Bonduca,' when admonished to inquire the mind of the god Audate, replies, —

His hidden meaning lies in our endeavors;

Our valors are our best gods.

Another sort of false prayers are our regrets. Discontent is the want of self-reliance: it is infirmity of will. Regret calamities if you can thereby help the sufferer; if not, attend your own work and already the evil begins to be repaired. Our sympathy is just as base. We come to them who weep foolishly and sit down and cry for company, instead of imparting to them truth and health in rough electric shocks, putting them once more in communication with their own reason. The secret of fortune is joy in our hands. Welcome evermore to gods and men is the self-helping man. For him all doors are flung wide; him all tongues greet, all honors crown, all eyes follow with desire. Our love goes out to him and embraces him because he did not need it. We solicitously and apologetically caress and celebrate him because he held on his way and scorned our disapprobation. The gods love him because men hated him. 'To the persevering mortal,' said Zoroaster, 'the blessed Immortals are swift.'

As men's prayers are a disease of the will, so are their creeds a disease of the intellect. They say with those foolish Israelites, 'Let not God speak to us, lest we die. Speak thou, speak any man with us, and we will obey.' Everywhere I am hindered of meeting God in my brother, because he has shut his own temple doors and recites fables merely of his brother's, or his brother's brother's God. Every new mind is a new classification. If it prove a mind of uncommon activity and power, a Locke, a Lavoisier, a Hutton, a Bentham, a Fourier, it imposes its classification on other men, and lo! a new system. In proportion to the depth of the thought, and so to the number of the objects it touches and brings within reach of the pupil, is his complacency. But chiefly is this apparent in creeds and churches, which are also classifications of some powerful mind acting on the elemental thought of duty and man's relation to the Highest. Such is Calvinism, Quakerism, Swedenborgism. The pupil takes the same delight in subordinating every thing to the new terminology as a girl who has just learned botany in seeing a new earth and new seasons thereby. It will happen for a time that the pupil will find his intellectual power has grown by the study of his master's mind. But in all unbalanced minds the classification is idolized, passes for the end and not for a speedily exhaustible means, so that the walls of the system blend to their eye in the remote horizon with the walls of the universe; the luminaries of heaven seem to them hung on the arch their master built. They cannot imagine how you aliens have any right to see, — how you can see; 'It must be somehow that you stole the light from us.' They do not yet perceive that light, unsystematic, indomitable, will break into any cabin, even into theirs. Let them chirp awhile and call it their own. If they are honest and do well, presently their neat new pinfold will be too strait and low, will crack, will lean, will rot and vanish, and the immortal light, all young and joyful, million-orbed, million-colored, will beam over the universe as on the first morning.

2. It is for want of self-culture that the superstition of Travelling, whose idols are Italy, England, Egypt, retains its fascination for all educated Americans. They who made England, Italy, or Greece venerable in the imagination, did so by sticking fast where they were, like an axis of the earth. In manly hours we feel that duty is our place. The soul is no traveller; the wise man stays at home, and when his necessities, his duties, on any occasion call him from his house, or into foreign lands, he is at home still and shall make men sensible by the expression of his countenance that he goes, the missionary of wisdom and virtue, and visits cities and men like a sovereign and not like an interloper or a valet.

I have no churlish objection to the circumnavigation of the globe for the purposes of art, of study, and benevolence, so that the man is first domesticated, or does not go abroad with the hope of finding somewhat greater than he knows. He who travels to be amused, or to get somewhat which he does not carry, travels away from himself, and grows old even in youth among old things. In Thebes, in Palmyra, his will and mind have become old and dilapidated as they. He carries ruins to ruins.

Travelling is a fool's paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I see the Vatican and the palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go.

3. But the rage of travelling is a symptom of a deeper unsoundness affecting the whole intellectual action. The intellect is vagabond, and our system of education fosters restlessness. Our minds travel when our bodies are forced to stay at home. We imitate; and what is imitation but the travelling of the mind? Our houses are built with foreign taste; our shelves are garnished with foreign ornaments; our opinions, our tastes, our faculties, lean, and follow the Past and the Distant. The soul created the arts wherever they have flourished. It was in his own mind that the artist sought his model. It was an application of his own thought to the thing to be done and the conditions to be observed. And why need we copy the Doric or the Gothic model? Beauty, convenience, grandeur of thought and quaint expression are as near to us as to any, and if the American artist will study with hope and love the precise thing to be done by him, considering the climate, the soil, the length of the day, the wants of the people, the habit and form of the government, he will create a house in which all these will find themselves fitted, and taste and sentiment will be satisfied also.

Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole life's cultivation; but of the adopted talent of another you have only an extemporaneous half possession. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No man yet knows what it is, nor can, till that person has exhibited it. Where is the master who could have taught Shakspeare? Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or Washington, or Bacon, or Newton? Every great man is a unique. The Scipionism of Scipio is precisely that part he could not borrow. Shakspeare will never be made by the study of Shakspeare. Do that which is assigned you, and you cannot hope too much or dare too much. There is at this moment for you an utterance brave and grand as that of the colossal chisel of Phidias, or trowel of the Egyptians, or the pen of Moses or Dante, but different from all these. Not possibly will the soul, all rich, all eloquent, with thousand-cloven tongue, deign to repeat itself; but if you can hear what these patriarchs say, surely you can reply to them in the same pitch of voice; for the ear and the tongue are two organs of one nature. Abide in the simple and noble regions of thy life, obey thy heart, and thou shalt reproduce the Foreworld again.

4. As our Religion, our Education, our Art look abroad, so does our spirit of society. All men plume themselves on the improvement of society, and no man improves.

Society never advances. It recedes as fast on one side as it gains on the other. It undergoes continual changes; it is barbarous, it is civilized, it is christianized, it is rich, it is scientific; but this change is not amelioration. For every thing that is given something is taken. Society acquires new arts and loses old instincts. What a contrast between the well-clad, reading, writing, thinking American, with a watch, a pencil and a bill of exchange in his pocket, and the naked New Zealander, whose property is a club, a spear, a mat and an undivided twentieth of a shed to sleep under! But compare the health of the two men and you shall see that the white man has lost his aboriginal strength. If the traveller tell us truly, strike the savage with a broad-axe and in a day or two the flesh shall unite and heal as if you struck the blow into soft pitch, and the same blow shall send the white to his grave.

The civilized man has built a coach, but has lost the use of his feet. He is supported on crutches, but lacks so much support of muscle. He has a fine Geneva watch, but he fails of the skill to tell the hour by the sun. A Greenwich nautical almanac he has, and so being sure of the information when he wants it, the man in the street does not know a star in the sky. The solstice he does not observe; the equinox he knows as little; and the whole bright calendar of the year is without a dial in his mind. His note-books impair his memory; his libraries overload his wit; the insurance-office increases the number of accidents; and it may be a question whether machinery does not encumber; whether we have not lost by refinement some energy, by a Christianity, entrenched in establishments and forms, some vigor of wild virtue. For every Stoic was a Stoic; but in Christendom where is the Christian?

There is no more deviation in the moral standard than in the standard of height or bulk. No greater men are now than ever were. A singular equality may be observed between the great men of the first and of the last ages; nor can all the science, art, religion, and philosophy of the nineteenth century avail to educate greater men than Plutarch's heroes, three or four and twenty centuries ago. Not in time is the race progressive. Phocion, Socrates, Anaxagoras, Diogenes, are great men, but they leave no class. He who is really of their class will not be called by their name, but will be his own man, and in his turn the founder of a sect. The arts and inventions of each period are only its costume and do not invigorate men. The harm of the improved machinery may compensate its good. Hudson and Behring accomplished so much in their fishing-boats as to astonish Parry and Franklin, whose equipment exhausted the resources of science and art. Galileo, with an opera-glass, discovered a more splendid series of celestial phenomena than any one since. Columbus found the New World in an undecked boat. It is curious to see the periodical disuse and perishing of means and machinery which were introduced with loud laudation a few years or centuries before. The great genius returns to essential man. We reckoned the improvements of the art of war among the triumphs of science, and yet Napoleon conquered Europe by the bivouac, which consisted of falling back on naked valor and disencumbering it of all aids. The Emperor held it impossible to make a perfect army, says Las Casas, 'without abolishing our arms, magazines, commissaries and carriages, until, in imitation of the Roman custom, the soldier should receive his supply of corn, grind it in his hand-mill and bake his bread himself.'

Society is a wave. The wave moves onward, but the water of which it is composed does not. The same particle does not rise from the valley to the ridge. Its unity is only phenomenal. The persons who make up a nation to-day, next year die, and their experience dies with them.

And so the reliance on Property, including the reliance on governments which protect it, is the want of self-reliance. Men have looked away from themselves and at things so long that they have come to esteem the religious, learned and civil institutions as guards of property, and they deprecate assaults on these, because they feel them to be assaults on property. They measure their esteem of each other by what each has, and not by what each is. But a cultivated man becomes ashamed of his property, out of new respect for his nature. Especially he hates what he has if he sees that it is accidental, — came to him by inheritance, or gift, or crime; then he feels that it is not having; it does not belong to him, has no root in him and merely lies there because no revolution or no robber takes it away. But that which a man is, does always by necessity acquire; and what the man acquires, is living property, which does not wait the beck of rulers, or mobs, or revolutions, or fire, or storm, or bankruptcies, but perpetually renews itself wherever the man breathes. 'Thy lot or portion of life,' said the Caliph Ali, 'is seeking after thee; therefore be at rest from seeking after it.' Our dependence on these foreign goods leads us to our slavish respect for numbers. The political parties meet in numerous conventions; the greater the concourse and with each new uproar of announcement, The delegation from Essex! The Democrats from New Hampshire! The Whigs of Maine! the young patriot feels himself stronger than before by a new thousand of eyes and arms. In like manner the reformers summon conventions and vote and resolve in multitude. Not so, O friends! will the God deign to enter and inhabit you, but by a method precisely the reverse. It is only as a man puts off all foreign support and stands alone that I see him to be strong and to prevail. He is weaker by every recruit to his banner. Is not a man better than a town? Ask nothing of men, and, in the endless mutation, thou only firm column must presently appear the upholder of all that surrounds thee. He who knows that power is inborn, that he is weak because he has looked for good out of him and elsewhere, and, so perceiving throws himself unhesitatingly on his thought, instantly rights himself, stands in the erect position, commands his limbs, works miracles; just as a man who stands on his feet is stronger than a man who stands on his head.

So use all that is called Fortune. Most men gamble with her, and gain all, and lose all, as her wheel rolls. But do thou leave as unlawful these winnings, and deal with Cause and Effect, the chancellors of God. In the Will work and acquire, and thou hast chained the wheel of Chance, and shall sit hereafter out of fear from her rotations. A political victory, a rise of rents, the recovery of your sick or the return of your absent friend, or some other favorable event raises your spirits, and you think good days are preparing for you. Do not believe it. Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles.

1841

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企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

伟大的思想(第一辑)天才，舍我其谁？

（英汉双语）

［德］弗里德里希·尼采　著

R. J. 霍林代尔　英译　阎沛衡　汉译

中国出版集团

中国对外翻译出版公司

中文目录

瞧！这个人！

——天性，何以成就自我的价值？

序言

天才，舍我其谁？

机灵，岂但如此？

佳作，何以叠出？

天运，我自晓得！

真理的曙光

——铁锤，何以矫正以往的哲理？

箴言，足以抒怀！

贻误，独有四遭！

铁锤，为我代言！

返回总目录

瞧！这个人！

——天性，何以成就自我的价值？

序言

（一）

深知，为人类之前途提出一个最高的目标，乃是一件以往从未有过的事情，乃是一件刻不容缓的事情。于是，诠释鄙人，乃“何许人也”便是一件义不容辞的事情了。

其实，这本应是一个不言自明的道理，因为鄙人早已用赤裸裸的事实，回答了这个“何许人也”的问题。然而，问题在于：鄙人所负责任之重大同所处同辈之渺小，相去甚远，乃至于令人见所未见，闻所未闻。我活着，乃是靠我的信誉——或许，仅仅是因为某种“偏执”的原因，我——还活着？……或许，只需要向夏日里专程赴上恩加丁河谷的所谓“文化人士”之规劝妥协一下，承认鄙人已经故去便是了……于是，我这里便有了一种叛逆的义务——表现出某种违背自我意愿乃至天性的傲慢，并且就此宣布：听好！尼采便是尼采；最重要的是，不得与他人同日而语。

（二）

不过，尼采绝非凶神恶煞之鬼，亦非道德败坏之人——相反，他天生就是一个无神论者，并且始终都以善行为荣。在同辈之间，尼采似乎总能为此而自豪。尼采，乃是哲学家狄俄尼索斯的信徒；不过，他宁做性之狂者，不为圣之仁人。或许，你一定得读读这本论著——尼采以乐观而向上、和蔼而可亲的语言描述本来相互对立的局面，或许你会因此而折服——或许，舍此尼采别无选择。于是，我最终的承诺便只能是“改造”人类了。尼采并未树立新的偶像——只是让陈腐的偶像懂得泥塑的双腿意味着什么罢了。摒弃陈腐的偶像（并以此替代“理想”一词）——这，便是尼采所事之事。尼采深知：在人们塑造一个理想世界的同时，现实世界已经从某种程度上失去了它原有的价值和本来的意义——因而便丧失了其真实性……其实，谓“理念世界”和“表象世界”的区别，简言之，便是“人为世界”和“真实世界”之区别而已……足见，理念世界的谎言，始终都是对真实世界的诅咒——在这种谎言的包围中，人类自身的灵魂深处发生了扭曲——于是，他们的价值观被颠倒了——他们顶礼膜拜，提升未来，以为只有这样，才足以保证社会的繁荣、未来的美好——这，便是他们的权力。

（三）

一个懂得从鄙人著述中汲取营养的人，便知道那是一种顶级的营养，一种健康的营养。人，生来就需要这种营养，否则就会伤风感冒——因此，他绝无必要去冒这个风险。冰冷世界并不遥远，与世隔绝危险重重——但是，阳光下的万物却是平和幸福的——因为在这里，人可以自由地呼吸！您可知道，这意味着什么？——按照鄙人的理解和诠释，哲学，乃是一种甘愿在冰雪和大山中度过的生活，乃是一种对生活中一切未知和疑惑的追问——一种对一切为伦理学道德说教所排斥的理念的追寻。正是从这种对禁锢的惊诧中得来的长期经验，使尼采学会了寻找“道德”与“理想”之源的方法，并由此发现“道德”与“理想”同人们的期望相去甚远：哲学家们不为人所知的阅历，乃至他们伟大姓名背后的心路历程，在尼采面前一览无遗。一种精神能够承载多少真理？一种精神又敢于承载多少真理？这就逐渐成了鄙人用以测量真理“价值”的尺度。相信理想，是错误——虽不是盲目的，但却是懦弱的……每一次知识的获得，每一次知识的进步，都是勇敢的结果，严肃的结果，净化的结果……鄙人并不排斥什么“理想”，只想增强一下“理想”之免疫力罢了……“人们在禁锢中挣扎”〔1〕（奥维德语）——这便预示着，鄙人的哲学总有一天会获得成功，因为在真理面前，一切为理想主义原则所禁锢的东西都算不得什么。

（四）

在鄙人所有著述中，《扎拉图斯拉的独白》〔2〕堪称一枝独秀之作，是鄙人馈赠人类最富意义的礼物——因为人类从未接受过这样一个礼物：她，不仅是现存书籍中最能令人亢奋的著述，有顶好的营养——她，用一个穿越千年之声宣告——用全部的事实证明：人类脚下还有一段漫长的路途要走；而且，值得称道的是，从其问世的那一天起，便以其真理的含量无穷而著称——她，像一口取之不尽、用之不竭的水井，只要你将手中的吊桶放下去，便不愁没有金银财宝钓上来。这里，既不需要先知们的预见，也不需要宗教领袖们的提示——只要有病魔的“协助”和冲创意志〔3〕的提升便足够了。最重要的是，人们务必听清楚从扎拉图斯拉口中传来的声音——只要你不至于曲解它智慧的意味，她——简直就像一只“翠鸟”发出的乐音——“只有来自鸽子脚尖的——最平静的语言，才足以激活最激烈的暴风雨和最深刻的大思考——从而为世界导航——”

树上掉落的无花果最香甜——因为果实被擦破了红色的皮。我愿做一缕清凉的北风——催熟那香甜的无花果。

此时此刻，这里的劝导是否像香甜的无花果一般——掉落在您的身边？朋友：请吮吸它醉人的果汁，品尝它香甜的果实！秋天来了——秋高气爽，正是午后之天啊——

这里，没有盲目热衷的必要；这里，没有布道说教的场地；这里，没有信徒虔诚的戒律：无限充裕的阳光和无比深厚的幸福——一滴滴，一句句洒向人间——柔情而缓慢的步伐，恰似这轻盈话语的节奏。这些，都是精心挑选的结果——在这里，做一个静心的倾听者，那是一种无上的权益——没有人不可以自由地倾听扎拉图斯拉的独白……除非，扎拉图斯拉的独白——丧失了她诱人的魅力！……然而，一旦他再度回归独处的时候，他——又会说些什么呢？毫无疑问，即便在这种情况下——同任何“先哲”、“圣人”、“救世主”以及其他“颓废者”相反……他的话语是与众不同的，因为他——是与众不同的……

我，要独自离开了，我的拥护者们！你们，也得各自离开了！——好让我心安理得。

离开我吧，不要接受扎拉图斯拉的诱惑！最好是，以其为耻！或许，他已然骗过了你们。

须知——独有高明之士，必能取敌之长而避友之短也。

如果，一个学生总也无所进取，他又怎么能够回报恩师呢？如此，何不趁早摘掉这顶桂冠？

你，尊重我；但是，有一天你的尊重失去意义了，怎么办？切记！一尊眼看就要倒塌的塑像，是不会对人有死亡的威胁的。

你说，你相信扎拉图斯拉？那么，扎拉图斯拉的价值何在？你，是我的信徒：那么，信徒的价值又何在呢？

你，找到了我，却迷失了自我。所有的信徒都别无二致——所有的信仰都一文不值。

于是，我求你，放开我，去寻找自我；当所有的人都听信于你而背叛了我的那一刻，“余，乃可回归于汝”……

弗里德里希·尼采

当这一天到来的时候，一切都是那么地美好——葡萄串露出了棕色的脸蛋儿，生活中充满了阳光的气息儿：左看看，右瞧瞧，从未见过——这么多美好的事物一起涌现。我，绝没有埋葬过去的四十四个春秋；然而，这却是一件出乎意料的事情——当生命的冲动被唤醒的时候，生命的力量便会焕发出不朽的光芒。第一部《重估一切价值》、《扎拉图斯拉之歌》、《真理的曙光》——所有这些，都是献给这一年——甚至是这一年里最后一个季度的礼物！所图之事，不过借“铁锤”之力，敲醒沉睡之众而已。于是，一旦有感于生命的垂青——必然悦自我以生命的成功。

天才，舍我其谁？

（一）

我，运地活着，或许是命该如此——相信，不会有别的诠释了。如果用某种扑朔迷离的方式叙述，那便是：如果我是我的父亲，我已经死去；如果我是我的母亲，则我依然活着，且已然老迈年高。生与死，乃是生命的两极，分布在生命云梯的两端，一端最高，一端最低，一端已然颓废，一端还在延伸；如果还有什么中庸的方式可以借用，或者如果在生命的终极问题上仍有选择的余地，我便会说：正是这个中庸、这个余地成就了尼采——将尼采同其他所有的人区别开来。对于生命的升迁与堕落，尼采有常人不及的触觉，我深谙此道，是杰出的传道、授业、解惑之人——知晓升迁与堕落，因为曾经升迁与堕落。

我的父亲谢世之际，不过36岁而已：他讨人喜欢，体弱多病，注定成为这个世界的匆匆过客——与其说那是生命，不如说那只是对生命友善的提示罢了。也是在我36岁的那一年——就是在父亲谢世的那一年，我跌落到了人生的最低谷——我依然活着，只是连离我三步之遥的视野都跃不过去。那是在——1879年——我辞去了巴塞尔大学的教授职务，在圣莫里茨度过了那一年的夏天，又在瑙姆堡度过了随后的冬天，那是我人生中最灰暗的时光，过着隐君子一般的生活：《彷徨者和他的独居生活》，〔4〕便是这一时期的著述。毋庸置疑，在那些日子里我饱尝了独居的滋味儿……

第二年冬天，是我在意大利热那亚度过的第一个冬天——温和而甜蜜，超凡而脱俗。其实，这一切都是我撰写《黎明》所付出的心血带来的必然结果。《黎明》的问世，带给我光明和兴奋，甚至带给我生机勃勃的精神力量——在我看来，这一切恰恰是生理上的极度亏欠，乃至精神上的无限痛楚所换来的补偿。在经历那些痛苦的过程中，我遭受了连续三天三夜的头痛，同时遭遇了难以忍受的痰喘折磨——然而，这一时期，我却多有超常的思维能力，处理问题坚决果断，毫不迟疑。相反，在我健康状况稍好的时候，我却不够野心勃勃，不够缜密，不够干脆。或许，只有我的那些读者们才知道我是如何将辩证法视为颓废的征兆的，最有说服力的情形——莫过于对待苏格拉底的那个例子了。至于，那些原本影响智力的病魔，乃至由发烧引起的半昏迷状态，为什么足以引起我思维的神奇变化——所有这些，对我来说至今仍然是个“谜”。为了弄清那些病魔的性质及其发生的规律，我首度求诸于学究的方法。

我的心脏，总是跳动得很慢，因而从来没有医生诊断出我发高烧的病症来。有位大夫，甚至一度将我当作精神病人来对待，可临了，他却说：“不！不是你的精神出了问题，而是我的神经出了差错！”其实，身体局部的任何病变都可能失去其症状的。比如，过度疲劳，就会引起消化功能的极度衰退，从而引起胃部的病变，但是却不至于会有什么生理器官表现出胃病的症状来。有时，眼睛的症状会严重到接近失明的地步，但是这不过是病变的过程而已，并非病变的原因所在：因此，一旦其他生命指数得以提高，视力就会随之得以恢复。

——对我而言，病了又好了，好了又病了，这样的事，简直像一条年年不断的锁链一样——更为不幸的是，这里还同时伴随着旧病的复发和新病的恶化，的确颇有几分像颓废的周期性发生一般。至此，我所亲身遭遇的颓废情节，还需要更多的补充吗？我以为，我已经彻彻底底地交代清楚了。而且，可以毫不夸张地说，从整体把握事物的微妙技术到通过直觉发现细微差别的能力，从“明察秋毫”的心理战术到所有决定我性格特质的生理规律，我都是在这一时期里学来的。换言之，正是在这一时期，我的一切——观察能力及其感觉系统，都变得更加敏感、精微和周到——所有这些，都是这一特殊的时期所赋予我的特异禀赋。如果从病理学的视角上考察这些相对健康的价值和观念，同时又从相反的视角上将充裕而有保障的富人生活看作是人类本能颓废的秘密所在——那么，这些便是尼采所着力最多的地方，也是尼采阅历所独到的特殊领域——在这个特殊的领域中，尼采乃是绝对的大师。于是，尼采便具备了逆转乾坤的资质和能力：或许，惟有在尼采的眼中，这便是“重估价值”的可能性所在，也是“重估价值”的首要理由所存。

（二）

如果忽略了尼采颓废的一面，尼采便会立刻站到颓废者的对立面去。对此，这里的证据是，在同病魔抗争时，尼采总会本能地选择对自己有益的方式，而在同样的情况下，对于颓废者来说，却总会选择对他们有害的方式。总体而言，我是健康的；局部而论，我又是虚弱的。从自己所习惯的生活环境中绝对地脱离出来，并且坚持不再接受照顾、伺候和家庭医生的护理——这样就脱离了对本能的无条件依赖，从而懂得了什么才是当时最重要的东西。由于对自身了如指掌，即便在颓废之际，我也能够自己让自己健康起来：做到这一点的先决条件——任何生理学家都不会排斥的——便是你的身体基本上是健康的。一个通常多病的身体是健康不起来的，自然也就难以再使自己健康起来了；相反，对于一个通常健康的身体，生病反而会成为他生命的精神兴奋剂，从而使其生命力更加旺盛。事实上，我那一段长时期的病情，对自己的健康来说似乎正是如此：我发现自己的生活新鲜了许多，甚至连我自身的状态也改变了许多——我用他人难得的方式品味着生活中所有美好的事物乃至无足轻重的小事——所凭借的无非是向往健康的意愿，无非是憧憬生命的意志——一言以蔽之，无非是尼采生命哲学的力量……

值得注意的是：正是在那些生命处于低潮的岁月里，我摒弃了悲观厌世的情绪，才没有沿着这个路子滑下去：对于我而言，正是自我恢复的本能使我的生活信念免于向贫乏而悲观的方向滑落……那么，一个人成功的秘诀是什么？一个成功人士给我们的感觉是舒服的——他，好似一块神奇的木材整体雕琢而成，看上去——坚硬、雅致而香气扑鼻；他，只品读对身心有益的事和物——一旦什么地方对身心有益的奢侈超越了他的限度，尼采决不涉足庆幸和享用；总为治病疗伤而预言，常化恶遇劣境为契机——只要不被恶劣的境遇所击溃，他便会十足地坚强。在所见、所闻和所历中，他本能地汇集了如下的结论：他有自己取舍的原则，他能抵御许多，许多。无论是在阅览书籍，还是在游历盛景，或者在审度人群，他永远都守候着自己的大本营：然而，只要他选准了，只要他认可了，只要他相信了，他都会肃然起敬。

对外界刺激的反应，他总是迟钝的——正是这种反应的迟钝，造成了他性格上的过于谨慎和妄自尊大——当一个刺激物向他袭来时，他总是先要间接地试探，从来都不会迎上去直接面对刺激对象。他从不相信“厄运”和“罪孽”：相反，他却懂得如何回避那些负面的东西——然而，只要是对他发展有益的事物，他总会毫不迟疑地勇敢面对。足见，他绝非什么颓废之人；相反，他总是站在颓废的对立面——至此，他已经将自己的形象勾勒得够清晰了。

（三）

我以为，能有这样一位父亲，乃是我得天独厚的人缘：父亲在奥登堡宅邸生活了几年之后，做了牧师，那是在他生命中最后几年里的事情；他在当地布道时，听人说，天使应该就是父亲那个样子。由此，我便涉足了种族问题的探究。原来，鄙人乃是波兰的贵族出身，且没有半点的混血成分，压根儿就不是什么德意志人。而当我考证我那些尊贵的对立面时，其卑微的血统是谁都难以预测的，（比如）我总觉得母亲和姐姐的血脉同下等人有关，这一点对我圣洁的血统简直是一种亵渎。时至今日，我想起母亲和姐姐给我的待遇时，心中仍然充满了极端的憎恶——这种极端的感觉常常是难以言说的——在我身体最脆弱、最需要静养的时候，总觉得什么地方就好像偏偏安放了一台魔鬼般的机器一般——准确无误地工作着……每每在这样的场合，我总得使出全身的力气——就像抵御毒蛇的侵入一般……或许，种高度失衡的不和谐现象得从生理解剖学的视角上去介入，才足以解释得清楚……不过，我深信对“永久轮回”的深恶痛绝，是我打地狱中走过之后才得来的真实感觉——不过，这些全都是拜母亲和姐姐所赐了。——然而，即使作为一个波兰人，尼采的出生也是一个异乎寻常的返祖现象。不过，要弄清这个地球上曾经有过的、顶级高贵的种族的原始天性，何以达到鄙人一般的巅峰水准，或许人们还得追溯到几个世纪以前，才足以解决问题。

同当下一切贵族阶层的观念背道而驰，鄙人总有一个感觉，这个感觉至高无上而与众不同——当今年轻的德意志皇帝，连做鄙人的马车夫都是一种“荣誉”，还得看鄙人情愿不情愿授予他呢。不过，也有一个例外，我会感激我的同仁——我深怀感恩之心，也深谙此间之理。瓦格纳夫人科茜玛，无疑是出身最高贵的人。于是，我便不能不多说几句了，理查德·瓦格纳绝对是同我关系最密切的人……没有人可以跟他相提并论……在一个不可超越的意义上，一切流行的亲疏远近理念，在生理学上都是无稽之谈。可谁知道，罗马教皇如今仍然在经营这种子虚乌有的理念。人类是同父母关系最为疏远的动物——于是，认为同父母关系接近的观念，便沦为最极端、最庸俗的表现。越是高级的种族，越是需要追溯其起源，这样她便会集合更多的优点，保留更好的传统，储备更大的能量。最伟大的群体是最古老的种族：虽然鄙人并不完全知晓，但是古罗马尤利乌斯·恺撒，或许就是鄙人的祖先——或许，马其顿亚历山大（大帝），那个狄俄尼索斯酒神的化身，也跟鄙人有关……不信你瞧——就在鄙人写作的瞬间，邮递员便将狄俄尼索斯的智慧送达了鄙人的身边。

（四）

给自己树敌，这种玩意儿，鄙人从来不懂——即便在看来非常必要的情况下，鄙人也不会为自己树敌的——毫无疑问，这一点也得归功于鄙人的父亲。虽然看上去不大像基督的信徒，但是鄙人怎么也不会干出伤害自己的事情。人们可以任意设想鄙人的生活，但却很难（其实，只有一次）发现什么人对鄙人抱有恶意——不仅如此，或许人们还会表现出良多的善意呢……甚至，根据鄙人的经验，每一个人都会毫无例外地有过为个人利益辩护的阅历；鄙人能够驯服每一只狗熊，甚至还能使小丑们检点自己的行为。在巴塞尔文法学校任教的七年里，鄙人教授过（古）希腊语中最难理解的语法现象。即便如此，鄙人也从未惩罚过那里的学生；只要在鄙人班里学习过的学生，再懒的也能变得勤奋起来。平日里，总得经常处理一些意料之外的事情——如果只顾教书而不闻窗外之事，那么面对那些突如其来的事情，常常会令人措手不及。乐器毕竟是乐器，如果跑了调子，那一定是演奏乐器的人出了问题——如此，我真的该生一场病，如此便可避免跑调的问题，自然也省得那声音不堪入耳了。我常常听到“乐器们”的抱怨，说什么从来没有哪个器乐师能从它们身上弹出过最佳的音乐来……要说最好的器乐师，那便是非海因里希·冯·斯坦因莫属了，遗憾的是，他英年早逝。海因里希·冯·斯坦因，曾难得获此允准，在锡尔斯-玛利亚逗留过三天——他自称，并非为上恩加丁河谷而来。就在那短短的三天里，这位难得的高人，以他普鲁士小主人的全部冲动和毫无掩饰的激情，深深地涉入了瓦格纳风格的神秘世界——涉入了杜林音乐的精神天地而情不自拔，恰似凭借着狂风的威力一般，其乐音的余韵在天空中自由地翱翔，其本人也如虎添翼，一瞬间便飞黄腾达。不过，鄙人还得不断地提醒他，那是这里清爽空气的微妙功用，谁都会有同样的感觉，你不能高居于拜罗伊特6000英尺以外的天空而无视这个事实——然而，他偏偏就不信这个“邪”……如此也罢，因为我知道：即便大大小小的不端行为全都冲我而来，那也不是故意而来，至少不是恶意所致：相反，值得我抱怨的倒是许许多多的“善意”——却招致我生命中不少的“厄运”。鄙人的阅历足以令人怀疑一切所谓无私的动机，怀疑一切为了他人的“博爱”。在我看来，那便是一种软弱的表现，一种无力接受刺激的表现——只有在颓废者之间，怜悯才被呼作美德。对于那些施舍怜悯的人士，我的非难是：羞耻、敬畏乃至对距离的微妙感觉最容易迷惑他们，怜悯总有下民——乌合之众的味道，因而就会像粗俗的行为一样为他们所误解——而在某种情况下，施舍怜悯的手甚至会以直接侵入的方式葬送一个伟大的命运，破坏一个单独疗伤的疾体，剥夺一个人犯罪的权力。我以为，在高贵的德行中绝不应该包容怜悯的行为：在“扎拉图斯拉的诱惑”一节中，我创设了这样一个情节——由于痛苦的折磨他大声地呼叫，“怜悯”就像终极的罪孽袭击着他——引诱他走向堕落，背叛自我。于是，为了坚守自我——坚守崇高的使命，必须摆脱所谓无私行为中诸多低劣而短视的行为影响——这些行为的表现非常之活跃，因而要摆脱其恶劣的影响，对扎拉图斯拉来说乃是一个必由的考验——或许，乃是一个终极的考验——自然，那也是对其真实能力的最好证明了。

（五）

其实，从另一个视角上看，我——不过是父亲的翻版，不过是父亲过早谢世的生命延续而已。就像人们从来没有生活在平等的群体中一般，对他们而言，“补偿”就像平等权利一样高不可攀。因此，在大大小小冒犯自身权益的愚蠢行为发生在身边的时候，鄙人一概不采取什么反抗的手段、什么保护的措施——即便鄙人是有理的，也绝不以所谓正当防卫一类的行为进行反击。鄙人之所谓的补救办法是，在愚蠢行为发生之后，尽早递出一份投诉的状子：这样，周围的人们或许还会高看你一眼，以为那也是一种高级的补偿……打个比方说吧，假若我狼吞虎咽地吃下一瓶果酱，那一定是为了驱除胃里酸味儿一类的东西……于是，你便可以自信了——随他们去吧，反正鄙人总可以补救回来的：只要抓着机会，鄙人总会感谢那些“冒犯者”的，乃至于有时简直就是因为冒犯本身而感谢——或者，还可以找机会求助于“冒犯者”——这样，总比反过来帮他们的忙要体面一些吧……而且，在鄙人看来，即便是最粗俗的言辞、最鄙陋的信件也要比沉默寡言善解人意一些，实诚一些——因为，那些喜欢沉默而寡言的人常常是缺乏敏锐之见和礼貌之心的人；沉默便是反抗，而且将本来应该一吐为快的东西再吞噬下去，还会使人养成坏的习性——乃至于损坏了好端端的胃口。难怪，凡是沉默寡言的人都有消化不良的毛病。——人们总会看到的，尼采绝没有低估过“卤莽”的价值，因为此乃——迄今为止，在处理对立问题上最为仁义的方式了；于是，即便在当今优雅的举止中,“卤莽”——也当数最佳德行之一了。——要知道，对于一个足够富裕的人而言，犯错误或者被人家冤枉一类的事情，乃是一种幸运的遇合。假若上帝真的会光临人间，那么他唯一该做的事情不是别的，而是教会人家出错：人类所要承担的，不是惩罚，而是罪过——唯如是，上帝乃上帝也。

（六）

试图摆脱怨恨，却总是得益于怨恨——谁知道，这也是鄙人那些痼疾所带来的效应，乃至于鄙人终生都得感激涕零！然而，事情却并非那么简单：为了这个效应，你必须经历由至盛到至衰的生命历程。不管你得了什么样的疾病——只要在同病势、弱势相悖而行的情况下，体内原有的抗体——抵御或者抵抗病情的能力就会减弱。你会浑身疼痛难忍——却不知何以摆脱痛楚、何以应付痛楚、何以击退痛楚才是——总之，病魔缠身，无以脱体，以至于病入膏肓，连记忆力也会严重减退。体弱多病，原本就是一种怨恨。——对付它，患者唯有良药一剂——谓之俄罗斯之宿命论。须知，本宿命论乃是不由反抗的：一个信奉它的俄国士兵，一旦在战役中支撑不住，便会倒在雪中——不吃不喝，不受外物——不汲取任何养料——自然，最终便不再有生命的迹象……这种宿命论的最大欺骗性在于，它——不仅不会直接摧残人的意志，而且即便在你生命垂危之际，仍然能够延续你的生命；然而，这种宿命论的危害性却在于，仅仅通过降低人的新陈代谢功能——使之缓慢运作，最终麻醉人的意志。在逻辑上，如果给以上的流程再加上几个步骤，那么，人们就完全可以推测到：即便你被送进了坟墓，你——仍然可以再睡上几个礼拜……因为，人如果处处都得做出快速的反应，其生命就会枯竭，最终便会完全丧失肌体的反应能力：这便是宿命论的逻辑。其实，没有什么东西比怨恨更能消耗生命的火焰了。恼怒、对病魔的敏感、无以复仇的抱怨、欲望的失落、复仇的怒火、任何意义上的造孽——这些，对一个精疲力竭的人来说，无疑是对其反应最具副作用的因素：比如，它足以招致神经能量的快速消耗，同时导致病人排泄量增大，入胃胆汁多。怨恨，乃是患者的禁忌——患者的魔鬼；可悲的是，怨恨又是患者难以克制的情绪。——深谙此道者，莫过于那位渊博的生理学家——佛陀释迦牟尼了，他紧紧地抓住了人性的这个弱点。释迦的“宗教”，以见长于对怨恨的依赖而著称，不如呼做一个系统的“卫生术”便妥了，也省得人家将其同以怜悯著称的基督教混为一谈：为求心灵之自由，必得先求躯体之健康，这是不言而喻的。“以怨抱怨，怨重怨；以德抱怨，怨消怨”，这是释迦“卫生术”的第一条教义——它不是伦理学的说法，而是生理学的原理。——怨恨的天性是脆弱，因而到头来伤害最大的不是别人而是意志薄弱的怨天尤人者本人——相反，富裕的天性则是预设，而试图成为这种预设的主宰者，却几乎是所有富人的特征。其实，这是一种自作多情的表现。主张向复仇心理和报复行为作斗争——乃至于向“自由意志”论宣战，乃是鄙人全部哲学的逻辑——而反对基督教的斗争只是其中一次特殊的战役而已。只要懂得这一思想严肃性的人，便会明白正是在这些问题上，表现着鄙人个人的社会承担乃至于尼采人性哲学的实践意义。然而，在那些颓废的日子里，鄙人只能将所有这些，视若有害的东西而不得已远离它们；而当生活变得充裕并值得骄傲的时候，尼采又将它们置于脑后而暂时忘却它们。多年来，所谓“俄罗斯宿命论”之于鄙人，总是一旦抓住机会——而且，几乎总是在痛楚难熬的时间和地点，总是在疼痛难忍的住所里和人群中，紧紧地缠着鄙人不放——还好，不必改变它们，也不必为它们所改变——更不必固执地反抗它们……奇怪得很，在那些日子里，时而自己好似已为宿命论所击败，时而自己又似乎还在宿命论的包围中挣扎，并企图拼命地苏醒过来——谁知道，每一次这样的试探，都是一件冒着生命危险的事情。——认命，不再奢望自身的“改变”？——这里，一切都是对理性的挑战。

（七）

至于战争，却是另一码事。鄙人，天性好战，本能好攻。能够与人为敌，成为他人的敌人——或许，是需要某种与生俱来的天性作为其强悍的支撑的；换言之，强悍的天性在任何情况下，都足以成为“与人为敌”的必要条件。强悍的天性需要耐力的支持，因此必须培养耐力：好战企图的必要性之于强者，恰如报复与复仇心理之于弱者，这是自不待言的。比如，女人的报复心理，是以其柔弱的生理条件为前提的，正如她们对别人的同情心是以其心理上的敏感性为条件的一般。——同样，一个好攻的强者必定以力量为前提，而且必须达到一定的标准；每一次力量的增强都意味着就对手或者问题的一次挑战：对一个好战的哲学家来说，同样有一个挑战的问题，才能与劲敌决斗。决斗即便征服了对手，也绝非单凭耐力便可以奏效，需要以全部的力量、坚韧的毅力以及驾驭武器的能力通览全局，才足以在势均力敌的情况下克敌制胜……而一场势均力敌的决斗，其先决条件是，它——必须是一场正当的决斗。鄙视战争的人，是不会发动战争的；而指挥战争乃至于认为战争有损于尊严的人是不必不发动战争的。根据鄙人的经验，兹就战事的规则提出如下四条建议。首先，鄙人主张只攻击战绩显赫的目标——在特殊情况下，还可以待到对方战绩显赫时再进行攻击。其次，鄙人主张只攻击孤立的或者尚未结成同盟的目标，以便各个解决——一旦招致失败，还可以进退两便……决不在敌众我寡、敌勇我疲的情况下作战：这便是鄙人不战则已，战则必胜的原则。再次，鄙人决不主张实行个人攻击——对于个人，鄙人只将他们用作放大镜一般的工具，以便探知那些难以察明且形显而实隐的危险战情。那便是鄙人击败大卫·斯特劳斯的战术，准确地说那便是鄙人取胜于德意志老年修养术的诀窍——正是鄙人当场揭穿了那种修养术的秘密……那也是鄙人取胜于瓦格纳的秘诀，准确地说那便是鄙人揭穿西方“文化”之虚伪乃至将精明与富裕、后期与伟大混为一谈之混血天性的妙方。最后，鄙人主张只抨击那些抛开不良背景不谈、排除个性区别不论的事与物。其实，就鄙人而言，攻击乃是为了求证善意，在特殊情况下，乃是为了表达感恩。只要将鄙人的名字同一个人、一件事联系在一起，鄙人都会引以为荣，都会倍觉骄傲：无论这个人是志同道合之辈还是离经叛道之流——于尼采，则全然无足轻重。果真向基督教宣战，鄙人是有这个权利的，因为在反对基督教义的征途上鄙人从未经历过失意的事情——即便是顶级虔诚的基督徒，也能同鄙人和平相处。于是，作为基督强制教议的敌对者，鄙人绝不会因世纪的命运问题，而对一个特定的个体〔5〕怀恨在心。

（八）

这里，还得冒昧介绍鄙人性格上的最后一个特点，因为正是这一点造成了鄙人同他人交往中不小的麻烦。好洁净，乃鄙人与生俱来的脾性——甚至可以说是一种非常离奇的癖好，致使鄙人的生理感觉——嗅觉——近似于……或是……怎么说呢？——对于人体内部的各类构件——内脏的每一个细微部分……鄙人均能借助于一个敏感的生理触觉——深入并且探知其每一个角落的秘密：所有隐藏在灵魂深处的丑陋东西——无论是先天血统的遗传或是后天教育的禀赋，只要通过一次直接的接触，鄙人几乎都可以准确地觉察出来。如果这些觉察是正确的，洁癖的嗅觉就会对其所觉察到的东西产生本能的抵触，而相应的大脑器官则会小心翼翼地对其做出厌恶的反应——于是，它们便绝不会错误地发出芬芳扑鼻的味道来……就这样，习惯养成了自然——一个对环境苛刻的要求便成了我生命中不可缺少的元件，舍此——在一个肮脏的环境中，我便无法生存——足见，鄙人只能在清澈的水中，或是在近乎透明、发光的自然环境中游弋、沐浴和嬉戏。由于这一癖好，在同他人相处时，鄙人务必持有极大的耐性；于是，鄙人的博爱，便不仅要表现在宽容中同他人相处，还得表现在忍受中同别人交流……博爱，简直是一个对鄙人长期自持能力的考验。——好在，鄙人常常需要与世隔绝，换言之——鄙人得恢复健康，回归自我，还得呼吸一点儿自由、轻松而愉悦的空气……整部《扎拉图斯拉的独白》，就是一首关于独居生活或是对“与世隔绝”的赞歌或是狂想曲什么的——或者不如直接说，《扎拉图斯拉的独白》就是一首关于“洁癖”的赞美诗……但愿：它绝不是在赞美白痴。——只要不是色盲的人，都能辨别得出——它是一颗璀璨钻石。——见不得人类，见不得“乌合之众”，乃是鄙人人性中最大的弱点——因为，它会招来人生最大的危险……如此，君——可还祈望聆听——《扎拉图斯拉的独白》，以资赎回那些“见不得”的代价？

我，怎么了？怎么才能摆脱那“见不得”的窠臼？谁，足以使我双眼复明？怎么才能飞往那理想的高度——那里，“乌合之众”不再坐上法官的席位？

诸多的“见不得”，可曾为我插上飞翔的翅膀？可曾为我增添潜水的能量？——没错，我得飞至巅峰，以便再一次——找到欢乐的源泉。

哦，我找到啦，我的兄弟们！这里就是巅峰！瞧！欢乐的泉水，正向我涌来！生命的泉水，不再有乌合之众的玷污。

欢乐的泉水啊，您不必过于性急！因为，在斟满水杯的同时，常常会倾到水杯。

我，小心翼翼地向您靠近：心，依然向您飞去，不过，也显得过于性急：——

我的心，像火热的夏天，短暂，滚烫，忧郁而过于乐观：我的心，像炎热的夏天，渴望——那泉水带来的清凉！

春天里，缠绵的苦恼，随和风而离去！六月里，多情的怨恨，像雪花一样飘去！我，全然地来到了夏天——炎热的仲夏——

——巅峰的夏日，伴之以清凉的泉水，随之以天堂的静谧：来吧，朋友！静谧将带来良多的福分！

这里是我们的巅峰，里是我们的家园：在这里，我们超然物外，让宵小之辈望尘莫及。

朋友，快将你纯洁的目光投向这欢乐的源泉！别担心——它闪烁的光华会黯然失色！否则，它纯洁的秉性会嘲笑你——胆量不足。

在未来的大树上，我们将筑好自己的“家”：孤独时，雄鹰必定会衔着食物飞来！

不错，宵小之辈哪能享得了这种福份？——因为，吃了这里“火”，便会烧坏了他们的“胃”。

不错，我们没有在这里为宵小之辈们预留他们的“窝”！我们的福窝，便是他们的冰窖——必定会冻坏了他们的“灵”与“肉”。

让我们像疾风一般，傲居在宵小之辈的头顶之上——以雄鹰为伴，以冰雪为邻，在阳光的沐浴中生活——那便是疾风生命的轨迹。

像疾风一般——总有一天，我会穿梭于宵小之辈的腰间与背上，用我的精神窒息他们的呼吸——总有一天，我会实现自己的夙愿。

不错，扎拉图斯拉就是一股强劲的疾风——它将吹遍地球上所有的角落；它将告诫对手及其所有以唾沫伤人的人：尔等小心为妙，不得迎风而唾！……

机灵，岂但如此？

（一）

论智力，总比别人多根筋；论机灵，总比别人多根弦——诸如此类的问题，总也不曾少打搅人。不过，对于那些没什么实际意义的问题，那些无聊的事情——鄙人从不白费工夫去考虑、去涉猎便是了——譬如，鄙人从不涉足什么宗教难题之类的破烦事儿。至于，像在何种意义上，人应该有什么“伏罪”感之类的问题，鄙人便全然不知所以了。同样，鄙人更没有什么良心自责一类的内疚可言：什么扪心自问，哪来的道听途说——对此，鄙人毫无敬意可言……不过，这里实不该留一手，以便后发制人——宁愿当场将邪恶的结果揭露于世，并从价值观上剖析邪恶的过程，这才是鄙人做事的原则。因为，一旦知道了邪恶的结果，人们便会怀疑他们所做过的事情：在鄙人看来，所谓良心的自责，实际上是一种相信邪恶的心理反应。越是错了，越是要提醒自己错了，这便是一种自我尊重——换言之，这便是符合尼采伦理学原则的做法。什么“上帝”，什么“灵魂不死”，什么“赎罪”，什么“来世”——对于这些观念，鄙人从来都没有兴趣，也没有时间去理睬它们，鄙人从小就是这个脾气——或许，对付这一类事情，鄙人从来都不敢“孩子气”十足的！据说，无神论者是主张理性之推理的，而对于事实的本身他们并不在乎。对于这些，鄙人全然不知：这，显然也是鄙人的天性所致了。尼采好奇、尼采多疑、尼采目空一切，那些不成熟的结论，从来都不能满足尼采的胃口。譬如，信奉上帝，便是一个不成熟的结论——一个同思想家的观念背道而弛的粗率结论——乃至在本质上，便是对思想家们的一个赤裸裸的禁令：不许你们思考！……按照神学家们的诠释，“拯救人类”的不是别的——而是他们的奇谈怪论，这是一个异乎寻常的说法：是一个关于人类“精神”营养的问题，对此鄙人便不能不发生极大的兴趣。为了方便起见，按照常规我们可以这样设想：“为了获得最大的体力、最好的文艺复兴时期的艺术品、最为脱俗的德行，人们该怎样修炼自己呢？”——在这些方面，鄙人的经验简直贫乏极了；鄙人接触这类问题太晚，无从尽快获得经验，对于这一点，连我自己也感到惊讶。唯有一文不值的德意志教育——及其“理想主义”——可以从某种程度上解释为什么偏偏在这一点上，鄙人怎么也赶不上“教皇”的要求。这种“教育”，从一开始就教导鄙人忽略现实，一味地追逐虚无缥缈的、“理想”的人生目标。譬如，德意志的“古典教育”就是一个例子——似乎，企图将“古典”和“德意志”从概念上合而为一，并不是一件毫无收获的事情！再说，一个生活在现代社会的莱比锡人，却得接受古典式的德意志教育，这难道不是一件滑稽可笑的事情吗？！——说老实话，为了赎回厨师和那些基督教徒们的面子，鄙人从小到大都没吃过几顿像样的饭——按照所谓伦理学的术语说，那便是“非我主义”、“忘我主义”、“利他主义”等等。然而，正是在莱比锡人膳食的陪伴下，鄙人完成了早期的叔本华研究（1865年），而且认真地改变了自己的“生命意愿”。以伤害自己的胃口为代价，去接受一种不合时宜的营养观念——在鄙人看来，上述的烹调术足以圆满地回答这个问题了。那么，一般意义上的德意志烹调术——在什么地方昧了它的良心呢？！

餐前羹——直到十六世纪，在威尼斯食谱中依然含有“去德意志”的意思；肉片，油面菜；（镇纸压制的）变质布丁！如此食谱，如果用上古兽性十足的餐饮方式用膳，那就绝不仅仅是古德意志人才了解德意志精神的渊源了——此，乃伤肠害胃之道也……德意志精神是一种食古不化的典型，谁也对付不了。——不过，相对于德意志乃至法兰西的饮食习惯，英吉利的饮食习惯则大有“回归天性”或是“同类相餐”的味道——不管怎样，鄙人的胃口是受不了的；在鄙人看来，这似乎像在精神的躯体上添加了一双沉重的脚丫——一双英吉利女人的脚丫……不过，最佳的饮食习惯，大概要算是皮德蒙特人的了。

鄙人，不善用酒；一杯红酒或是啤酒下肚，都足以让我一整天都在“云里雾里”度过——那是谁都不情愿做的事情。懂得这一点，虽然迟了一些，——可经历这一点，却是鄙人从孩提时起就有过的事。就像抽烟一般，小时候只觉得喝酒不过是青少年轻狂的举止而已，后来不知不觉地便养成了喝酒的坏习惯。得到如此严肃的教训，或许还是拜瑙姆堡葡萄酒所赐呢。果真相信喝酒会使人精神振奋起来的话，说不定鄙人早已变成一个基督徒了——那便是让鄙人去相信连自己都以为是最荒唐的事儿。不过，奇怪的是，只要少许饮用一点度数很低的烈酒，自己都会感到浑身不自在；如果再稍稍地多来一点儿，那便足以令人晕头转向了。

然而，在写作方面，鄙人——却从小便表现出非凡的意志来——雄心勃勃，笔耕不辍，立志模仿偶像塞勒斯特〔6〕严谨而简明的写作风格。为了用拉丁文写就一篇巨制论文，尼采常常会伏案写作，彻夜不眠，之后还得接着将文中的内容写成报道材料，以备报刊发表之用；而且，文章脱稿之后，还得在写好的拉丁论文上涂一层顶好的保护膜，以防文本损坏。这些事儿，在鄙人还是著名的

（舒尔）普福塔〔7〕中学学生的时候，就开始做了。或许，这些都同鄙人的生理学观念直接相关；或许，并不见得同塞勒斯特的生理学观念有所相悖——尽管这同（舒尔）普福塔中学的办学理念在很大程度上是不相吻合的……说实话，直至后来人到中年的时候，鄙人才从严格意义上远离了任何“高酒精成分的”饮料；但是，因为在生活经验上反对素食主义，鄙人便不能郑重其事地劝诫那些超凡脱俗的人们滴酒不沾。这一点，或许同理查德·瓦格纳只能改变鄙人志趣而不能改变鄙人志向的道理是一样的。水足以满足人的各种需要……，因而谁都喜欢住在处处都有清泉流动的地方（如尼斯、都灵、锡尔斯等地）；一杯清泉之水，会像一只爱犬一般每每陪伴在你的身边——那是多么惬意！常言道“酒后吐真言”：然而，在这一点上——关于什么是“真言”的问题，鄙人又该同世界较真儿了——在鄙人这里，“真言”是像流水一般运动的……这里的教训足以给人们更多的启示。

谁知道？一次盛宴要比一顿素餐容易消化得多。消化良好的前提是，胃口的各项功能都能协调发挥。首先，你得知道你胃口的大小——为了避免消化不良，你得回避那些单调乏味、耗时过多的聚餐，这里不妨名之曰“间歇式献祭宴会”，就像那些旅馆或者饭店中的客饭席一般的小宴会。——两餐之间，不用零食，不喝咖啡——咖啡会使你忧郁、沮丧、不振作。早晨用茶，好处最多，量不必大，味却得浓：沏茶过淡，不利健康，甚至会让人整天都面带病容，萎靡不振。万事、万物皆有度，恰倒好处最难得。天气不佳时，早晨便不宜用茶了：只需在平日用茶时间的前一个小时，喝上一杯浓浓的去脂可可茶便可以了。——小坐；不必幻想户外会有气象万千，因为思绪若不定，筋骨便不安。偏见，无不源自人体内部。——得静心，得用功——前文曾有涉及——独与“圣灵”相对立，实乃罪过也。

（二）

跟营养问题最接近的，自然是地理和气候问题了。对于居住之地，谁都不能没有自己的选择；可是，就一个肩负使命的人而言，他得付出九牛二虎之力才足以了事，因为对这类人而言，居住之地的挑选余地，实在是太小了。譬如，他们得考虑那里的气候是不是会影响其新陈代谢的节奏问题——会减慢，还是会加快？甚至，连同居住点和气候状况相关的大大小小的问题全都要考虑进去——因为任何一次不经意的疏漏，都可能使他们疏远自己的工作，甚至还可能使他们终身放弃自己的社会职责：当然，他们自己也可能从来都没有意识到这一点——生命的活力，为什么不足以使其得心应手地从事自己所熟悉的智力工作呢？在这方面，又是非鄙人莫属了……不过，在鄙人看来，单单一个新陈代谢的节奏问题还是微不足道的，因为它——还不至于酿成一种不良的积习，乃至将一位天才人物变成一个庸碌之辈——一个“德意志”般的庸才；或许，惟有德意志的天气，才足以降低强健而神奇的五脏功能。新陈代谢的节奏，同一个人精神气质的动与静有着密切的关系；其实，精神本身就是新陈代谢的一种反映。如果我们将这些不同的反映，用表格的方式排列出来，就会发现有的地方适宜于居住或者居住过天才，有的地方适宜于居住将智慧、精明、谋略看作幸福的人，有的地方则总是适宜于天才们安家：而且，他们总是各得其所。巴黎、普罗旺斯、弗洛伦萨、耶路撒冷、雅典——这些地名都足以告诉人们：天高气爽、万里无云的地方，乃是天才的摇篮——换言之，快节奏的新陈代谢——汲取无穷能量的几率才是孕育天才的先决条件。曾经有过这样一个例子，有一位本应成为重量级人物的自由人士，最终却竟然成了一个心胸狭窄、孤陋寡闻、脾气暴躁的家伙，其原因不过是由于缺乏感觉的本能性灵敏，而选择了气候不宜的居住地点而已。幸亏病魔让鄙人变得理智而聪慧，并且学会了用推理的方式辨别现实，否则便难保鄙人也会遭此下场。如今，经由长期的实际磨练，鄙人已经能够像从一台精确而可靠的气象仪器上读数一样，说出各地气候的基本情况来。甚至，在短途的旅行中，鄙人还能够根据自身的生理体验，觉察出空气湿度的变化来，譬如从都灵到米兰的旅程中就是这样。

想起近十年不可思议的生活来，我至今还会后怕。那十年，是我生命的危险期，生活在一个与生命需要根本不相适宜的地方——自然，肯定是一个选错了的地方。瑙姆堡、（舒尔）普福塔、图林根、莱比锡、巴塞尔、威尼斯——就鄙人身体的生理状况而言，这些都是命中不该去的地方。

至于，童年和青年时期，是根本不值得回忆的，而如果将这些都归咎于所谓道德教育的缘故，那就未免太愚蠢了——譬如，鄙人没有志同道合的伙伴，这是无可非议的：因为，至今鄙人仍然没有志同道合者相随，或许永远都不会有，可是这些还不至于妨碍鄙人勇敢无畏、兴高采烈地生活。不懂生理学——憎恶“理想主义”——是鄙人生命中两个无以回避的致命弱点，其中有冗余的东西，也有愚蠢的表现，二者都不是善举，因为它们既无以补偿，又无从反驳。

所有人生中的失误，乃至所有致使离开人生目标的本性和态度上的变化，鄙人都将它们看作是“理想主义”所招致的后果。譬如，在鄙人为什么会成为一位语文学家的问题上——或许，有人会说，尼采起码可以成为一位内科医生或是别的什么足以惊人耳目的人物，为什么没有呢？等等。在巴塞尔大学的那些日子里，鄙人的精力非常充沛，但是鄙人的整个精神生活，却是一塌糊涂的——生命的意义何在，从不考虑，从不反省；在每天的时间安排上，全是重复性的内容，从来都不会用什么别的内容替换那些重叠的东西。不过，那时候却没有什么肮脏的自私心理，也没有什么所谓发自本能的自我保护意识什么的——可以说人人都是平等的，一切都是“无私”的，一切都是“忘我”的——然而，到头来，这些却都成了鄙人永远也不能原谅自己的地方。差一点儿，没走到生命的尽头，因为差一点儿，便到了生命的终点——就这样，尼采便开始反省那些生命中本来就不合理的东西——“理想主义”。谢天谢地！——是“病魔”将我带上了——回归真实世界的路。——

（三）

一是，选择养分；二是，选择气候和居地；三则，必定是选择一种修身养性的方式了——这样，人生就不至于再犯大大小小的毛病了。所有这些，对于自成一类的人物来说，要求便会更苛刻一些；然而，就他们本身的利益而言，却会更有用一些。就鄙人而言，广泛的阅读乃是自我修养的方式之一：因此，凡能给鄙人自由的书籍，凡能让鄙人在奇怪的学科和思想之间闲庭信步的书目——总之，凡此种种都是鄙人阅读的对象——不过，鄙人倒不必将它们过于当真。准确地说，正是广泛的阅读，将鄙人从一本正经的较真中解救了出来。平日里，在埋头工作的时候，鄙人身边是不留书的：也不允许任何人在身边说话，甚至连在身边思考问题也不行。然而，这正是我阅读的奥妙之所在……读者可曾注意到，在大脑高度集中的状态下，整个思维乃至整个肌体都处于一个精神酝酿的过程之中，任何偶发事件、任何外部的刺激都会对主体构成一个意外的刺激——都会引起主体一个意外的反应。于是，主体必须尽可能避免任何突发的事件、任何强烈的刺激；筑起一道自我保护的壁垒，乃是培养灵感——孕育精神的本能的、明智的策略之一。那么，要不要特许某个奇异的思想，悄然地爬过这个自我保护的壁垒呢？——毋须讳言，这便是阅读的初衷了……劳动与收获同修身与养性，应当交替而行，轮换而做：因为同修身养性为伴的是快乐，是智慧，是智慧的结晶——书！然者，是德意志的书吗？……这，便得从半年前打鄙人手上滑过的一本书说起。那是一本什么书呢？——那是维克托·布罗夏德的一项研究成果，其书名是《古希腊怀疑论者（研究）》，其中引用了鄙人《第欧根尼·拉尔修论集》〔8〕中的不少观点。在两重和五重（歧义）模糊哲学中，古希腊的怀疑论是唯一值得尊崇的哲学思想！……否则，鄙人大概就会永远在几本（数量的确不多）同类的书中周旋，也只能仅对这类书籍的内容了如指掌了。或许，鄙人生性不愿多读、滥读：如果老是闷在书房里自会受不了的。鄙人生来也不愿多爱、泛爱：对于新书，鄙人的态度是——与其“忍”着读，放心看，或者存点儿敬意耐心看，倒不如小心一点儿，乃至敌对一些的好，……说真的，在古典法兰西作家中，只有位数不多的几个，值得人们爱不释读：鄙人仅笃信法兰西文化，并且认为将所有欧洲的东西全都称之为“文化”乃是一个误会，更不必提德意志文化了……在德意志的文化高人中，鄙人所知者并不多，而且究其根底，他们还都是曾经受过法兰西文化熏陶的人。首屈一指的，自然是瓦格纳夫人科茜玛了——她嗓音的天资，的确是一流的。鄙人虽不读帕斯卡，但却喜欢帕斯卡，因为在为基督捐躯者中他是最富教益的人物，先是生理的牺牲，后是心理的逐杀，他都无一幸免——这，便是基督教残无人性的全部逻辑之所在；或许，鄙人天生便有蒙田〔9〕的任性，生来便知蒙田的放荡——是也，非也，天晓得？在艺术家的气度上，鄙人则颇有几分莎士比亚的放荡不羁和愤世嫉俗，即便如此，鄙人仍得维护莫里哀（1622—1673，法国演员及剧作家。——译者注）、柯奈（1606—1684，法国剧作家。——译者注）和拉辛（1639—1699，法国剧作家。——译者注）等法兰西名流的高洁——即便如彼，却毫不影响鄙人对法兰西晚期贤达的敬仰，他们的人数是不在少处的。真不敢想象，历史上还有哪个时代，敢同当今巴黎一样拥有如此好奇而精明的心理学家。这里，试举几例——其人数委实不少——如保罗·布尔热（1852—1935，法国作家、批评家。——译者注）、皮埃尔·洛蒂（1850—1923，法国小说家。——译者注）、吉普、美拉克、阿纳托尔·法朗士（1844—1924，法国小说家。——译者注）、朱尔·勒梅特尔（1800—1876，法国喜剧演员。——译者注），或许还可以举出一位出身显赫的人物来，他便是鄙人特别垂青的拉丁文天才居伊·德·莫泊桑（1850—1893，法国作家。——译者注）。对于他们，我们宁肯偏信后代，而不轻信前代——所谓他们的导师那一代人，因为所谓导师那一代尽为德意志哲学所毒害的人。譬如，M. 泰纳（1828—1893，另译“丹纳”，法国文艺理论家、史学家。——译者注）便是受了黑格尔毒害的人，他对伟人及其时代的误解大概都是拜黑格尔所赐。凡德意志影响所及之处，其文化无不受其侵害。不要忘了，法兰西乃是用战争“赎回”其文化精神的……司汤达（1783—1842，又译“斯丹达尔”，法国作家。——译者注）乃是鄙人人生路上难得的遇合之一——因为凡是鄙人人生中具有里程碑意义的东西都是偶然发生的，绝无什么他人的指点之类——而司公之于心理学的见地乃是独具慧眼的，司公之于事态的悟性，则足以使你离真实的伟人最近——看到鹰爪，便知道拿破仑要来了，其价值是无法估量的；最后，必须提及的便是，法兰西历史上难得的稀罕人物——鄙人得另眼看待的、可敬的无神论者普罗斯佩·梅里美……或许，在二公之间，鄙人还得偏重于司汤达？因为，在无神论的境界上，司公与我——或者我与司公殊途同归了，司公笑道：“上帝最好的借口，便是他并不存在”……而尼采，竟也在什么地方说过：“而今，存在的威胁者，何也？曰：上帝……”

（四）

我在所有千年的王国里追寻，追寻那种美妙而富有激情的乐章——最终都以徒劳而告终。抒情诗人，乃是海因里希·海涅（1797—1856，德国诗人、政论家。——译者注）给我的最高的称谓。海涅——借给鄙人一种天赐的怨恨，离开了这个怨恨，鄙人便无以完成那美妙的想象——因为，在判断人类及其种族的价值时，便是看他们能不能将上帝同萨梯（半人半兽的森林之神<希神>。——译者注）区分开来。——海涅的德语造诣极高！总有一天，会有人宣布鄙人和海涅都是一流的德文大师——无论在哪一方面，都是德意志的本土人士所望尘莫及的。

——世人必将以尼采的语言天赋同拜伦《曼弗雷德》〔10〕的语言艺术相提并论：鄙人早已独自发现了万恶之渊——而那时，鄙人不过十三岁而已。无“词”以对，只是想看看是什么人胆敢在《曼弗雷德》的面前重提《浮士德》〔11〕的大名。德意志人是无以得知“伟大”概念的内涵的：舒曼（1810—1856，德国作曲家。——译者注）便是一例。

出于对口蜜腹剑的撒克逊人〔12〕的愤慨，鄙人为《曼弗雷德》作了“跋”。对此，汉斯·冯·比洛却质疑说，他不曾在原稿中见过此类“跋”文：这简直是对神灵的冒犯。于是，鄙人便在莎士比亚的创作范式中寻找文学的最佳格式，发现凯撒（大帝）的形象乃是莎翁独到的笔触，绝不是他人照猫画虎便足以得来的笔墨——人们绝不敢想象连这样的事情也会发生。于是，要么就是它，要么绝不是它。伟大诗人的创作是唯一的，因为他所依据的真实是唯一的——在作品完成之后，即便是作者本人也不能再一次忍受同样的境遇——以便复制作品的原貌了……鄙人，曾试图再次经历《扎拉图斯拉的独白》的“坎坷”——然而，即便在书屋中踱步半晌，也只能以一阵难以控制的抽噎无果而终了。——不知世间还有什么著述能比读莎士比亚的戏剧更让人撕心裂肺：试想——使一个滑稽戏剧中的小丑感人至此，作家要经受多大的磨难！——哈姆雷特感人吗？使读者发狂的，不是疑惑，而是信以为真……然而，要察觉到人物的真实性，读者还得有这个造诣，有这个修养，还得有一个推理正常的头脑……所有的人，都会敬畏真理……而且，说实话：鄙人从不怀疑培根先生乃是怪诞文学的开创者、自戕者：既如此，又何须在乎美利坚那些知识浅薄、头脑不清的可怜虫呢？然而，想象中的真实之所以感人，乃是因为它来自事实中的真实感受（如行为之怪异、犯罪之真实等，都必须是和谐的、共存的、一致的），甚至后者乃是前者的先决条件……无论在何种意义上，培根先生都是首屈一指的唯实论者，但是实际上人们对他——要做什么？做了些什么？乃至他的内心世界是什么？都还知之甚少……见鬼去吧，可爱的批评家先生们！

假若，当初鄙人予扎拉图斯拉的取名不是如此，而是名之以经由洗礼的“理查德·瓦格纳”，那么，两千多年之后，人们对《人性的，太人性的》〔13〕的作者推测就不会仅仅满足于那是扎拉图斯拉的幻觉的结局了……

（五）

这里，在涉及鄙人生命创造力的问题之前，先得说句感恩的话，以便对改变鄙人人生价值观发生过影响的方方面面，表达真诚的、意味深长的感激之情。毫无疑问，这里最亲密的关系都是和理查德·瓦格纳的名字联系在一起的。至于，所欠其他人的情谊，鄙人都可以一笔带过；然而，不管怎样在特里布森的那些日子，鄙人是决不会忘记的，那是彼此信任的时光，那是令人兴奋的时光，那是极其难得的时光——那是弥足珍贵的时光……鄙人，虽不知别人同瓦格纳相处的阅历：然而，鄙人却鉴证了我俩——彼此友谊的象征，乃是万里无云的长空。——说到这里，又得提起法国了——对瓦格纳的粉丝还有其他的追随者来说，只要他们觉得瓦格纳身上还有什么同他们相似的地方，那便是他们在向瓦格纳先生表示敬慕了。对此，鄙人该有千条理由拥护，没有半点借口妒忌……其实，鄙人也是一样的——骨子里从不接受德意志的东西，甚至连见到一个德意志般的人影儿，也会倒了鄙人的胃口。于是，同瓦格纳的第一次接触，便注定要成为鄙人人生中大口吸氧的头一回：在鄙人的眼中，瓦格纳便像是外星来客一般，像是德意志人的对立面，乃至于——简直是所有德意志德行的反面教材。——“德意志人”这个概念，对从小呼吸“沼泽空气”长大的五十多岁的人来说，简直是悲观主义者的代名词；这些人，除了成为“德意志人”的革命者以外，别无选择——无论怎样，这些人都绝不会对那些固执偏见的现象保持沉默的——即便它们会改头换面，即便它们身披红装，再着以（欧洲）轻骑兵式的制服，在鄙人看来，那也是完全无关大局的事情……谁都知道，瓦格纳也是一位叛逆者——也逃离过德国人的藩篱……除了巴黎以外，艺术家便无以在欧洲找到自己的栖身之地：因为，只有在巴黎，艺术家才足以找到瓦格纳所设想的五种柔和的感觉，如手指上的细微差别、心理上的病态感觉，等等。在艺术激情的表现力上，在艺术摄制的严肃性上，绝没有什么地方可以同巴黎同日而语——那是典型的巴黎式“严肃”，乃是绝无仅有的艺术语言。惊世骇俗的抱负，乃是法兰西艺术家的灵魂，而在德意志却连这种概念也不曾有过。德意志人，本性“从善”——而瓦格纳却偏偏生来便不知“从善”为何物……好在，鄙人已多次交代了瓦格纳的人格以及什么人同他来往最多的问题：瓦格纳是法国后期的浪漫主义艺术家，像德拉克洛瓦和柏辽兹（1803—1869，法国作曲家。——译者注）一样，也是那种野心勃勃而足以令人亢奋的艺术家，他们天生病态，无药可救，是滔滔不绝的狂热分子，是彻彻底底的艺术名家……那么，谁是瓦格纳最虔诚的首席信徒呢？那无疑是查尔斯·波德莱尔了，不过他也是第一个解读德拉克洛瓦的人。德拉克洛瓦是一个典型的颓废者，一个足以让整整一代艺术家认识自己的人——或许，他也是瓦格纳的最后一个信徒……尽管如此，在某些方面我却永远也不能原谅瓦格纳——他屈尊于德意志人——乃至于变成了德意志之外的德意志人……足见，只要在德意志影响可以延伸到的地方，文化便难免遭殃。

（六）

不管怎样，离开了瓦格纳的音乐，尼采是熬不过那病魔缠身的青年时代的。尼采，生而屈尊为德意志人——一个人想要摆脱难以忍受的屈辱，必得求助于精神上的麻醉。于是，鄙人便找到了瓦格纳——在尼采眼中，瓦格纳乃是德意志绝无仅有的解毒之物——不过，它本身也是一种毒物，这是毋庸置疑的……只要一听到《特里斯坦》的钢琴乐曲响起，尼采便会随之而成为瓦格纳的同路人——我的冯·比洛先生，这可不是我的恭维话！不过，对于瓦格纳早期的作品，鄙人却实在是不敢仰视的——因为它们实在是太普通，太“德意志”化了……尽管这样，我仍然企望还能找到像《特里斯坦》那样令人惊魂动魄，那样余音绕梁的佳作——鄙人翻遍了所有的“艺术”作品，然而还是得认输了。在《特里斯坦》的第一个音符面前，列奥纳多·达芬奇所有的“奇特”都会黯然失色。《特里斯坦》是瓦格纳的登峰造极之作；之后，他接着又创作了《迈斯特的歌手》和《指环》，望能赶上《特里斯坦》的辉煌——然而，使瓦格纳始料未及的是，其结果却偏偏不能如他所愿——这，大概也是天资使然……鄙人，可算是生逢其时，还能偏偏在德意志人群中幸运地存活下来，以便有所担当——鄙人，心智敏捷而好奇善问，足以完成天赋的使命——此，乃鄙人三生有幸之遇合也。对于一个从未病至“快意癫狂”的人，世界是不会眷顾的：因为，那几乎是一种必须履行的义务——乃至于一种必须以神奇的方式才足以奏效的结果。瓦格纳之所以能取得惊人的成就，是因为唯有他才长满了足以在千奇百怪、若喜若狂的大千世界里遨游的羽翼。这一点，鄙人比谁都心知肚明；而鄙人，则有足够的能力将问题最多、危险最大的劣势化为自身的优势，从而使自身倍加强大起来。不难想见，瓦格纳注定会成为鄙人生命中的施主。于是，我们相依为命——我们承受了这个世纪的常人所不能承受的磨难，我们苦得其所，我们的名字将永远写在一起；自然，也像瓦格纳常常会被德意志人误读一样，尼采也绝不会逃过这一劫的——永远也逃不过这一劫。——不过，我的德意志先生们：要理解这两位大师，你们还得花上两个世纪的心智和艺术的修行啊！只怕——你们是达不到这个境界的。——

（七）

对那些特别优异的读者，鄙人这里还得多说上几句：音乐到底给了鄙人什么呢？恰似十月里的一个午后天，音乐给了鄙人愉悦的情怀和微妙的感觉；恰似一个小巧而迷人的女人，音乐给了鄙人个性、奢侈和温婉……鄙人，从未奢望过德意志民族中会出一个懂得音乐的人。通常，所谓德意志的音乐家，特别最有名望的那些人，如果要究其出身的话，其实——他们偏偏一个也不是真正的德意志人？——要么是斯拉夫人、要么是克罗地亚人、要么是意大利人、要么是荷兰人——要么，甚至还是犹太人呢：不然，便是德意志高贵血统的人，或是杳无传人的德意志人，如海因里希·舒尔茨、巴赫和亨德尔，等等。至于尼采本人，足以称得上是一个地道的波兰人，因而又足以步肖邦音乐之后尘了；基于三个理由，鄙人要将瓦格纳的《西格弗里德田园曲》（牧歌）排除在高雅音乐之外，这里或许还应该包括李斯特（1811—1886，匈牙利钢琴家和作曲家。——译者注）的几个作品——虽然，李斯特以其管弦乐队的高雅器乐的格调，略胜其他音乐家一筹。最后，还必须提到的，是阿尔卑斯山脉那边儿的音乐人——说到这里……便不能不提到罗西尼（1792—1868，意大利作曲家。——译者注），更不能不涉及南部的音乐家——威尼斯音乐大师皮特洛·加斯蒂。鄙人之所谓阿尔卑斯山脉的那边儿，其实仅仅是指威尼斯而已；而当鄙人试图以另外一个名词去替代“音乐”二字时，恐怕也只有“威尼斯”一词足以担当此任了。在鄙人的音乐世界里——音乐和眼泪，总是难解难分；在鄙人音乐的词典中——幸福同“南部”总是紧紧地联系在一起，而那幸福的南部——又总是同微微颤动的心灵连接在一起的。

近日，〔14〕

一个茶褐色的夜晚，

独自地，我伫立在桥头儿，

打远方，传来一阵悠扬的歌儿：

宛如一颗金色的水珠儿，

颤抖着，打水面滚来——越滚越近。

艘艘狭长的船儿，道道夜晚的光儿，声声飞来的音儿——

醉一般，游进那朦胧的夜……

我的心——一把上了弦儿的琴，

一双无形的手——拨动着那根敏感的弦儿——

奏出一首美妙的歌儿，附和着——那船上的曲儿，

我的心，颤抖着，颤抖着——那是幸福的炫耀。

——有人，

——听到否？

（八）

前述诸项选择——养分的选择、气候和居地的选择，乃至修养方式的选择——都与人类自我保护的天性息息相关。人类需要对这些条件进行自我选择，说明自我保护乃是人类自卫的天性，这是毋庸置疑的。不必亲眼看到许多，不必亲耳听见许多，也不必亲自做过许多——只要有一次经验便能够足智多谋，只要有一回事实便足以证明本能的自卫不是可有可无的儿戏，而是务必达到的条件。关于自卫的天性，最能说明问题的例证莫过于味觉的灵敏了。在紧急情况下，尽管说“是”——可能是一种“正常”的反应，可人们却常常还是会情不自禁地说“不”，而且总是要把说“不”的声音压得很低。于是，人们便会设法躲开或者回避那些常常需要说“不”的场面。这里的理论依据是，自卫是一种消费性的东西，而且还不是一种低消费，这种消费还会形成一种潜规则，一种坏习惯，从而导致某种特殊的、完全没有必要的窘境或者发生尴尬情形。可见，人们最大的损失，常常是因为最小或者最寻常的毛病所招致的。避开那些小毛病，远离那些小毛病，也是需要花费代价的——在这个问题上，人们是不该自欺欺人的——因为，那便是在不必要的问题上耗费精力。但是，如果仅仅靠一味回避毛病来解决问题，人们便会无力实施自卫。——假如，鄙人迈出了房门，出现在眼前不是幽静而富有贵族气派的都灵，而是德意志的某个地方城市：我辈便会本能地封闭自我，以便排除由眼前这个懦弱而乏味的世界所带来的一切压力。假如，出现在鄙人眼前的是某个德意志的大都会，其建筑风格不雅，且众木不生、良莠不齐而杂乱无章——如是，鄙人或许得变作豪猪，背着身子，退避三舍了。——然而，如此弄得浑身是刺，恐怕是一种恣意妄为——即便允许你浑身无刺，只剩一双慷慨之拳，或许那是一种加倍的奢侈……

另一种明智的自卫方式是，或尽可能不做任何反应，或尽可能远离复杂的局面和人际关系，免得自身的“自由”和“主动”被人家剥夺，又从而成为别人的囊中之物。以书代游，便是鄙人的教义。在鄙人看来，学者不过是“翻动”书本的人物而已——一位文献学家，每天少说也得“翻动”二百本书——可最终他自己却丧失了思考的良机；一旦翻书停止了，他便无从思考了；即便他思考了，也不过是对某种刺激——某种他所翻动过的内容的反应而已——显然，文献学家的一次思考不过是一个反应罢了。学者们，只会将自己毕生的精力都耗费在对现成思想的肯定或否定上，而他们所批判的也不过是别人已经思考过的东西——他自己是不必思考（没有思想的）的……正是在这种情形下，学者们自卫的本能便为之削弱了；要不然，他们便会跟书过不去。足见，学者们是一个堕落的群体。——这些，便是鄙人亲眼所见：本来天资聪颖，思维敏捷，而且人格自由的青年人，早已在他们三十多岁的黄金时段，因为“读”书而“毁”掉了他们的前程——他们活着的意义，仅在于像火柴棍一样——只需在既定要为之点燃的那一刻——才能够释放一点所谓的火花——过着“思想”而已。

——清晨，天刚破晓，万象俱新，谁人不是精力正旺——哪个不是神情正好？偏偏得用这一段最佳的时光，去读书——真乃罪过也！——

（九）

至此，鄙人便必须切实面对如何兑现自我价值的问题了。为此，鄙人精心撰写了关于自我维持的方式问题，即关于“自私”的艺术问题，那是别人的得意之笔……假若我们的使命、职业和天命都在相当程度都超越了一般的意义，那么我们最大的风险，莫过于在使命的关照下认知自我。之所以需要兑现个体的价值，乃是因为人们往往不能从最长远的意义上读懂自己。换言之，人们并不懂得“自我”意味着什么。正是在这个意义上，即便是生命中的跌跌撞撞——一时的失足、失误、贻误、羞怯乃至过于拘谨等等，都会以外因的方式影响到使命的进程——其实，这些看似消极的阅历，都是有其积极意义和价值的——都是大智——乃至特智的另一种表达方式：〔15〕因为，“懂我”或许正是对付“毁我”的妙方，忘我、误我、虐我、贬我、庸我的做法则无一不是“毁我”的根源所在。如果用道德主义者的说法，则是：只要爱他人，为他人、他物而生存，再严重的利己主义都足以得到保护。显然，这是站在“无私”的立场上说话的。这是一反鄙人往常做法和信念的情形，不过只是一个例外而已：其实，所谓的道德主义者，本来就是以自私自利为行，以自我教养为业的。——人类的意识必须完全摆脱外部命令的强行制约——因为，意识本来就是一个客观、外在而不受约束的存在物。另外，还必须提防不实之辞、不妥之念的负面干扰。可见，只有排除了所有的“风险”，天性便会“自我觉醒”——同时，那些注定要指挥你行为的组织“观念”便会越来越根深蒂固，同时开始居高临下，发号施令，并逐渐将你从边道、弯路上拽回，激活你足以独立的资质和能力——总有一天，这些资质和能力会化为成就你事业不可或缺的积淀乃至手段——除了足以为你的使命、目标、目的及其意义提供有益启示以外，还表现出其他的辅助功能来。——由此看来，鄙人的生活是简单的，也是奇妙的。既然需要重新估定所有的价值，就得有超乎常人的能力。不过，这些能力却不得自相矛盾，自相对立。能力要有秩序；有区别（差异）；分类方式不能相互抵触；能力之间必须相互谐调，不得相互混淆，诸多能力之结构绝对不能杂乱无章——所有这些便是鄙人成功的先决条件，也是鄙人天生的工作方式，乃至长期积淀的劳动秘密。至于对自身的内在修养，鄙人却从来都不做最明确的规划和设计。这个事实说明，能力的增长只能通过对天性的善加呵护去实现。懂得这一点是重要的——但是，必须明白：总有一天，鄙人所有的能力都会在一夜之间趋于成熟，达到巅峰——达成终极的完美。正因为这样，鄙人从来也不曾觉得生命中会有什么烦恼的事情——更找不到什么强勉奋争的痕迹，因为：鄙人天生就不是一块什么英雄的料。要“得到”什么，要“追求”什么，立什么“目标”，树什么“夙愿”之类的宏图大志——鄙人生命的过程中，从来都没有这般的事。即便在此刻，眺望生命的未来——遥远的未来！——也恰似眺望那空空如也的大海：大风吹皱了所有的海面，却不见一丝儿奢望。一切便是一切，不必做丝毫的变动；尼采便是尼采，何须做多余的润色？……谁都可以存疑，不过那便是鄙人永久的生命方式。鄙人，心无鸿鹄之志，何必躲躲闪闪！若夫，岁逾不惑之年，谁人不追名逐利？哪个不图女人欢？——不过，尼采尚无此愿也……虽曾荣获过学府里的教授头衔——却也未曾奢望过那档子事——那阵子，尼采——不过一个二十四岁的人而已。

（十）

有人一定会问：尼采怎么就会讲述些传统上微不足道的事情？回答是：既然注定要担当人间之大任，尼采便得加倍“考验”自己。在尼采眼中：关于营养、地域、气候、修身之方式乃至对自我中心主义之诡辩，这些常人所微不足道者——其意义超越了所有概念的重要性，远不是迄今为止人们以为最为重要的东西所能比。准确地说，人们务必学会用新的——不同的方式，重新审度以往的事与物；而且，务必从当下便开始。其实，迄今为止，人们所信以为真的东西，也绝非全然属实，乃至尚有纯属臆测者耳——如果从更为深刻的意义上说，那些所谓臆测之事物，不过是渊源于人性之病态乃至劣根之性质的谎言罢了——诸如“上帝”、“灵魂”、“美德”、“罪孽”、“来世”、“真理”和“永生”一类的概念，全都是谎言……问题在于，人们却偏偏非要从这里找出一个人性的“伟大”和“神圣”来不可……于是，害群之马便被奉为贤达之士；结果，所有政治的问题，社会的秩序，乃至教育的制度都从根本上扭曲了——审度以往的是非——蔑视一切的谎言，则被说成是生命中无足轻重的“琐事”，而加以非难……于是，鄙人便不得不将自己同古往今来的名流贤达置于同一个天平之上——区别，乃是显而易见的。好在，鄙人并没有将这里天平上的名流及其贤达划归于人类的范畴——因为，在鄙人的眼中，他们生性有病，图谋有毒，是人类的渣子，是发育不良的怪胎：完全是一群恶贯满盈、不可救药的怪兽；而其所为之事，不过是对人类进行的报复而已……鄙人必以这群怪兽为敌：于是，无以伦比的机敏，便是鄙人健全天性的反应，便是鄙人与众不同的殊能。鄙人之健体，绝无病态之倾向——即便在病魔缠身的时期，也绝没有疾殇之心态；至于对宗教的狂信、盲信，那更是与鄙人生性无关的了。鄙人，不须曲尊，何必傲慢？怜悯，从来都不是伟大的表现；高呼怜悯者，必是虚伪之辈……谨防一切口蜜腹剑之流！——于尼采，生活是简单的；而于最复杂的事务，生活却偏偏是最简单的。就在今秋的七十多天里，基于对未来数千年的责任之心，为了撰写那部一流的、空前而绝后的著述，鄙人几乎与世隔绝……这期间，只要见过一面的人，谁都知道，鄙人并没有丝毫的紧张；相反，鄙人却倍感精神抖擞，兴致勃勃——从来也没有吃得那么香甜，睡得那么踏实。——表现伟大的使命，除了用戏曲的方式外，鄙人——着实不知道还有什么更好的选择：它是伟大的象征，它是先决的条件。一丝轻微的紧张，一副沮丧的面容，一点嗓门不适的轻咳都会影响一个人的全神贯注——何况尼采是在做一项前无古人的工作呢！……千万不必神经过敏……自然，独居也有独居的苦处，独居也会干扰你的正事——然而，鄙人总是多苦于尘世之“喧闹”……

还是在很小的时候——七岁那一年，鄙人便知道——尼采注定不是一个安分的人——世界现有的语汇中，哪一个也不中尼采的听——然而，谁又见过尼采因此而闷闷不悦呢？时至今日，鄙人依然会同身边的每一个人平等相待，和睦相处，即便是社会底层的平民老百姓，尼采也会抱有恻隐之心：总之，待人接物，明里绝无傲慢之气，暗中亦无诋毁之心。鄙视他人，他人必能察觉：终其一生，鄙人都会对一切存心不良的行为勃然愤怒的……在鄙人这里，衡量一个人是否“伟大”的标准是：看他是否“知命”〔16〕，谁也不必梦想超越天性——过去是这样，将来是这样，永远是这样。务必容忍势必到来的事实，却不必伪装势必发生的事情——在必然世界的面前，一切理想主义的语汇都是苍白而无力的——然而，务必热爱这个世界……

佳作，何以叠出？

（一）

鄙人是鄙人，作品是作品，所谓人为一事，物则为另一事耳。于是，在涉及著述本身之前，还是先将它们是读得还是读不得，做一个“安民告示”的好——不过，只能点到为止便可。其实，必须正式回答这个问题的时机尚未到来，况且鄙人自身的机遇，也未必到来——有些问题恐怕从一开始便注定了——必定要待到鄙人离世之后，才会有一个清晰的答案。然而，总有一天，总有一个地方，人们会像鄙人所预见的那样去传道、去授业——甚至还会建立一个专门诠释扎拉图斯拉的论坛呢。对于这些，谁又敢说不可能呢？然而，如果企望鄙人的逻辑在当今便能够为人所乐听、为人所乐取，那么鄙人便全然地错了。因为，事实是没有人会听鄙人的，没有人会知道何以从鄙人这里获益——反正，人们尚且不能明白鄙人那些深奥的道理；况且，在鄙人自己方面，那些道理也尚且有未尽之宜。谁也不企望被人家误解——于是，鄙人自然要好自为之，不敢自作聪明了。需要重申的是，鄙人平生不存半点“恶意”，也无从将半点“恶意”付诸于尼氏文本——相反，却将太多的“迂腐”注入了鄙人的著述！……在鄙人看来，对任何人而言，持有一本尼氏的著述，都是一件千载难逢的幸事；甚至可以这样设想，他必定会兴奋得跳起了脚而踩丢了鞋——即便踩丢了人家的靴子，那也是预料之中的事……

海因里奇·冯·斯泰因博士曾经诚实地抱怨说，尼氏的《扎拉图斯拉的独白》，他连一个字都没有读懂。其实，问题并没有那么严重——然而，他若是果真读懂了，即便是阅历过其中六句忠言的意味也罢，那么他便会从“凡人”的位置上升到一个相当的高度——即便是这样的高度，也不是“当代人”所能企及的。有了这样一层感觉上的隔膜，何敢奢望鄙人所了解的“当代人”——去识读尼氏的著述呢？严格地说，尼采要走的成功之路和叔本华走过的成功之途乃是恰恰相反的——有道是“不生育，不轻浮”。——这样说，并不是要降低人们拒读尼氏著述的无辜为鄙人所带来的快意。就是在这个刚刚过去的夏天，因为著述任务过重——手头需要处理的文字太多，鄙人已经将其中冗余的部分裁去，也算是求个平衡吧。一位柏林大学的教授好心劝鄙人换一种方式著书，说什么没有人会接受那种叙事的方式——同时还希望鄙人理解这一点。

之后，恰好碰到了两个典型的“例子”，但这两件事情，却都不是发生在德意志，而偏偏是发生在瑞士。一个是，某个“联盟”的V. 威德曼〔17〕博士以卡尔．斯比特勒（同为该“联盟”的成员）先生的名义，以“尼采的书是危险的”为题，就《善恶论》〔18〕发表短文，对鄙人的著述作了一个总体性评价，那简直是一件鄙人人生中登峰造极的事情——他们居然说出了连作者本人都不敢奢望的“疯话”。另一个，则将《扎拉图斯拉的独白》说成是“一个高级语体的问世”，并且要鄙人随后为他们提供必要的说明；V·威德曼博士还说他钦佩鄙人的勇气，为此鄙人还努力克制过那种体面的感觉呢。虽然其中的话语尚不露天机，以至于连作者本都得佩服他们的严密——但是，那只不过是秃子头上的虱子——明摆着的事实：值得重申的是，人们务必“对以往的价值观念做出重新估定”，以便将钉子钉在鄙人的头上，而不是让鄙人的头碰在钉子的尖上……因为，对鄙人而言，所有要做的事情加在一起，无非是做好一个说明罢了。最重要的是，任何人（包括书籍在内），都不能编造事实。一件不可能阅历的事情，岂可以用耳朵听说？这里随便设想一个极端的例子吧：如果一本书连什么问题都没有涉及，只是用第一人称的方式编造了一种似乎用新的经验堆积起来的事情，那么就连常识乃至稀有的经验都不足以证明那些事情是真实的。在这种情况下，人们又怎么可能听到事实呢？这是一个极为简单的道理，因为：没有人听到，便是没有发生，于是只能称之为道听途说了……其实，这不过是鄙人普通阅历之内的事情而已，或者说，最多不过是鄙人阅历的出处罢了。

一个对鄙人有所了解的人，在经过他自己的判断以后，常常未必一定要成为鄙人的对立面——或许还会多少接受一些鄙人的影响呢，比如一个所谓的“理想主义者”常常就是这样；而一个对鄙人毫无了解的人，则一定会从根本上否认鄙人的东西——乃是鄙人思想的结晶。

“超人”〔19〕是一个“类型”，而且是一个至善至美的“类型”——同“现代人”、“善人”、宗教人士以及其他虚无主义者毫无共同之处。在《扎拉图斯拉的独白》中，正是这个“超人”颠覆了传统的道德观念。于是，“超人”便自然而然地变成了一个非常敏感的词语；而在价值观的意义上，又正是这种同传统道德观念毫无共同之处的“对立性”——构成了扎拉图斯拉个性的基本特征，并且几乎处处都会因此而招致与生俱来的非难：甚至将其归属于理想主义“高品位”人群那一类，说什么他是一半“圣人”，一半“天才”的集合……而其他文明一类的畜生们则以他们物以类聚的方式将鄙人猜疑为达尔文主义者；尽管鄙人曾无情地驳斥过卡莱尔的英雄崇拜主义的思想，却仍然有人猜疑鄙人的思想有大骗子卡莱尔（或许他自己并没有意识到这一点，也不情愿让自己成为骗子）英雄崇拜主义的成分。对于这类人，鄙人曾悄悄地提醒他们说：要看看周围的世界，而不要因为西泽·博尔贾或者巴尔锡福尔的影响而不相信自己的耳朵。

对于舆论，特别是报刊关于尼氏著述的议论，鄙人向来都不感兴趣，这一点，朋友们、出版商他们也是知道的，只是没有告诉鄙人罢了。因此，舆论界原本应该是饶了鄙人的。不过，在一个特殊的情况下，鄙人曾经亲眼见证了他们仅就鄙人一本书所数落的所有罪责——那本书便是《善恶论》；关于这件事，这里简直可以讲出一个奇妙的故事来。

还有一家叫做《国民报》的普鲁士周报，那自然是给鄙人那些国外的读者们看的。巧得很，鄙人也读过国外的东西，可以说只有《辩论日报》，竟大着胆子宣称：尼氏的书乃是“时代的产物”，乃是真正天才贵族的哲学。不过，这个胆量，可是《十字报》所没有的；这样说，或许——读者还未必相信呢？……

（二）

以下的话语，就写给意志的国民享用吧？鄙人的书，哪里都有读者——其优选者，惟有出身高贵的智慧之士，且其中还不乏真正的天才人物。在维也纳，在圣彼得堡，在斯德哥尔摩，在哥本哈根，在巴黎，在纽约，到处都可以找到鄙人的读者——显然，鄙人完全不必将自己的读者群限制在欧洲的德意志境内……说实在的，鄙人偏为那些间接的读者们倍受鼓舞。因为，这类读者，有的连鄙人的姓名都不曾听说，有的则甚至连什么是哲学也不曾晓得，然而鄙人每到一地——就说在鄙人所暂且栖身的意大利都灵吧，人们只要看到尼采抛头露面，一个个脸庞儿上便会洋溢着平日里少有的兴奋和善意。给鄙人印象最深的，要算那位超市里年迈的妇人了，每每见到我，她总会使出浑身的力气，将柜子里最甜的葡萄挑给我品尝——在尼采看来，这便是对一个哲学家最大的奖赏……足见，波兰人被呼作斯拉夫人眼中的法兰西公民〔20〕，并非虚言了。

在鄙人的经验中，一位讨人喜欢的俄罗斯女士，是决不会错过任何一次盘问鄙人国籍的机会的——这回事，常使鄙人因腼腆而不善言辞，谁都知道那是最尴尬的局面……对付德意志人，处理德意志事，尼采决无输招，然而——此时此刻，尼采竟束手无策了……鄙人原先的恩师里奇尔曾用心良苦地夸尼采，说凭鄙人的语文才华足以把一篇论说文，写得像发生在巴黎街道上浪漫故事一般精彩——会令人觉得荒诞而又兴奋不已。即便在巴黎，人们也会面对M. 泰恩“所有勇气和计谋”一般的描述而感到惊讶。怕只怕，对古希腊酒神极端的狂热一旦变成一种“永不浸水的盐类混合物”——德意志精神，鄙人便真不知该如何是好了，救救我，上帝！——阿门！

长耳朵，意味着什么——谁都知道，有人甚至还有过切身的体验呢。于是，鄙人便可以断言，尼采的耳朵，是世界上最短的了。这对于女士们来说，是无关要紧的——因为，在鄙人看来，她们都以为尼采已经向他们表示了足够的善意……尼采是一个卓越的反对愚昧者，时又是一个人类历史上的大怪人——在希腊，不仅仅在希腊，尼采完全是一个反对基督的人。

（三）

作为一个作家，鄙人有自己特殊的禀赋，这并非夸大之辞；而在个别情况下，鄙人写作所独有的极大的“摧毁”性品味，则是与生俱来的秉性。人们可以不再理会尼采的著述——最起码可以摆脱尼采哲学的折磨，这是一件极其简单的事情。

来到这个高贵而美妙的世界，是无以伦比的殊荣——但绝对不要沦为德意志的人；那么，最终必定会成为一个杰出的人物。但是，只要当一个人从尼采的著述中，真正读出欣喜若狂的感觉时，他便足以通过某种高尚的意识经验和尼采联系在一起：因为，尼采来自连鸟儿都无以飞抵的高空，而尼采所了解的地狱，人类是无从涉足的。不要扔下鄙人的书，那是要不得的——尼采会搅醒你深夜的睡眠……总之，没有什么书籍比尼采的著述更高傲、更精妙的了——人们足以从中获得世界上最有价值的东西——愤世嫉俗；谁要得到这些，谁就得有十个最敏感的手指和一双最强悍的拳头。任何灵魂的脆弱，都会使他丧失这里的机会，乃至永远都得不到它——连一次小小的“消化不良”也不例外：你的神经务必是麻木的，你的胃口务必是兴奋的。除了灵魂的贫乏外，连精神上的每一点空虚都可能致使你丧失这里的机会——懦弱、肮脏，乃至内心深处的复仇心理都可能招致机会的丧失：听我一句劝诫的话，便足以将所有本能的污秽驱逐于身体之外。在鄙人的同仁中，有几个经验型的人物，他们那里，尼采获得了许多——许多对尼氏著述有益的反馈信息。至于那些不愿意同尼氏著述扯上关系的人，比如鄙人那些所谓的朋友们，便不必受什么个人因素的影响了：每当鄙人有一部著作问世时，他们只需要以欢欣鼓舞的语气，祝贺作者又完成了一部著作，说说“进步还是明显的”一类套话便是了……

全然恶意的“精神”、经由“美化的灵魂”、彻头彻尾的虚假——岂堪应对尼氏的著述？于是，他们眼中所见的，恰似他们脚下所踩的——那便是对他们美化了的“灵魂”所作的绝妙的脚注。鄙人那些善于挑刺的同仁们，实不客气地讲，全是些德意志同胞们——他们总是说未必赞成尼采的观点，虽然有时候他们也能理解尼采的难处——这，无非是要鄙人理解他们的难处……据说，甚至连鄙人的扎拉图斯拉，他们也无法容忍……任何一个持有“女权主义”观点的人——或者干脆说任何一个“女权主义”的男人吧，同样会将尼采拒之门外：因为他们永远都不能穿越那个愤世嫉俗的智慧迷宫。如果人们注定要幸福快乐的话，就必须同艰难的真理同归于途，舍此便没有别的选择——或许，人们从不吝惜自我，但是他们从来都不曾知晓自己还缺乏严厉的习惯。对一个优秀读者，尼采的企望是：一个既有勇气又有好奇之心的庞然大物，一个聪明无比、反应敏捷而胆大心细的巨人——一个天生的探险者兼发现者。打心底讲，至此，鄙人依然不知道怎么对自己的读者说才会更好些，就让扎拉图斯拉替鄙人来代言——唯不知单单为了这里的事儿，扎拉图斯拉是不是愿意将他的“谜语”再重述一遍？

对那些——勇敢的探险者和发现者们；对那些——已经登上灵巧的航船正在波涛汹涌的海面上搏击的勇士们——

对那些——陶醉于谜语，沉迷于曙光——其灵魂已随着长笛的乐音到达那变化莫测之深渊的人们——

没有人会奢望以懦夫的双手去抚摩一条长长的绳索——难道有什么人会情愿破费去丈量那条绳索到底有多长？……

（四）

这里，还得就尼采著述的体裁和风格问题说几句话。通过语言符号——包括使用这些符号的节奏，传达某种心理的状态，某种内心的悲怆——此，乃体裁之意义所在了；在鄙人这里，人物心理状态的变化是复杂的、特别的，因此体裁的适应性——多样性便是不可避免的——总之，体裁的变化是随人物性格的变化而变化的，只要能够恰倒好处地传达人物心理的状态，任何一种体裁都是合适的，都不至于同语言符号的使用发生错位，每一个符号、每一个节奏、每一个姿势——所有修辞的规则，都得服从于艺术表达的需要。——好的体裁——恰似一则优美的曲调，一个单纯的“理想”：足以与“美”同价，与“善”同格，与“物”同值者也……鄙人之天性，岂敢误人乎？

期待着：乐音总有听众，悲怆可逢奇人，忠言单遇知音——眼下，尼氏的扎拉图斯拉依然在追寻他自己的知音——天哪！那——还得花费多长的时间！但愿，未来的知音值得他追寻……到那时，人们才会如实地理解这里被挥霍了的艺术：才会更多地领略这种全新的、从未听说的风格，才会真正接受这种在艺术手段上直接革新了的风格——到那时，尼氏的艺术才会不至于为之荒废了。然而，如果这种事情发生在操德意志语言的人群之中，便需要考究一番了：对此，本人理应事先就给予激烈驳斥。在鄙人面前，他们还不至于用德意志的语言捡到什么便宜的——其实，他们又何曾用这种语言做成过什么？因为：这种艺术的韵律，庄重的文体，足以传达情感升降的微妙，足以焕发超人的激情……这种著述的体裁及其风格的独到，唯有鄙人的笔触才足以独立地创造；……如同《扎拉图斯拉的独白》第三版最后一节——“七只海豹”一般的酒神赞美诗，比之迄今为止的所谓“诗歌”，鄙人不知早已超出了它们多少倍。

（五）

读鄙人的书，好比聆听天下顶好的心理学家讲演一般——或许，这便是一个优秀读者的第一感觉——只要他们像作者一样去体味，读鄙人的书，便会如同一位资深的语文学家在诵读罗马诗人贺拉斯〔21〕的诗歌一般。——在鄙人看来，相信“自我主义”与“非自我主义”的对立，本来便是一个天真的错误，因为所谓“自我”本身就是一个“高级骗局”——一个虚构的“观念”而已。这一点，是不需要什么哲学背景或者道德说教的理论支持的，因为那是一个连思维肤浅的俗人，乃至于连傻瓜也能明白的道理，谁都知道：基本上是没有人会持反对意见的。

无所谓自我主义，也无所谓非自我主义——在心理学的意义上，二者都是无稽之谈。什么“人类要为幸福而奋斗” ……什么“幸福就是对德行的报偿”……什么“愉快和不愉快是对立的”，如此等等，不一而足。对人类的蛊惑，对道德的诠释，从根基上扭曲了整个心理学的基础——心理学完全被道德概念化了——以至于到了可怕、荒唐的地步，说什么“爱情是非利己主义的”……人必须坚守自我，必须坚定立场，否则人便索性不必爱了。不过，这种事终究是精明的女人们心里最明白了：她们玩上一把“非我”的游戏，过是为了让毫无偏见的男人们领略一下大丈夫的滋味而已……恐怕鄙人还真不敢冒昧地自称已经吃透了女人的心？不过——果真如如此，那便是狄俄尼索斯酒神的眷顾了。天晓得？说不定鄙人便是第一个女人灵魂不朽的心理学大师。恰似一个遥远的故事所讲述的那样——除去那些发育不全、丧失了生育能力的自由女士们，哪个敢说不喜欢我？幸运的是，鄙人并没有注定被女人们撕得粉碎：因为，一个十足的女人，要她高兴，便会将你撕成碎片的……鄙人，是了解那些温柔而又失去理智的女人的……天那，那多像一群危险而隐蔽的爬行动物啊！你可以惬意地和她们相处！……一个精明的女人，其复仇的欲望是会超越其天性的。——〔22〕毋庸讳言，女人比男人聪明，也比男人恶毒，女人的善意往往是恶情的端倪……所谓“美丽的心灵”常常掩饰着生理上的缺陷——这样说，并非因鄙人愤世嫉俗乃至玩世不恭所致。为平等的权力而奋争乃是病魔的症结所在：这个道理，只要是做医生的，谁都知道。——一般说来，一个女人越是具备女人的天性，她就越是会为了保护自己而拼命地同权利斗争：正是由于天性的缘故，迄今为止——在男女永久的性别之争中，女人总是处于优势地位的。——鄙人这里的“爱”情观，不知读者是否还可以听得下去？惟有这里的“爱”情观，才值得用哲学的头脑去思考。然而，在方法论上，在根本意义上，关于“爱”情的战争，应该渊源于道德观念上对性意识的厌恶。鄙人的陈辞，是否击中了问题的要害——从而使人们聊以解决或者补救女人带来的问题呢？扎拉图斯拉说，男人给女人带来孩子，因为女人需要孩子；足见，男人只是一种工具而已。——对于病态或者无以受孕的女人来说，“女人的解放”只会引起她们本能的厌恶，而对于常态或者健康的女人来说，同男人决斗则会成为她们独有的手段——或巧立名目，或独用战术，那便是很寻常的事儿了。而当她们将自己升格为“自为女人”、“高级女人”、“理想主义女人”的时候，她们实际上已经降低了自己作为女人的基本品味；这些无疑都是文法学校的栽培——妇女要掌权，妇女要当家，妇女要成为政治上的投票机等等之所致了。其实，那些主张妇女解放的人们，便是在纯粹的女人世界里，也不过都是些无政府主义者罢了——她们也属于被剥夺了基本社会权利的人群，其歇斯底里的“本事”，也不过是向男人世界的复仇罢了……顺便说一下，在整个人群中最恶毒的“理想主义者”——其实还是男人，比如亨里克·易卜生便是个例子，他提倡什么典型的老处女主义——其结果无非是玷污了人类的良心，破坏了天然的性爱罢了……这，原本是一件坦诚而严肃的事情。为了将这一思想说得透彻一些，关于鄙人的道德准则，这里有必要再多说几句，以便将它同“罪恶”的东西严格地区分开来：“罪恶”一词的本意无非是要揭露违背天性的东西，如果需要说得典雅些，那便是要揭开“理想主义”的底子。这里的附言是：做“贞洁”的布道，便是公开地煽动对天性的对抗。所有，以“下流”、“不道德”为借口，轻蔑性生活、诽谤性生活的人，都是对人类生命的犯罪——都是对人类生命神圣精神的亵渎。

（六）

要对作为心理学家的尼采作一个概括的叙述，得用《善恶之外》中一段有关心理学的文字，读者大概会感到难以理解——顺便说一下，鄙人并不赞成将作者同文中人物简单联系在一起的不实猜测：“心灵之天性，惟天下最大之隐者所独有，诱惑之神和天籁之音的交响曲吹奏者，善于将他们的声音吹抵每一颗心灵的深处——不用言语，不必盼顾，毫无怂恿之意，毫无煽动之情，聆听者却偏偏深知其中的意味——无关乎吹奏者怎么样，有关于追随者怎么行，原本是被动而来，如今却铁了心去……心灵之天资，足以令一切必张扬而自足的东西，都变得须静谧才便于倾听，足以安抚人浮躁的心灵，赋予人崭新的企望，以便憧憬那遥远的未来——企望，犹如镜面一般的平静，透过它足以看到蓝天的深邃……心灵之天资，足以让笨拙而匆匆忙忙的人群有机会停一停，想一想，然后从容地上路；心灵之天资，足以推测那由隐匿而被人们遗忘了瑰宝，足以感知那深压在冰山底下的金银和财宝；心灵之天资，宛如一根奇妙的‘魔杖’，足以将泥沙筑成的监狱中搁置了许久——许久的每一颗金粒都打捞上岸……心灵之天资，只要你沾到它的边，富裕便会不期而至——那不是偏爱，你不必猜疑；不是上帝的保佑，不是别人的恩惠——是你自身的财富，是你自为的改变——恰似一股熔冰的和风，迎面吹来：你受到触动，你变得开朗，你一鸣惊人，你不必意外；或许，你依然不够确定，你依然不够完美；或许，你依然比较稚嫩，你依然比较脆弱；然而，你一定充满了不可名状的冲动——充满了崭新的意愿和朦胧的欲望——充满了你从未意识到的、奇怪的意志——冲创意志〔23〕，兼有逆反的心思……”

天运，我自晓得！

（一）

我的命运，我知晓——总有一天，尼采的名字会同那些可怕的记忆联系在一起——那将是一场空前的灾难，那将是一次良心的抉择，那将是一个对迄彼为止的所信、所愿及其所尊崇的背叛。我，不是一个人，我，是一剂炸药。——如此，鄙人何以成为某一宗教的发起人？——宗教，乃是下等人的事；在同宗教人士接触之后，鄙人还得清洗自己的手（鄙人并不需要“信奉者”，因为鄙人从不信奉什么人，即便同下等人说话的事儿，鄙人也懒得动嘴去做……总有一个可怕的感觉——有一天，鄙人会被众人呼作圣人：人们会说，难怪尼采老早就将那本书公诸于世；其实，那都是为了避免他人伤害我……鄙人不企图做“圣民”，也不希望成小丑……或许鄙人便是一个小丑……是小丑也罢，不是小丑也好——总之，迄今为止，没有什么人要比圣徒更虚伪的了——真理，必将出自“小丑”——鄙人之口。——不过，鄙人的真理是令人敬畏的：那是因为，所有迄今为止的谎言全被唤作真理了。——重估一切价值：这，便是鄙人——“小丑”治愈人类过激行为的药方——“回归自我”乃是至上的原则——于我，便是精神和血肉的见证。鄙人，注定要成为人间第一个体面的人——知晓自己务必站在千年“虚假”的对立面……鄙人，第一个发现了真理就是真理的天机。不！——鄙人，第一个嗅出了谎言就是谎言的味道……鄙人的嗅觉，便是鄙人的天赋……站在虚假真理的对立面上——揭穿从来没有为人所揭穿过的“谎言”，传诵从来没有为人所传诵过的喜讯，此乃尼采之天运耳。此一番天降之大任，舍我其谁？——非斯人，何足堪肩？尼采出世了，喜讯传来了，指望便有了。于是，天数注定，尼采必成为真理的代言人。

当真理步入同千年“谎言”的搏杀时，人们必然要感到强烈的震撼——如地球在抽搐、在痉挛一般，像峡谷和大山在移位、在迁徙一般——那，便是人类生来都没有做过的梦。到那时，政治，将全然成为一种精神的战争；所有以往社会的权力结构，都将被抛入历史的垃圾堆——躺在“谎言”的沙滩上安息：地球上，将会发生一场从未有过的战争——惟有在尼采出现之后，地球上才会产生一个“宏大的”政治。

（二）

假若命运的方舟，足以运载真正的伟人，何不寻而得之？尼氏的扎拉图斯拉，便会为你揭开这里的秘密。

假若要成为善恶的操控者，何不先做一个坚决的破坏者——破坏原有的价值观？

足见，大善与大恶同处一寓：然而，大善务必大扬之，大恶务必大抑之。

尼采，乃史间最令人敬畏之人；然而，这并不意味着尼采便是人间最慈善的人。他懂得，破坏足以带来快乐；在某种意义上——破坏越大，快乐越多——是破坏？是快乐？二者均依他狄俄尼索斯的天性而定——然而，这一天性却不便于区分“口是”和“行非”。尼采，乃是首屈一指的非道德主义者：实至名归的破坏主义者。

（三）

首屈一指的非道德主义者：君所名之曰扎拉图斯拉的大人物，其名其姓意味如何？——这里，本该问津者，却无人问津，于是——尼采便自问自答了：在善与恶的抗争中，乃是扎拉图斯拉第一个看到了事物发展的真实轨迹，并且将道德理念区分为动力、原因和自我消失三个范畴纳入玄学的领域，这些便是扎拉图斯拉的贡献所在——同史间波斯人的最大特点是大相径庭的。其实，在这里，问题的本身便是问题的答案。正是扎拉图斯拉本人首先触动了——道德理念的致命弱点：因此，他必须首先同时认识到问题的严重性。而在这方面，扎拉图斯拉不仅具有比其他任何思想家更长、更多的经验——因为，实际上整个人类历史，便是一个对所谓“世界道德秩序”命题的实验性反驳——更重要的是，扎拉图斯拉比历史上任何一个思想家，都更加逼近真理。他的教义，也惟有他的教义，维持了真理的尊严——那是一个至高的德行——换言之，那是一个同懦弱的、逃避现实的“理想主义”截然相反的理念；即便将所有思想家的胆量叠加在一起，也比不了扎拉图斯拉的胆略。说老实话——或者不如直截了当地说：“理想主义”不过是波斯人的德行而已。——鄙人说清楚了吗？试以扎拉图斯拉的真理观，对道德理念进行相反的自我克制，对道德主义者进行相反的自我抵御，使之向扎拉图斯拉贴近，向尼采贴近——这，便是扎拉图斯拉其名其姓之真实意味所在了。

（四）

实际上，谓非道德主义者，是包含两层否定含义的。首先，鄙人否认那些迄今为止总被奉为高人、善人及慈善者一类的人；其次，鄙人还否认那些生来便被尊为贵人并且具有支配地位的人物，所谓道德的化身——颓废的道德主义者，其实——不如直截了当地说，鄙人所否认的第二类，便是那些基督教卫道士一类的人。

这里的第二类人，可被拟定为主导阶层，他们往往对慈善价值的估计过高；而这些在鄙人看来，偏偏基本上都是颓废的根源、体弱的症结，都是同健康向上的生命水火不相容的东西：岂不知——否定和破坏乃是肯定和建设的一种存在方式——一种极其合理状态？——首先，对待那些善者，鄙人得用心理学的方式。而要辨别一个人是属于哪个类型的人，人们便得先估计一下他的自身价值——而要知道他的自身价值，便又得了解他的生存方式。谁晓得——善者们的生存方式原来是扯谎：换言之，无论如何他们的生存目的绝不是考察现实社会的基本构成；彻言之，不管何时他们也没有唤醒过人们慈善的本性，乃至于不管在什么情况下，他们连一个虽无远见却够善意的“干预”也决不会允许。将悲情从普遍意义上看作“异议”，作某种必须废除的东西，那便是“愚顽透顶”了，而从一般意义上讲，其后果无异于一场真实的灾难，一次愚昧的厄运——几乎同一个驱除阴天的拙劣意欲相差无几——或许，不是“可惜”，便是“可怜”了……在整个社会的总体结构中，现实的恐惧（如在情感、情欲以及冲创意志方面）在很大程度上，都变成了比微薄的幸福（所谓“善行”）更为重要的生命必需品；因为后者（幸福）总是被本能的虚假所限制，使为了获得少许的自由的空间，人们都得小心翼翼。假若需要展示一下人类历史盲目乐观之后果，就既无法估量，也不可思议，然而却又大有必要。首先，乐观主义同悲观主义一样是颓废的，或许还是更有害的。扎拉图斯拉说道：“善人是从不说真话的。善人教给你的不是虚假的“保护”便是虚假的“安全”：人们生来就被包围在善者的谎言中——一切都被善者的谎言彻底扭曲了。好在，世界并不仅仅为了善者的需要而缔造，温存的动物还足以从其夹缝中找到自己狭小的存身之处；而一旦到处都成了“善者”、受骗者、温存的动物以及慈善的人士乃至“美丽的灵魂”——或者，

像赫伯特·斯宾塞所希望的利他主义者的世界，那便意味着伟大人格的丧失，美好人类的阉割——于是，人类的地位将会变得无足轻重——这些，便是基督教卫道士们意图达到的目的！……准确地说，这便是卫道士们道德“真谛”之所在……正是在这个意义上，扎拉图斯拉将善者称为“灭亡之端倪”——“最后之人”；总之，在扎拉图斯拉的眼中，所谓“善者”乃是人类最危险的族群，因为他们维护自己的存在乃是以牺牲社会的真理为代价——乃是以牺牲人类的未来为代价。

“善者”——是不会有什么新招的，他们永远是灭亡的端倪——

“善者”将“主”钉上了十字架，“主”便将新的价值“钉”在了新的法案上——他们为了自己而牺牲未来，他们将人类的未来钉上了十字架！

“善者”——永远是灭亡的端倪……

无论世界的诽谤者们做过的伤害有多大，“善者”们所为的伤害——都是其大无比的。

（五）

扎拉图斯拉，既然是“善者”的第一位心理医师，便必然是“恶者”的第一位知心朋友。堕落的族群要升格为最高的人群，必定要以其对立面——具有强大生命力和自信心的族群的牺牲为代价。于是，温存的动物要发出其德行最辉煌最灿烂的光芒时，那些异常的族群，便必得贬为“恶人”了。无论在何种意义上，只要“虚假”以“真理”的面目出现，“真实”便会从实际意义上肩负最坏的名声。对此，扎拉图斯拉坚信不疑：他说准确意义上的善识，即所谓“最好”的知识，使他对普通的人群深感厌恶；也正是这种深恶痛绝的感触给他添上了“飞向遥远未来”的翅膀——他并不掩饰，是在同“善者”人格相对立的意义上，他形成了自身超乎常人的秉性，即所谓“超人”的人格；而“善者”与所谓“正义”之士却将这个超凡之人——“超人”，唤作魔鬼……

你们是最“高大”的人——鄙人目所未及，眼所未见！然而，疑云却由此而生——我偷偷地笑了：因为，我猜到你们会将“超人”呼作魔鬼的！

在“高大”的面前，你们的灵魂是那样的不堪入目——总以为“超人”会在所谓的“善行”面前，深感汗颜……

果真想知道扎拉图斯拉的真实人格吗？其实也不难：他笔下的人，便是活生生的人——现实中的人：在现实中，他毫不示弱——不疏远现实，也不迷恋现实，因为他便是现实——人家怕的扎拉图斯拉也会怕，人家疑惑的扎拉图斯拉也会疑惑——唯有这样，人类便会伟大起来……

（六）

不过，在另一个意义上，鄙人之所谓“非道德主义者”这一概念，还可以作为区别的标志乃至荣誉的象征；为有这样一个概念，鄙人甚感骄傲——因为，它使鄙人远离了整个基督的泛爱与仁慈。没有人会觉得基督的说教是真实的：于是，便需要从一个史间绝无仅有的心理学高度和深度上考察问题。基督的道德说教，对迄今为止的思想家来说，恰似荷马史诗中的女魔一般——有着蛊惑人心的意味。而当中伤人类思想的毒素像泉水一般涌来时，在尼采之前，何曾有人深入过炮制毒素的洞穴——世界毒流的源头，寻根问底？何曾有人以身存疑——猜想过毒素之洞穴、毒流之源头的真实存在？还是在尼采之前，何曾有人成为哲学史上的心理学大师，又幸免于站在它的反面而堕落为“高级骗子”——理想主义者的命运？还是在尼采之前，何曾有人见过真正的心理学说？——于是，首当其冲者，便招来莫名的横祸；不由分说，这也是天命了：好在，尼采也会第一个鄙视鄙视者的……自然，鄙视人家，必然给尼采带来厄运……

（七）

鄙人，说清楚了吗？——鄙人，何以定格？鄙人，何以区别于他人？——唯有免戴了基督道德说教之面具而已。于是，鄙人便需要一个词语——一个概念，这个词语——这个概念，足以炫耀尼采对任何人都无以幸免的“火药”味儿。对于尼采，不能尽快打开这个词语——这个概念的慧眼，便无异于在人性纯洁的良心表面涂上了一层厚厚的污泥，无异于将自我欺骗蜕变成了本能，无异于要泯灭了考察每一个事件、考究每一个原因、尊重每一个现实之冲创意志的基因〔24〕，无异于一个心理学家在犯罪问题上造了假。对基督教徒的道德说教视而不见，乃是不折不扣的犯罪——对生命的犯罪……在千年的历史上，在民族的兴亡中，在最先和最后之间，在哲学家和老夫人之间——如果仅仅区分了“五”到“六”个历史的瞬间，鄙人便要理所当然地坐在那第七个瞬间的席位上——于是，从这一点上看，人们相差无几。基督教徒，是迄今为止的“道德人”，是无以伦比的“奇怪人”——然而，无论是作为“道德人”还是“奇怪人”，他们荒唐、他们虚假、他们空虚、他们轻浮，因为他们连自己都要伤害——这一点，甚至连史间最大的骗子手都得在梦中才足以做到。基督的道德说教，乃是“扯谎意念”〔25〕最恶毒的表现形式，乃是人类生命中不折不扣的魔鬼：因为它，人类便会走向灭亡。至此，令人震惊的不是贻误本身，也不是整个精神领域“善意”、“修行”、“体面”乃至“勇气”的千年匮乏，致使它们背叛了自身的价值——而是天性的失却，准确地说——是天性的扭曲，致使人们将基督的清规戒律奉为最高义理，并且以法律的方式凌驾于社会，迫使人们无条件地履行基督教的清规和戒律——这无疑是一个可怕的事实！……既然如此，大错所殃及的便不仅仅是某一个人，某一个民族，而是整个人类了！……蔑视别人原本是生命的本能；“灵魂”、“精神”原本是毁坏肌体的元素；生命的某些先天状态原本是污秽的，比如性行为便是；甚至在那些为成功所做的基本努力中，也能找出个龌龊的本源来，说什么那都是不折不扣的利己主义——须知，“利己主义”这个概念的本身便有诋毁中伤的意味！另一方面，我们还可以通过那些诋毁和违背天性的概念符号中看出问题来——譬如什么“无私”、“失重”、“去个性”及“爱朋友”（——交朋友的欲望！）还有什么“高价值”和“价值的价值”之类,……哟！这里都说了些什么呀？……不对！莫非是人类自己要走向衰微？总得这样吗？不对！——他们总是将颓废的东西奉为至上的法宝。这一点，难道有错？所谓无私的道德说教，乃是不折不扣的价值贬值——譬如，将陈述句“我要死去”转换为祈使句“你们都得死去”——其实说教者的语气又何止于“祈使”而已！这，难道不是事实？……这便是史间所兜售的道德逻辑，“唯一”的逻辑——所谓“无私”的道德义理——压根儿就违背了生命的意志，摧残了生命的根基——是，谓之“泯灭意志”〔26〕也。

——话头儿暂且搁在这里，这里不妨设定不是人类在退化，而是那些人类的寄生虫——神父、牧师及其僧侣们，借助于道德理念的威力，将他们自己提升为决定人类命运的群体——在基督教的道德理念中，他们凭着直觉神化了自己的权力……于是，鄙人的顿悟便由此而生了：人类的教导者们、领导者们，还包括那些神学研究者们，你们个个都是颓废的人：因此，务必对有碍于人类生命的一切价值（观）进行重新估定，对所有道德理念进行确切定义：道德理念——是颓废者们特有的癖性，其中隐藏着他们向人类生命复仇的阴谋——而且，隐藏得非常之巧妙。对于这一定义，鄙人非认真对待不可。

（八）

鄙人，说清楚了吗？——此前，并没有借扎拉图斯拉之口，说出五年前尚不得脱口而出的那句话。——揭去基督道德理念的假面具，乃是一件决不会有平静结局的事件——乃至会酿成一场空前的大灾难。谁揭开这个秘密，谁便是一支不可忽视的力量，便会像命运之神一般，主宰命运的沉浮，并由此，将人类历史一分为二。有人要生活在他之前，有人必生活在他之后……那是一次真理的电闪雷鸣，不偏不倚——撞击着基督立足的制高点：谁抓住了为之击毁的目标，谁便会清楚地看到握在手中的真谛——此刻，史间一贯被呼之为“真理”的东西，在一瞬间将被认定为最有害、最恶毒、最秘密的谎言；原来，“促进”人类的发展，不过是一个冠以“神圣”二字的托词，目的又无非是为了巧妙地吮吸生命本身，使之贫血化而已——基督的道德理念不过是叫人们去相信吸血鬼的那些把戏罢了……谁揭穿了道德理念的假面具，谁便同时揭开了所有价值观念的遮羞布；谁不再敬畏那些所谓最可尊敬——乃至已被宣告为圣徒一类的人，谁便会发现他们的致命伤——致命，乃是因为他们在玩弄把戏……“上帝”的问世，从一开始便构成了生命的对立面——一切都是有害的，有毒的，造谣中伤的，整个世间的敌意全冲着生命而来——从而构成了一个可怕的统一体！“此岸世界”和“彼岸世界”的割分，从一开始便剥夺了“唯有世界”〔27〕的真实价值——最终免除了人间真实生活的目标、理由和功课！“灵魂”、“精神”，乃至“不死的灵魂”，从一开始便忽略了躯体的价值，从而使之独具“神圣”而不得健康——于是，生命中所有的事情都得严肃地对待，唯独养分、居所、整洁乃至气候，偏偏成了无足轻重之事！不是使之健康，而是救其“灵魂”——岂不构成了：一个不断谢罪同耶稣救赎之间的无限循环！“罪孽”连同惩罚罪孽的手段——“严刑”，乃至“自由意志”的创造，其目的无非是将它们同人类的天性相混淆，从而将对天性的怀疑变成人类的第二天性！在“忘我”、“非我”的概念中，其颓废的实际象征性在于：迫于有害事物之引诱，而无以发现自身优势之所在；而“毁我”的实际象征性则在于：使症结的意义一般化，从而使“责任”、“神圣”和“牧师”的概念深入化！最终，最可怕的是，在“善者”的概念里，一切公共的事业都变得脆弱化、病态化而建构不良化，一切都因自我而遭罪，一切都因自我而灭亡——选举法被取消，一个同荣耀和高贵相对立、同拥护者相对立、同相信未来和保护未来者相对立的思想被唾弃——之后，后者便被呼作罪人……所有这一切，便是为人所信的基督道德理念之所为！

——无耻！见鬼去吧！——

（九）

鄙人，说清楚了吗？——一个同十字架水火不相容的狄俄尼索斯信徒……

注释

〔1〕此，系原文注释，英文原文是“We strive after the forbidden”（Ovid）。

〔2〕Zarathustra原译：《扎拉图斯拉如是说》，见陈鼓应著《尼采新论》之“尼采年谱”，世纪出版集团&上海人民出版社，2006年第一版，第156—212页；其他相关译著也多依这个译法，比如杨恒达等译《尼采生存哲学》，九州出版社，2003年第一版，第268页，等；另外，“扎拉图斯拉”尚有其他译法，如“查拉图斯特拉”、“查拉图斯拉”等，这里采用了《辞海》（上海辞书出版社，1979年第一版，第2246页）的说法。——译者注

〔3〕“will to power”是尼采哲学中的重要概念，原译为“权力意志”，陈鼓应先生以为不妥，因为在《扎拉图斯拉的独白》中，这种意志，乃是一种“创造生命的意志”（见陈鼓应著《尼采新论》之“序一：生命的驱动力——‘冲创意志’的理解”，世纪出版集团&上海人民出版社，2006年第一版，第1—2页），与权力并无牵连；现依陈说，译为“冲创意志”；另外，周国平先生则将其译为“强力意志”，亦无不妥，见周国平著《尼采：在世纪的转折点上》，世纪出版集团&上海人民出版社，1986年第一版，第87页；刘娟译《尼采传》（贵州人民出版社，2004年第一版）中也采用了“强力意志”的译法，见该书“目录”。——译者注

〔4〕“The Wanderer and his Shadow”是尼采36岁时的著述，原译《漂流者与其影子》，见张秀章等选编《尼采箴言录》，吉林人民出版社，2003年第一版，第202页；另有《漫游者及其影子》的译法，见陈鼓应著《尼采新论》之“尼采年谱”，世纪出版集团&上海人民出版社，2006年第一版。——译者注

〔5〕这里虽将“the individual”译为“一个特定的个体”，但是依据这里的语用环境，这个“特定的个体”实际上应该就是指“上帝”而言的。——译者注

〔6〕罗马历史家，86—34B.C.，著有《喀提林阴谋》、《朱古达战争》等。——译者注

〔7〕Schulpforta，原译“普福塔”，是尼采所在的中学校名，这里依音译采用了“舒尔普福塔”的地名译名（见《外国地名译名手册》，商务印书馆，1993年第一版），并在“舒尔”二字上加了括弧，以免误解。——译者注

〔8〕尼采的Laertiana全称应该是ANALECTA LAERTIANA。他的文章先附Diogenes Leartius（即《第欧根尼·拉尔修论集》）（Laertiana）的若干古希腊语文本，然后是分析性文字，而分析文字则多是拉丁语。足见，尼采语文学造诣之深厚。

〔9〕Montaigne，1533—1592，又译蒙台涅，文艺复兴时期法兰西思想家和散文作家，详见《辞海》（上海辞书出版社，1979年，第一版），第3725页。——译者注

〔10〕《曼弗雷德》，是拜伦于1817年发表的诗剧，反映他对欧洲民族解放运动的悲观失望情绪。——译者注

〔11〕浮士德，欧洲中世纪传说中的人物，为获得知识和权力，向魔鬼出卖自己的灵魂；德国作家歌德创作同名诗剧《浮士德》，这里的字里行间均流露出尼采并不看好歌德才华的情绪。——译者注

〔12〕撒克逊人是五、六世纪入侵不列颠并定居在那里的日耳曼民族，他们曾洗劫城镇和乡村，不列颠人或被杀戮，或沦为奴隶，或被驱赶至西部、西北部山区，大部分人则同入侵者融合，形成了后来的英格兰人（或称为英吉利人）。这里，尼采或许是因为撒克逊人的野蛮入侵而对其存有偏见。参见《中国大百科全书》（外国历史Ⅱ）：英国历史（第1095页），中国大百科全书出版社，北京，上海，1990年1月第一版。——译者注

〔13〕“Human, All Too Human”，原译：《人性的，太人性的》，见陈鼓应著《尼采新论》之“尼采年谱”，世纪出版集团&上海人民出版社，2006年第一版。——译者注

〔14〕这里的诗句已有一个译文，可以参阅，见张秀章等选编《尼采箴言录》（吉林人民出版社，2003年第一版），第161—162页。——译者注

〔15〕这里所述的道理，恰同国人之所谓“大智若愚”一般；于是，“特智”便“若灾”、“若难”了。——译者注

〔16〕“amor fati”，一个拉丁语汇，其大意是“love of fate”或者“love of one's fate”，里姑且译作“知命”，但并不等同于中国文化中的“知（天）命”；依据全书的语境，结合尼采的观点，这里的“知命”，应该解释为“知天性”才对，因为“知天性”便会爱生命，从而激活“创造生命的意志”（Der Wille zur Macht，即英文的“The Will to Power”），以资成就未来。——译者注the will to power，仍译为“冲创意之”，参见前文第14页注释7及第123页注释19。——译者注

〔17〕V. Widmann，又译惠特曼、魏得曼。——译者注。

〔18〕Beyond Good and Evil，译《善恶的彼岸》、一译《善与恶之外》、一译《尼采论善恶》，分别见：张秀章等选编《尼采箴言录》之“尼采年谱”，吉林人民出版社，2003年，第一版；陈鼓应著《尼采新论》之“尼采年谱”，世纪出版集团&上海人民出版社，2006年，第一版和朱泱译《尼采论善恶》，团结出版社，2006年，第一版。——译者注。

〔19〕“超人”（superman），是尼采哲学中的重要概念，是他在新的世界观、人生观和价值观的基础上所设定的新价值的创造者；尼采的理想人格是由“超人”来代表的，尼采的哲学理念是由“超人”去体现的，因而尼采的哲学也是以超人学说而著称的。——译者注。

〔20〕尼采自称波兰人的后裔，又以法兰西人为至尊，于是：当受到斯拉夫人群的敬重时，自然会感慨一番了。——译者注

〔21〕Horace，又译霍瑞斯，65—8B.C., 原名Quintus Horatius Flaccus，罗马诗人及讽刺文学家。——译者注

〔22〕毋庸讳言，这里用“她”指代《扎拉图斯拉的独白》一书是不大恰当的，因为尼采的骨子里是蔑视女性的，姑且用之。——译者注

〔23〕这里将“new ill will”译为“从未意识到的、奇怪的意志”。其实，依据这里的语境，这种意志就是陈鼓应先生所译的“冲创意志”，即所谓“创造生命的意志”，参见前文第14页注释7及第123页注释19。——译者注。

〔24〕这里，依据上下文将“fundamental will”译为“冲创意志的基因”，可参考前文第14页注释7及第123页注释19及其他相关注释。——译者注

〔25〕同上文的“冲创意志”（the will to the power）相对，这里将“the will to the lie”译为“扯谎意念”，以构成一对相反相成的汉译概念，因为在尼采那里二者本来就是一对因对立而存在的哲学概念；另外参见前文第14页注释7及第123页注释19及其他相关注释。——译者注

〔26〕依据行文的逻辑——先有“冲创意志”，后有“扯谎意志”，故将这里的“a will to the end”再译为“泯灭意志”，相为呼应。——译者注

〔27〕将”the only world”译为“唯有世界”，以资区别于基督世界的“此岸世界”与“彼岸世界”，从而凸显尼采的真实世界观。——译者注

真理的曙光

——铁锤，何以矫正以往的哲理？

箴言，足以抒怀！

1．心理学起步于无所事事。

什么是心理学？——一种恶习？

2．勇者未必勇于其所知。

3．隐身者，不为畜牲，必为上帝——亚里斯多德如是说；不过，也有例外，那便是：既为畜牲，又为上帝——一位哲人补充道。

4．“是真理，皆便宜”——莫非是谎言不成？——

5．够了，烦死人了。——智慧，绝非卖弄之所及也。

6．听其“自然”——身，便不“紧张”；心，则会自由。

7．告诉我——那到底是：上帝造就人类之误？还是人类崇信上帝之错？

8．在生命的战场上驰骋——不被枪杀，便会强大。

9．自助者，人助之。——基督慈善者之原则。

10．行动起来吧，勇敢地！不要见死不救！——事后忏悔，无济于事！

11．驴子尚堪悲哀乎？为包袱所压，不必忍受，不必摆脱？……有哲学家如是说。

12．知道了活着的理由，何必在乎活着的方式？人，何必为福分所累？不过，对于英吉利人，则另当别论了。

13．男人造就了女人——什么造就了男人？上帝的肋骨，上帝的“理想”……

14．汝，追寻什么？十倍于汝？百倍于汝？鲜花于汝？——岂不水中捞月，一场空也！

15．生不逢时者，不如时髦之士为人所信；然则，为人所闻者，多不胜数矣！鄙人，便是了。准而言之：鄙人一方，不求人知——此，为官者尚不例外……

16．女流之际——可有“真理”？哟，她们并不晓得真理，对吧？这样说，还不至于造成彼此廉耻之心的伤害吧？

17．艺术家便是艺术家，其要求总是低微的——其奢望总是简单的：面包与艺术——生计与追寻……

18．不善养意志者，必善找借口——意志是不养自成的（“信仰”的原则）。

19．奇怪！有德行和博大襟怀的人，眼睛偏偏盯上了老百姓度日的那点儿优越性——这些人到底要做什么？——有“德行”，弃“实惠”……（反犹太主义者的家门上都这么写）。

20．一个十足的女人糟蹋学问，便像踩死了一只脚下的蚂蚁一般若无其事；而在她横过马路的时候，却又像在做什么试探一般小心翼翼——东张张，西望望，瞧瞧有什么人在“回眸”，以便引起人家的再“回眸”……

21．虚幻的德行，在以下的情形下是吃不开的：一个在钢丝上走路的人，要么便走稳了，要么便会掉下来，要么还得跳下来……

22．“不法分子无遁词”——怎么俄罗斯人偏偏尽废话？

23．“德意志的智慧”：熬过十八年，干戈化玉帛。

24．寻找初始者的踪迹，常常得学着螃蟹横向而行，寻找历史的轨迹，偏偏得学会倒退逆流而上；于是，一位历史学家，往往是一个宁信前贤，不信后秀的人。

25．据说，惬意的感觉足以抵御流感的袭击——谁见过一位穿着时髦的女人得了感冒症？！——其实，女人几乎是不必穿什么东西的。

26．对于主张条理化者，鄙人一概表示怀疑，并敬而远之。因为，接近条理化，必然疏远综合化。

27．女流多“深沉”——何以见得？——谁也很难摸清她们的“底”。其实，不如说女流从来不肤浅便是了。

28．一个阳刚之气十足的女人，你要远离她；一位阴柔气象饱满的女子，她会撇开你。

29．“良心何曾咬过你的牙！真个的，是好牙幺！今天，又是哪里不舒服？”——牙科大夫如是说。

30．鲁莽而轻率之举，少有一而止者也。何？首举，损多而益少，不安。故，举其二，随乃慎而为之者也……

31．遭遇践踏之际，蠕虫便会卷起身来。此，精明之举也——足以减少为人蹂躏之几率。依伦理学之术语而言：乃“谦卑”者也。

32．恨透了谎言，伪君子们便本能地露出他们虚荣的面目来；于是，便以牙还牙地憎恨那些懦弱的人——以便杜绝他们的扯谎。因为，既为懦夫，岂可扯谎？……

33．幸福的代价太低了——不过一个风笛的价值而已。——没有音乐的生活是悲哀的——不过，德意志人则会把上帝的声音当作音乐的。

34．虚无主义是不让“人们思考和写作”（G. 弗劳伯特），因为那是没有意义的——鄙人，终于了解了你，虚无主义的同胞！刻苦、勤奋乃至兢兢业业，都是对神圣精神的冒犯——唯有那马路边的逛游中得来的主意才是最有价值的。

35．心理学家们，常常像马匹一般焦虑不安而难以驾驭——看着自己的影子在面前晃动；谁晓得：他们得离开原本固定的位置，便足以欣赏到更为广阔的景象。

36．非道德主义者，在多大程度上伤害了所谓的德行？——哪知道：远不如无政府主义者伤害了所谓的王权。一旦他们王冠的权威受到了冲击，他们一定会加固自己王权的宝座。所谓的德行：必须受到冲击。

37．你，又要走啦？——这回，该像牧人一般了？难道是偶然间，就这一回了？不过，要是第三回的话，你还可以像逃兵一般地……良心第一问。

38．你是在玩真的？还是在演戏？是代替人家？还是得人家代替？——噢，原来你不过是在摹仿演戏而已……良心第二问。

39．鄙人，寻找过伟人的踪迹——不过，除了其理想的光环以外，便一无所获了。——失落者如是说

40．你是要旁观？还是要介入？还是要离开——远观？……良心第三问。

41．是同行呢？还是前行？是前行呢？还是独行？一个人，必须明白自己要做什么、自己在做什么。——良心第四问。

42．于我，这些不过是台阶而已；攀上台阶，只是要越过台阶。奇怪的是，有人总以为：鄙人要定居在台阶之上……

43．证明你对了，又能怎么样！鄙人的问题是，对的次数太多了。——今天，你笑得最好；最后，你还得笑得最好。

44．鄙人，幸福的妙诀——是也，非也，一条直线、一个目标……

贻误，独有四遭！

（一）

首误者，乃原因结果之错位也。——没有什么贻误比将原因同过程相混淆更危险的了。鄙人，将它看作颓废的内在原因所在。而且，从古至今，它都足以称得上是最古老而又最年轻的习惯性贻误了：因为，在人们的心中它已经被正当化——乃至于被奉若神明，名之曰“宗教”，名之曰“道德”。每一条宗教和道德的教义中都包含着这些内容，神父及其道德条律的制订者们都是颓废原因的炮制者。——这里，试举一例，以便说明这个道理。众所周知，在《科尔纳罗节食主义》一书中，作者将其“瘦身食谱”作为长寿和幸福的秘诀推销给读者——而且，是作为最有效力的道德处方兜售给读者的。很少有什么书会流传如此之广泛；即便在今天，在英格兰每年都有成千上万册的《瘦身食谱》付诸印刷。鄙人从不怀疑：除了《圣经》以外，没有任何书的危害会比《瘦身食谱》更大，缩短寿命的几率会比《瘦身食谱》更多，这是奇迹，名副其实的奇迹——其伪装是何等的巧妙，乃至于无人可以察觉。究其理论原因之所在：无非是将过程误以为是原因罢了。聪明的意大利人从其食谱中悟出了“长寿”的秘诀：要“长寿”者，必备一个迟缓的新陈代谢系统；要“长寿”者，必具一个偌小的消化能量——此，便是《瘦身食谱》的先决条件。吃多，吃少，不由食者自己决定；省食，节约，也不是食者自己的“意愿”：因为，多吃了，食者便会得病。相反，如果食者没能成为那种骨瘦如柴的坯子，食者还得继续按部就班地依食谱用膳。于是，一个我们这个时代的学者，如果需要大量的智能消耗，他便只能成为科尔纳罗主义摄生法的牺牲品了。

这便是——科尔纳罗节食主义的信条。——

（二）

各种宗教及其教义最普遍的布道方式是：“做……，如此这般；忍……，如此这般——你便会幸福！否则……如此这般，……”每一种教义，每一种宗教都是必须履行的责任。——鄙人，将此唤作元罪恶的起因——不朽的荒唐，莫名的失常。谁晓得，这种布道的方式已经走向了它的反面——而成为鄙人“重估一切价值”的第一个案例：一个神志清楚的人，一个“幸福的人”，必定做出某种行为，而对其他的行为又必定做出某种本能的回避，同时将这种生理感受的过程传递给与他相关的人和事。在这一过程中：他的德行便是他幸福的结果……长寿和多子多孙并不是对德行的奖赏，因为德行本身意味着新陈代谢的降低，而新陈代谢的降低即便是在其他物种之际，也会长寿，也能多子多孙。简言之，这便是科尔纳罗节食主义的结果。教会及其教义都认为：“罪孽和奢华足以使一个种族、一个民族灭亡。”鄙人的回答则是：从生理学的意义上讲，当一个民族走向退化、濒临灭亡时，罪孽和奢华便由然而生了。换言之，一旦一个民族有对奢侈物的需求越来越强、越来越大的时候，其心灵便会感到极度的疲劳；而一个年轻人，则会过早地憔悴和衰老。于是，他的朋友们便会说：那都是某种疾病所致。可是，鄙人以为：一个人得了病而无力抵抗，乃是他生命枯竭和遗传性疲劳的表现。有报纸的读者说：如果总是这样的阴差阳错，这个群体便会毁灭自身。一位高级政治人士则会说：一个经常阴差阳错的群体实际上已经结束了自己的生命——因为，就其本能而言，这个群体已经不再安逸。每一个贻误，不管是什么样的贻误，都是本能退化的结果，都是意志退化的结果：因此，人们需要从德行上给“坏事”（贻误）下一个定义。每一件善事都是生性如此——因而也是轻松的，必要的，自由的。而每一次尝试，则都是有缺陷的——上帝同勇士不同，要特别地加以区分（用鄙人的话说便是：脚轻，乃上帝之重要属性也）。

（三）

二误者，乃因果关系之不实也。

人们总以为自己是知道事情的原委的：然而，人们的知识从何而来？准确地讲：人们为什么要相信自己所拥有的知识呢？是从宗教王国的“灵光”里来的吗？迄今为止的事实，尚不足以证明这些都是真的。在意愿行为中，人们总以为自己是事物的动因；至少，会以为自己是在这一过程中捕捉事物的因果关系。于是，人们从不怀疑意识活动便是在寻找所有行为的“前提”——原因；而且，只要人们寻找它们，人们便会发现它们——行为的“动机”：因为，一旦离开了动机，人们便不能自由行为，自然也便谈不上为行为负责了。既然如此，谁还会争辩思想是由什么引起的问题呢？谁还会怀疑思想便是“自己”产生的命题呢？……在以上三个直接同因果关系相连的“内因”中，最重要且最富说服力的原因便是意志；作为原因的意识（思维）和作为原因的“自我”（主体），不过是因果关系中作为经验主义，在意志的基础上建立起来的一个已知事实所产生的附属概念而已。……之后，人们便可以较好地思考了。如今，人们绝不轻信只言片语。因为，“内部世界”充满了不确定的因素和不可靠的线索：意志便是其中之一。意志不会激活什么，因而便不再说明什么——意志只是事件的伴随物而已，因而便可以忽略不计。而所谓“动机”：其实，又是一个误会。因为，它不过是意识的一个表面现象，行为的一个伴随物罢了，与其说它揭示了行为的“前提”，不如说它隐蔽了行为的“前提”更准确一些。至于，“自我主义”，则完全是一个无稽之谈，一个虚构的概念，一个文字游戏罢了：正是它全然窒息了思维、感觉和意志！之后，还会发生什么呢？其实，从来就没有什么精神的理由！一切支撑精神理由的所谓经验主义见鬼去吧！这便是随后发生的事！——人们巧妙地滥用了“经验主义”，而正是在经验主义的基础上，人们创设了一个新的世界——一个理由的世界，一个意志的世界，一个精神的世界。还好，一个最为古老而长寿的心理学在这里发生了作用——的确，它并不神秘：对于它，每一个事件都是一个行为；每一个行为都是一个意志的反映——于是，整个世界便构成了一个多元的动因复合体，一个附着在每一个事件上的动因（“主体”）复合物。人们在其自身之外，设计了三个“内因”——“意志”、“精神”和“自我”，并且对其深信不疑——同时，还由“自我”的概念中导出“存在”的概念来，并且根据自己的形象假定“物”便是人们所拥有的东西，根据“自我”的概念假定“物”便是引发事件的原因。难怪，后来人们从“物”中所发现的总是他们原来所置入的东西！——需要重申的是：“物”本身，或者“物”这个概念不过是作为“自我”的信念对原因的反映而已……机械论者、物理学家——先生们，你们可曾晓得：即便是你们的原子论学说，依然存在不少疑问，依然包含了不少基本的心理学问题！——这里姑且不论“具体”怎么样了，难道你们不会“脸红”，不会“惊诧”吗？尊敬的玄学家们！将精神领域的贻误，当作事物发生的理由，从而加以实地应用，并以此来度量现实！这，便是人们奉之为“上帝”的精神境界了！

（四）

三误者，乃事物原因之虚构也。

——这里，就从一个梦中的故事说起吧：比如，在某种意义上，一个远程炮弹的射程，总会被顺理成章地误计为发射炮弹的原因所在——其实，准确地说，在这个滑稽的故事中，其主人公，不过是做梦者一人而已，颇有点耸人听闻的味道。不仅如此，这种“感受”还会被当作一种共鸣而继续流传：一般都是维持现状，一旦有了机会，这种“虚构原因”便会自动占据突出的地位——于是，这便不再是一个偶然的事件，而是一个必须追究“意味”的问题了。炮弹的射入是有原因的，又是逆时序而展开的，这是显而易见的。然而，动机作为后来的东西却被首先经历了，而且常常像电闪雷鸣一般被数以百计的细节所掩盖，随之炮弹才射入的……究竟发生了什么？概念被误解了——由某种状态所引起的结果，被人们以引起这种状态的原因而接受。——其实，人们完全可以在梦醒之后，试做同一件事情。这样，人们就会发现，在这一过程中，大多数人的一般感觉都是——抑制、压迫、紧张和突然，人们的器官特别是神经系统便会做出相应的反应——（从而）激活体内虚构原因的心理机制；在这一过程中，人们总想知道引起各种感觉的原因——为什么会感觉良好，又为什么会感觉不好？然而，仅仅知道人们在感觉这个事实，还是很不够：人们还得感谢这个事实——因为，只有人们带着某种动机完成了这一事件——才能意识到这个事实。在这种情况下，记忆会在人们并没有意识到的情况下，回忆起先前的同类情形，并且将由这种状态所产生的结果翻译成“原因”——而不是因果关系。毫无疑问，认为这些观念（即在意识中所伴随发生的观念），都是原因的观点也是由记忆所唤醒的东西。因此，将某种状态所产生的结果解读为“原因”的情形，便形成了定势，乃至于从事实上阻塞或者阻止了人们探知事物真正原因的通路。

（五）

关于原因虚构的心理学诠释。

——从未知，追溯已知，乃是一种消解痛楚、抚慰心灵，从而使人的欲念得以满足的心理过程；而且，这一过程还足以给人充实的感觉。危险、骚扰和焦虑伴随未知——第一天性之功用在于驱除这些消极的情绪。于是，这里的第一原则便是：有所解释总比无所解释好。因为，实际上，这是一个如何摆脱无以忍受之观念的问题；而为了摆脱这些观念，人们并不十分在乎用什么手段：第一种观点认为，其实，未知就是已知，只是因为“已知”对他们有太多的好处，致使人们将其奉为“真理”而已。快乐和效力，乃是一个真理的准则。——可见，虚构原因的心理机制便是靠可怕的感觉来维持并激活的。如果可能，这里还得说明其“为什么”的问题。单就原因而言，并不是所有的原因都能成其为原因的——即成其为抚慰心灵、释放积怨、舒缓压力之原因。一切已知的、已经历的和贮存在记忆之中的事物都被设定为原因，这便是需要的第一个结果。而一切新的、未经历的、奇怪的东西又都被排除在原因之外。——于是，就不仅需要对原因进行解释，对精选或优选类型进行解释，而且还需要对以最快的速度和最高的频率将新的、未经历的、奇怪的感觉排除在外的过程进行解释——这些，便是最普通的解释类型了。——而进行这些解释的结果则会：导致一种特殊的原因归属型解释越来越占优势，并且集中于一个系统之中，从而最终支配其他类型的解释；换言之，原因归属型解释便会直接将其他原因及其解释类型全都排除在外。

——一位银行家，最先想到的一定是他的“生意”；一个基督徒，最先想到的一定是他的“罪孽”；而一位美女，最先想到的则一定是她的爱情。

（六）

整个道德和宗教的王国都应该归属于原因虚构的范畴之内。

——关于心理“不悦”感的阐释。

“不悦”或者“不快”的感觉可能来自他人对我们的敌意（或者邪念：最富有宗教意味的情形——常被误以为是女巫歇斯底里的发作）。这种感觉，也可能来自我们无以证明的行为（譬如“罪孽”感、由于生理不适而引起的“自责”感——因为，人们总会为自己不如意的事情找个理由）。这种感觉，可能来自惩罚、来自“报应”——人们本不应该欠的债、本不应该还的情（在叔本华的概括中这些都是厚颜无耻的东西，其哲学命题是：它反映了基督道德的真实面目，是对生命的亵渎与中伤：“每一次巨痛——无论是生理的还是心理的，都值得人们承受；因为，如果它不值得人们承受，它便不会问津于人们的。”《意志与理想的世界》第二部分第666页）。这种感觉，还可能由草率的、拙劣的行为所诱发（——被设定为“原因”而“应该责备”的情绪、情感和意识；被解读为由心理上理应承受的忧伤所引起生理痛苦）。

——关于心理“愉悦”感的阐释。

这种感觉，可能来自对上帝的信任；这种感觉，可能来自对善行的意识（有时，就连一个诸如良好消化一类的生理状态，也会被误以为是所谓的“良心”的）；这种感觉，可能来自成功的喜悦（——一个天真的谬论：在自疑病或者帕斯卡症的状态下，即便成功了也绝不会带来什么愉快感觉的）；这种感觉，还可能来自信任、希望和基督教徒之间的兄弟之爱——所谓基督之德行。——实际上，所有这些预设性的阐释都是从结果上考虑问题的，而且似乎将“愉悦”感和“不悦”感全都解读为某种虚伪的“方言”了：人之所以处于希望的状态，乃是因为作为其生理基本的感觉是强悍的、充裕的；人之所以相信上帝，乃是因为丰富而强悍的感觉足以使之平静下来。——足见，道德与宗教完全陷入了错误的心理学阐释之中：在每一种具体的情形下，它们——或者，把原因错误地当成了结果；或者，将这个信以为真的结果错误地当成了真理；或者，将某种意识下的状态错误地当成了这一状态的因果关系。

（七）

四误者，乃自由意志之失也。

如今，无论在什么意义上，人们都已经不再赞同“自由意志”的观念了：因为，“自由意志”意味着什么，人们是非常地清楚的：声名狼藉的神学之士们，其所有的手段，不过是为了使人类在神学的意义上负有他们自己的责任和义务罢了；换言之，不过是为了使人类紧紧地依附于“神”的威力而已……于是，鄙人的责任便在于对此作一个心理学的解读。

——神学的责任及其义务是无处不在的；否则，惩罚和裁判便会自然而然地一起找上你的门来。如果考察一下一个人处在某种状态下的意志、意图及其责任和义务行为的话，便足以察觉其天真无邪的天性已然被剥夺殆尽：其实，“意志”教义所创设的基本目的原本便是为了惩罚人们；换言之，原本便是为了让人们找到负罪的感觉。整个旧日的心理学——关于意志的心理学，都是以作者的主观企望为出发点的。于是，旧日主持社区活动的牧师们，便为他们自己设定了颁布惩罚条例的权力——乃至于企望同时再为上帝设定一个颁布惩罚条例的权力……在这些条例中，人被认为是“自由的”，乃是为了让他们找到负罪的感觉：于是，每一个行为都得被认为是自愿的；换言之，每一个行为都是发自个体自我意识的——就这样，心理学中最虚伪的东西竟变成了最基本的东西，从而编入了心理学的每一条原则……如今，当人们从相反的立场上审度问题的时候，特别是当我们非道德主义者竭尽全力，以便从地球上驱除伏罪和惩罚的理念，从而净化心理学、史学、人性，乃至社会诸部门及其法令条款之环境的时候，扑入我们视野的依然是神学之士们的激进主张——这些主张，依然无从与世俗的观念同日而语——依然在利用道德秩序的理念，通过“惩罚”和“伏罪”的手段，浸染着人类天真无邪的心灵。

足见，基督教之品性——不过是刽子手们独有的形而上之学罢了……

（八）

那么，我们的学说又该是什呢？

——从来便没有什么救世主，足以改变人类的禀性：上帝不会，社会不会，父母不会，祖上不会，人类自己也不会（——康德提出过一个最终为人们所拒绝的荒谬概念，叫做“概念自由”；在康德之前，或许柏拉图也曾涉及过这一概念）。没有人可以替自身的存在、对自身的模样、或者对其所生存的环境，负有什么责任、义务之类的事情。决定人类天性的东西是很难同决定其阅历和命运的东西分得清楚的。人类的命运，不是靠一个特殊的设计、意愿、企图便可以决定的；人类的问题，也不是靠实现几个“人之典范”、“福之样板”乃至“德之化身”便足以解决的——足见，企图给人类的天性设定某种人为的“目标”之类东西，乃是一种荒唐的做法。这里，之所以借用“目标”这个概念的原因在于：在现实中，是没有什么目标的……“一”是必要的，“一”是未来的一部分，“一”属于整体，“一”在整体之中——从来就没有什么能够判断、测度、比喻，乃至惩罚我们人格的——因为，那样会导致人类之整体为之所判断、所揣度、所比喻，乃至所惩罚……离开了人类之整体，一切都将不复存在！于是，谁都不再负有责任和义务，而所谓人格的表现也将无以追溯其恰当的原因，作为整体的世界便既不是感觉的中枢，也不再有“精神”的问题——惟此，方是伟大的革命——惟此，方足以恢复人性之清白与无辜……足见，“上帝”——才是迄今为止人类生存的最大障碍……我们否认上帝；而在否认上帝的同时，我们便否认了上帝所赋予人类的责任和义务：唯此，方足以救赎世界的未来。

铁锤，为我代言！

“何以如此之坚硬？”木炭曾对钻石说，“莫非是因为：彼此尚不够亲近？”

“何以如此之软弱？”哟，我的兄弟们，我这里还得问问你们呢：“莫非是因为：彼此尚不是兄弟？”

何以如此之软弱？无以抵抗，还是卑躬屈节？何必抑郁，何必克制？莫非命运之前景，如此之渺茫？

如果——你不是命运之神，如果——你不够百折不挠：你，何以同鄙人分享胜利之喜悦？

如果你的“坚硬”不足以击败对手，而是被对手击得溃不成军：有一天，你——又何以同鄙人一起，再造那崭新的世界？

如果所有的创造都是“坚硬”的。那么——何不将你的手紧贴在千年祈福的祭坛上？——恰似紧贴在平日里祈福的烛台前——那种感觉，一定是幸福的。

将你千年至福的意愿记下来——恰似记录在金属制成的模板上——比金属要“坚硬”，比金属要高贵：因为最高贵的，乃是最“坚硬”的。

这，便是新制的法台，我一定要将它递给您；哟，我的兄弟们：“坚硬”起来吧！

Friedrich Nietzsche

Why I am so wise

TRANSLATED BY R. J. HOLLINGDALE

PENGUIN BOOKS-GREAT IDEAS

英文目录
Contents

Ecce Homo

How One Becomes What One Is

Foreword

Why I am So Wise

Why I am So Clever

Why I Write Such Good Books

Why I am a Destiny

Twilight of the Idols
or How to Philosophize with a Hammer

Maxims and Arrows

The Four Great Errors

The Hammer Speaks

返回总目录

Ecce Homo

How One Becomes What One Is

Foreword

1

SEEING that I must shortly approach mankind with the heaviest demand that has ever been made on it, it seems to me indispensable to say who I am. This ought really to be known already: for I have not neglected to 'bear witness' about myself. But the disparity between the greatness of my task and the smallness of my contemporaries has found expression in the fact that I have been neither heard nor even so much as seen. I live on my own credit, it is perhaps merely a prejudice that I am alive at all?... I need only to talk with any of the 'cultured people' who come to the Ober-Engadin in the summer to convince myself that I am not alive... Under these circumstances there exists a duty against which my habit, even more the pride of my instincts revolts, namely to say: Listen to me! for I am thus and thus. Do not, above all, confound me with what I am not!

2

I am, for example, absolutely not a bogey-man, not a moral-monster - I am even an antithetical nature to the species of man hitherto honoured as virtuous. Between ourselves, it seems to me that precisely this constitutes part of my pride. I am a disciple of the philosopher Dionysos, I prefer to be even a satyr rather than a saint. But you have only to read this writing. Perhaps I have succeeded in giving expression to this antithesis in a cheerful and affable way - perhaps this writing had no point at all other than to do this. The last thing I would promise would be to 'improve' mankind. I erect no new idols; let the old idols learn what it means to have legs of clay. To overthrow idols (my word for 'ideals') - that rather is my business. Reality has been deprived of its value, its meaning, its veracity to the same degree as an ideal world has been fabricated... The 'real world' and the 'apparent world' - in plain terms: the fabricated world and reality... The lie of the ideal has hitherto been the curse on reality, through it mankind itself has become mendacious and false down to its deepest instincts - to the point of worshipping the inverse values to those which alone could guarantee it prosperity, future, the exalted right to a future.

3

He who knows how to breathe the air of my writings knows that it is an air of the heights, a robust air. One has to be made for it, otherwise there is no small danger one will catch cold. The ice is near, the solitude is terrible - but how peacefully all things lie in the light! how freely one breathes! how much one feels beneath one! - Philosophy, as I have hitherto understood and lived it, is a voluntary living in ice and high mountains - a seeking after everything strange and questionable in existence, all that has hitherto been excommunicated by morality. From the lengthy experience afforded by such a wandering in the forbidden I learned to view the origin of moralizing and idealizing very differently from what might be desirable: the hidden history of the philosophers, the psychology of their great names came to light for me. - How much truth can a spirit bear, how much truth can a spirit dare? that became for me more and more the real measure of value. Error (- belief in the ideal -) is not blindness, error is cowardice... Every acquisition, every step forward in knowledge is the result of courage, of severity towards oneself, of cleanliness with respect to oneself... I do not refute ideals, I merely draw on gloves in their presence... Nitimur in vetitum:★ in this sign my philosophy will one day conquer, for what has hitherto been forbidden on principle has never been anything but the truth.-

4

- Within my writings my Zarathustra stands by itself. I have with this book given mankind the greatest gift that has ever been given it. With a voice that speaks across millennia, it is not only the most exalted book that exists, the actual book of the air of the heights - the entire fact man lies at a tremendous distance beneath it - it is also the profoundest, born out of the innermost abundance of truth, an inexhaustible well into which no bucket descends without coming up filled with gold and goodness. Here there speaks no 'prophet', none of those gruesome hybrids of sickness and will to power called founders of religions. One has above all to hear correctly the tone that proceeds from this mouth, this halcyon tone, if one is not to do pitiable injustice to the meaning of its wisdom. 'It is the stillest words which bring the storm, thoughts that come on doves' feet guide the world -'

The figs are falling from the trees, they are fine and sweet: and as they fall their red skins split. I am a north wind to ripe figs.

Thus, like figs, do these teachings fall to you, my friends: now drink their juice and eat their sweet flesh! It is autumn all around and clear sky and afternoon -

Here there speaks no fanatic, here there is no 'preaching', here faith is not demanded: out of an infinite abundance of light and depth of happiness there falls drop after drop, word after word - a tender slowness of pace is the tempo of these discourses. Such things as this reach only the most select; it is an incomparable privilege to be a listener here; no one is free to have ears for Zarathustra ... With all this, is Zarathustra not a seducer?... But what does he himself say when for the first time he again goes back into his solitude? Precisely the opposite of that which any sort of 'sage', 'saint', 'world-redeemer' and other décadent would say in such a case... He does not only speak differently, he is different...

I now go away alone, my disciples! You too now go away and be alone! So I will have it.

Go away from me and guard yourselves against Zarathustra! And better still: be ashamed of him! Perhaps he has deceived you.

The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.

One repays a teacher badly if one remains only a pupil. And why, then, should you not pluck at my laurels?

You respect me; but how if one day your respect should tumble? Take care that a falling statue does not strike you dead!

You say you believe in Zarathustra? But of what importance is Zarathustra? You are my believers: but of what importance are all believers?

You had not yet sought yourselves when you found me. Thus do all believers; therefore all belief is of so little account.

Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will I return to you...

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

On this perfect day, when everything has become ripe and not only the grapes are growing brown, a ray of sunlight has fallen on to my life: I looked behind me, I looked before me, never have I seen so many and such good things together. Not in vain have I buried my forty-fourth year today, I was entitled to bury it - what there was of life in it is rescued, is immortal. The first book of the Revaluation of all Values, the Songs of Zarathustra, the Twilight of the Idols, my attempt to philosophize with a hammer - all of them gifts of this year, of its last quarter even! How should I not be grateful to my whole life? - And so I tell myself my life.

Why I am So Wise

1

THE fortunateness of my existence, its uniqueness perhaps, lies in its fatality: to express it in the form of a riddle, as my father I have already died, as my mother I still live and grow old. This twofold origin, as it were from the highest and the lowest rung of the ladder of life, at once décadent and beginning - this if anything explains that neutrality, that freedom from party in relation to the total problem of life which perhaps distinguishes me. I have a subtler sense for signs of ascent and decline than any man has ever had, I am the teacher par excellence in this matter - I know both, I am both. - My father died at the age of thirty-six: he was delicate, lovable and morbid, like a being destined to pay this world only a passing visit - a gracious reminder of life rather than life itself. In the same year in which his life declined mine too declined: in the thirty-sixth year of my life I arrived at the lowest point of my vitality - I still lived, but without being able to see three paces in front of me. At that time - it was 1879 - I relinquished my Basel professorship, lived through the summer like a shadow in St Moritz and the following winter, the most sunless of my life, as a shadow in Naumburg. This was my minimum: 'The Wanderer and his Shadow' came into existence during the course of it. I undoubtedly knew all about shadows in those days... In the following winter, the first winter I spent in Genoa, that sweetening and spiritualization which is virtually inseparable from an extreme poverty of blood and muscle produced 'Daybreak'. The perfect brightness and cheerfulness, even exuberance of spirit reflected in the said work is in my case compatible not only with the profoundest physiological weakness, but even with an extremity of pain. In the midst of the torments which attended an uninterrupted three-day headache accompanied by the laborious vomiting of phlegm - I possessed a dialectical clarity par excellence and thought my way very cold-bloodedly through things for which when I am in better health I am not enough of a climber, not refined, not cold enough. My readers perhaps know the extent to which I regard dialectics as a symptom of décadence, for example in the most famous case of all: in the case of Socrates. - All morbid disturbances of the intellect, even that semistupefaction consequent on fever, have remained to this day totally unfamiliar things to me, on their nature and frequency I had first to instruct myself by scholarly methods. My blood flows slowly. No one has ever been able to diagnose fever in me. A doctor who treated me for some time as a nervous case said at last: 'No! there is nothing wrong with your nerves, it is only I who am nervous.' Any kind of local degeneration absolutely undemonstrable; no organically originating stomach ailment, though there does exist, as a consequence of general exhaustion, a profound weakness of the gastric system. Condition of the eyes, sometimes approaching dangerously close to blindness, also only consequence, not causal: so that with every increase in vitality eyesight has also again improved. - Convalescence means with me a long, all too long succession of years - it also unfortunately means relapse, deterioration, periods of a kind of décadence. After all this do I need to say that in questions of décadence I am experienced? I have spelled it out forwards and backwards. Even that filigree art of grasping and comprehending in general, that finger for nuances, that psychology of 'looking around the corner' and whatever else characterizes me was learned only then, is the actual gift of that time in which everything in me became more subtle, observation itself together with all the organs of observation. To look from a morbid perspective towards healthier concepts and values, and again conversely to look down from the abundance and certainty of rich life into the secret labour of the instinct of décadence - that is what I have practised most, it has been my own particular field of experience, in this if in anything I am a master. I now have the skill and knowledge to invert perspectives: first reason why a 'revaluation of values' is perhaps possible at all to me alone. -

2

Setting aside the fact that I am a décadent, I am also its antithesis. My proof of this is, among other things, that in combating my sick conditions I always instinctively chose the right means: while the décadent as such always chooses the means harmful to him. As summa summarum I was healthy, as corner, as speciality I was décadent. That energy for absolute isolation and detachment from my accustomed circumstances, the way I compelled myself no longer to let myself be cared for, served, doctored - this betrayed an unconditional certainty of instinct as to what at that time was needful above all else. I took myself in hand, I myself made myself healthy again: the precondition for this - every physiologist will admit it - is that one is fundamentally healthy. A being who is typically morbid cannot become healthy, still less can he make himself healthy; conversely, for one who is typically healthy being sick can even be an energetic stimulant to life, to more life. Thus in fact does that long period of sickness seem to me now: I discovered life as it were anew, myself included, I tasted all good and even petty things in a way that others could not easily taste them - I made out of my will to health, to life, my philosophy... For pay heed to this: it was in the years of my lowest vitality that I ceased to be a pessimist: the instinct for self-recovery forbade to me a philosophy of indigence and discouragement... And in what does one really recognize that someone has turned out well! In that a human being who has turned out well does our senses good: that he is carved out of wood at once hard, delicate and sweet-smelling. He has a taste only for what is beneficial to him; his pleasure, his joy ceases where the measure of what is beneficial is overstepped. He divines cures for injuries, he employs ill chances to his own advantage; what does not kill him makes him stronger. Out of everything he sees, hears, experiences he instinctively collects together his sum: he is a principle of selection, he rejects much. He is always in his company, whether he traffics with books, people or landscapes: he does honour when he chooses, when he admits, when he trusts. He reacts slowly to every kind of stimulus, with that slowness which a protracted caution and a willed pride have bred in him - he tests an approaching stimulus, he is far from going out to meet it. He believes in neither 'misfortune' nor in 'guilt': he knows how to forget - he is strong enough for everything to have to turn out for the best for him. Very well, I am the opposite of a décadent: for I have just described myself.

3

I consider the fact that I had such a father as a great privilege: the peasants he preached to - for, after he had lived for several years at the court of Altenburg, he was a preacher in his last years - said that the angels must look like he did. And with this I touch on the question of race. I am a pure-blooded Polish nobleman, in whom there is no drop of bad blood, least of all German. When I look for my profoundest opposite, the incalculable pettiness of the instincts, I always find my mother and my sister - to be related to such canaille would be a blasphemy against my divinity. The treatment I have received from my mother and my sister, up to the present moment, fills me with inexpressible horror: there is an absolutely hellish machine at work here, operating with infallible certainty at the precise moment when I am most vulnerable - at my highest moments... for then one needs all one's strength to counter such a poisonous viper... physiological contiguity renders such a disharmonia praestabilita possible... But I confess that the deepest objection to the 'Eternal Recurrence', my real idea from the abyss, is always my mother and my sister. - But even as a Pole I am a monstrous atavism. One would have to go back centuries to find this noblest of races that the earth has ever possessed in so instinctively pristine a degree as I present it. I have, against everything that is today called noblesse, a sovereign feeling of distinction - I wouldn't award to the young German Kaiser the honour of being my coachman. There is one single case where I acknowledge my equal - I recognize it with profound gratitude. Frau Cosima Wagner is by far the noblest nature; and, so that I shouldn't say one word too few, I say that Richard Wagner was by far the most closely related man to me... The rest is silence... All the prevalent notions of degrees of kinship are physiological nonsense in an unsurpassable measure. The Pope still deals today in this nonsense. One is least related to one's parents: it would be the most extreme sign of vulgarity to be related to one's parents. Higher natures have their origins infinitely farther back, and with them much had to be assembled, saved and hoarded. The great individuals are the oldest: I don't understand it, but Julius Caesar could be my father - or Alexander, this Dionysos incarnate... At the very moment that I am writing this the post brings me a Dionysos-head.

4

I have never understood the art of arousing enmity towards myself - this too I owe to my incomparable father - even when it seemed to me very worthwhile to do so. However unchristian it may seem, I am not even inimical towards myself, one may turn my life this way and that, one will only rarely, at bottom only once, discover signs that anyone has borne ill will towards me - perhaps, however, somewhat too many signs of good will... My experiences even of those of whom everyone has bad experiences speak without exception in their favour; I tame every bear, I even make buffoons mind their manners. During the seven years in which I taught Greek to the top form of the Basel grammar school I never once had occasion to mete out a punishment; the laziest were industrious when they were with me. I am always up to dealing with any chance event; I have to be unprepared if I am to be master of myself. Let the instrument be what it will, let it be as out of tune as only the instrument 'man' can become out of tune - I should have to be ill not to succeed in getting out of it something listenable. And how often have I heard from the 'instruments' themselves that they had never heard themselves sound so well... Most beautifully perhaps from that Heinrich von Stein who died so unpardonably young and who, after cautiously obtaining permission, once appeared for three days at Sils-Maria, explaining to everyone that he had not come for the Engadin. This excellent man, who with the whole impetuous artlessness of a Prussian Junket had waded into the Wagnerian swamp (- and into the swamp of Dühring in addition!), was during those three days as if transported by a storm-wind of freedom, like one suddenly raised to his own heights and given wings. I kept telling him it was the result of the fine air up here, that everyone felt the same, that you could not stand 6,000 feet above Bayreuth and not notice it - but he would not believe me... If, this notwithstanding, many great and petty misdeeds have been committed against me, it was not 'will', least of all ill will that was the cause of it: I could complain, rather - I have just suggested as much - of the good will which has caused me no little mischief in my life. My experiences give me a right to a general mistrust of the so-called 'selfless' drives, of the whole 'love of one's neighbour' which is always ready with deeds and advice. It counts with me as weakness, as a special case of the incapacity to withstand stimuli - it is only among décadents that pity is called a virtue. My reproach against those who practise pity is that shame, reverence, a delicate feeling for distance easily eludes them, that pity instantly smells of mob and is so like bad manners as to be mistaken for them - that the hands of pity can under certain circumstances intrude downright destructively into a great destiny, into a solitariness where wounds are nursed, into a privilege for great guilt. I count the overcoming of pity among the noble virtues: I have, as 'Zarathustra's Temptation', invented a case in which a great cry of distress reaches him, in which pity like an ultimate sin seeks to attack him, to seduce him from allegiance to himself. To remain master here, here to keep the elevation of one's task clean of the many lower and more shortsighted drives which are active in socalled selfless actions, that is the test, the final test perhaps, which a Zarathustra has to pass - the actual proof of his strength...

5

In yet another point I am merely my father once more and as it were the continuation of his life after an all too early death. Like anyone who has never lived among his equals and to whom the concept 'requital' is as inaccessible as is for instance the concept 'equal rights', I forbid myself in cases where a little or very great act of folly has been perpetrated against me any countermeasure, any protective measure - also, as is reasonable, any defence, any 'justification'. My kind of requital consists in sending after the piece of stupidity as quickly as possible a piece of sagacity: in that way one may perhaps overtake it. To speak in a metaphor. I dispatch a pot of jam to get rid of a sour affair... Let anyone harm me in any way, I 'requite' it, you may be sure of that: as soon as I can I find an opportunity of expressing my thanks to the 'offender' (occasionally even for the offence) - or of asking him for something, which can be more courteous than giving something... It also seems to me that the rudest word, the rudest letter are more good-natured, more honest than silence. Those who keep silent almost always lack subtlety and politeness of the heart; silence is an objection, swallowing down necessarily produces a bad character - it even ruins the stomach. All those given to silence are dyspeptic. - One will see that I would not like to see rudeness undervalued, it is the most humane form of contradiction by far and, in the midst of modern tendermindedness, one of our foremost virtues. - If one is rich enough, it is even fortunate to be in the wrong. A god come to earth ought to do nothing whatever but wrong: to take upon oneself, not the punishment, but the guilt - only that would be godlike.

6

Freedom from ressentiment, enlightenment over ressentiment - who knows the extent to which I ultimately owe thanks to my protracted sickness for this too! The problem is not exactly simple: one has to have experienced it from a state of strength and a state of weakness. If anything whatever has to be admitted against being sick, being weak, it is that in these conditions the actual curative instinct, that is to say the defensive and offensive instinct in man becomes soft. One does not know how to get free of anything, one does not know how to have done with anything, one does not know how to thrust back - everything hurts. Men and things come importunately close, events strike too deep, the memory is a festering wound. Being sick is itself a kind of ressentiment. - Against this the invalid has only one great means of cure - I call it Russian fatalism, that fatalism without rebellion with which a Russian soldier for whom the campaign has become too much at last lies down in the snow. No longer to take anything at all, to receive anything, to take anything into oneself - no longer to react at all... The great rationality of this fatalism, which is not always the courage to die but can be life-preservative under conditions highly dangerous to life, is reduction of the metabolism, making it slow down, a kind of will to hibernation. A couple of steps further in this logic and one has the fakir who sleeps for weeks on end in a grave... Because one would use oneself up too quickly if one reacted at all, one no longer reacts: this is the logic. And nothing bums one up quicker than the affects of ressentiment. Vexation, morbid susceptibility, incapacity for revenge, the desire, the thirst for revenge, poison-brewing in any sense - for one who is exhausted this is certainly the most disadvantageous kind of reaction: it causes a rapid expenditure of nervous energy, a morbid accretion of excretions, for example of gall into the stomach. Ressentiment is the forbidden in itself for the invalid - his evil: unfortunately also his most natural inclination. - This was grasped by that profound physiologist Buddha. His 'religion', which one would do better to call a system of hygiene so as not to mix it up with such pitiable things as Christianity, makes its effect dependent on victory over ressentiment: to free the soul of that - first step to recovery. 'Not by enmity is enmity ended, by friendship is enmity ended': this stands at the beginning of Buddha's teaching - it is not morality that speaks thus, it is physiology that speaks thus. - Ressentiment, born of weakness, to no one more harmful than to the weak man himself - in the opposite case, where a rich nature is the presupposition, a superfluous feeling to stay master of which is almost the proof of richness. He who knows the seriousness with which my philosophy has taken up the struggle against the feelings of vengefulness and vindictiveness even into the theory of 'free will' - my struggle against Christianity is only a special instance of it - will understand why it is precisely here that I throw the light on my personal bearing, my sureness of instinct in practice. In periods of décadence I forbade them to myself as harmful; as soon as life was again sufficiently rich and proud for them I forbade them to myself as beneath me. That 'Russian fatalism' of which I spoke came forward in my case in the form of clinging tenaciously for years on end to almost intolerable situations, places, residences, company, once chance had placed me in them - it was better than changing them, than feeling them as capable of being changed - than rebelling against them... In those days I took it deadly amiss if I was disturbed in this fatalism, if I was forcibly awakened from it - and to do this was in fact every time a deadly dangerous thing. - To accept oneself as a fate, not to desire oneself 'different' - in such conditions this is great rationality itself.

7

War is another thing. I am by nature warlike. To attack is among my instincts. To be able to be an enemy, to be an enemy - that perhaps presupposes a strong nature, it is in any event a condition of every strong nature. It needs resistances, consequently it seeks resistances: the aggressive pathos belongs as necessarily to strength as the feeling of vengefulness and vindictiveness does to weakness. Woman, for example, is vengeful: that is conditioned by her weakness, just as is her susceptibility to others' distress. - The strength of one who attacks has in the opposition he needs a kind of gauge; every growth reveals itself in the seeking out of a powerful opponent - or problem: for a philosopher who is warlike also challenges problems to a duel. The undertaking is to master, not any resistances that happen to present themselves, but those against which one has to bring all one's strength, suppleness and mastery of weapons - to master equal opponents... Equality in face of the enemy - first presupposition of an honest duel. Where one despises one cannot wage war; where one commands, where one sees something as beneath one, one has not to wage war. - My practice in warfare can be reduced to four propositions. Firstly: I attack only causes that are victorious - under certain circumstances I wait until they are victorious. Secondly: I attack only causes against which I would find no allies, where I stand alone - where I compromise only myself... I have never taken a step in public which was not compromising: that is my criterion of right action. Thirdly: I never attack persons - I only employ the person as a strong magnifying glass with which one can make visible a general but furtive state of distress which is hard to get hold of. That was how I attacked David Strauss, more precisely the success with German 'culture' of a senile book - I thus caught that culture red-handed... That was how I attacked Wagner, more precisely the falseness, the hybrid instincts of our 'culture' which confuses the artful with the rich, the late with the great. Fourthly: I attack only things where any kind of personal difference is excluded, where there is no background of bad experience. On the contrary, to attack is with me a proof of good will, under certain circumstances of gratitude. I do honour, I confer distinction when I associate my name with a cause, a person: for or against - that is in this regard a matter of indifference to me. If I wage war on Christianity I have a right to do so, because I have never experienced anything disagreeable or frustrating from that direction - the most serious Christians have always been well disposed towards me. I myself, an opponent of Christianity de rigueur, am far from bearing a grudge against the individual for what is the fatality of millennia. -

8

May I venture to indicate one last trait of my nature which creates for me no little difficulty in my relations with others? I possess a perfectly uncanny sensitivity of the instinct for cleanliness, so that I perceive physiologically - smell - the proximity or - what am I saying? - the innermost parts, the 'entrails', of every soul... I have in this sensitivity psychological antennae with which I touch and take hold of every secret: all the concealed dirt at the bottom of many a nature, perhaps conditioned by bad blood but whitewashed by education, is known to me almost on first contact. If I have observed correctly, such natures unendurable to my sense of cleanliness for their part also sense the caution of my disgust: they do not thereby become any sweeter-smelling... As has always been customary with me - an extreme cleanliness in relation to me is a presupposition of my existence, I perish under unclean conditions - I swim and bathe and splash continually as it were in water, in any kind of perfectly transparent and glittering element. This makes traffic with people no small test of my patience; my humanity consists, not in feeling for and with man, but in enduring that I do feel for and with him... My humanity is a continual self-overcoming. - But I have need of solitude, that is to say recovery, return to myself, the breath of a free light playful air... My entire Zarathustra is a dithyramb on solitude or, if I have been understood, on cleanliness... Fortunately not on pure folly. - He who has eyes for colours will call it diamond. - Disgust at mankind, at the 'rabble', has always been my greatest danger... Do you want to hear the words in which Zarathustra speaks of redemption from disgust?

Yet what happened to me? How did I free myself from disgust? Who rejuvenated my eyes? How did I fly to the height where the rabble no longer sit at the well?

Did my disgust itself create wings and water-diving powers for me? Truly, I had to fly to the extremest height to find again the fountain of delight!

Oh, I have found it, my brothers! Here, in the extremest height, the fountain of delight gushes up for me! And here there is a life at which no rabble drinks with me!

You gush up almost too impetuously, fountain of delight! And in wanting to fill the cup, you often empty it again.

And I still have to learn to approach you more discreetly: my heart still flows towards you all too impetuously:-
my heart, upon which my summer burns, a short, hot, melancholy, over-joyful summer: how my summer-heart longs for your coolness!

Gone is the lingering affliction of my spring! Gone the snowflakes of my malice in June! Summer have I become entirely, and summer-noonday -

- a summer at the extremest height with cold fountains and blissful stillness: oh come, my friends, that the stillness may become more blissful yet!

For this is our height and our home: we live too nobly and boldly here for all unclean men and their thirsts.

Only cast your pure eyes into the well of my delight, friends! You will not dim its sparkle! It shall laugh back at you with its purity.

We build our nest in the tree Future: eagles shall bring food to us solitaries in their beaks!

Truly, food in which no unclean men could join us! They would think they were eating fire and bum their mouths.

Truly, we do not prepare a home here for unclean men! Their bodies and their spirits would call our happiness a cave of ice!

So let us live above them like strong winds, neighbours of the eagles, neighbours of the snow, neighbours of the sun: that is how strong winds live.

And like a wind will I one day blow among them and with my spirit take away the breath of their spirit: thus my future will have it.

Truly, Zarathustra is a strong wind to all flatlands; and he offers this advice to his enemies and to all that spews and spits: take care not to spit against the wind!...

Why I am So Clever

1

WHY do I know a few more things? Why am I so clever altogether? I have never reflected on questions that are none - I have not squandered myself. - I have, for example, no experience of actual religious difficulties. I am entirely at a loss to know to what extent I ought to have felt 'sinful'. I likewise lack a reliable criterion of a pang of conscience: from what one hears of it, a pang of conscience does not seem to me anything respectable... I should not like to leave an act in the lurch afterwards, I would as a matter of principle prefer to leave the evil outcome, the consequences, out of the question of values. When the outcome is evil one can easily lose the true eye for what one has done: a pang of conscience seems to me a kind of 'evil eye'. To honour to oneself something that went wrong all the more because it went wrong - that rather would accord with my morality. - 'God', 'immortality of the soul', 'redemption', 'the Beyond', all of them concepts to which I have given no attention and no time, not even as a child - perhaps I was never childish enough for it? - I have absolutely no knowledge of atheism as an outcome of reasoning, still less as an event: with me it is obvious by instinct. I am too inquisitive, too questionable, too high spirited to rest content with a crude answer. God is a crude answer, a piece of indelicacy against us thinkers - fundamentally even a crude prohibition to us: you shall not think!... I am interested in quite a different way in a question upon which the 'salvation of mankind' depends far more than it does upon any kind of quaint curiosity of the theologians: the question of nutriment. One can for convenience' sake formulate it thus: 'how to nourish yourself so as to attain your maximum of strength, of virtù in the Renaissance style, of moraline-free virtue?' - My experiences here are as bad as they possibly could be; I am astonished that I heard this question so late, that I learned 'reason' from these experiences so late. Only the perfect worthlessness of our German education - its 'idealism' - can to some extent explain to me why on precisely this point I was backward to the point of holiness. This 'education' which from the first teaches one to lose sight of realities so as to hunt after altogether problematic, so-called 'ideal' objectives, 'classical education' for example - as if it were not from the first an utterly fruitless undertaking to try to unite 'classical' and 'German' in one concept! It is, moreover, mirth-provoking - just think of a 'classically educated' Leipziger! - Until my very maturest years I did in fact eat badly - in the language of morals 'impersonally', 'selflessly', 'altruistically', for the salvation of cooks and other fellow Christians. With the aid of Leipzig cookery, for example, which accompanied my earliest study of Schopenhauer (1865), I very earnestly denied my 'will to live'. To ruin one's stomach so as to receive inadequate nutriment - the aforesaid cookery seems to me to solve this problem wonderfully well. But German cookery in general - what does it not have on its conscience! Soup before the meal (in Venetian cookery books of the sixteenth century still called alla tedesca); meat cooked to shreds, greasy and floury vegetables; the degeneration of puddings to paperweights! If one adds to this the downright bestial dinner-drinking habits of the ancient and by no means only the ancient Germans one will also understand the origin of the German spirit - disturbed intestines... The German spirit is an indigestion, it can have done with nothing. - But to the English diet too, which compared with the Germans, even with the French, is a kind of 'return to nature', that is to say to cannibalism, my own instinct is profoundly opposed; it seems to me to give the spirit heavy feet - the feet of Englishwomen... The best cookery is that of Piedmont. Alcoholic drinks are no good for me; a glass of wine or beer a day is quite enough to make life for me a 'Vale of Tears' - Munich is where my antipodes live. Granted I was a little late to grasp this - I experienced it really from childhood onwards. As a boy I believed wine-drinking to be, like tobacco-smoking, at first only a vanity of young men, later a habit. Perhaps the wine of Naumburg is in part to blame for this austere judgement. To believe that wine makes cheerful I would have to be a Christian, that is to say believe what is for precisely me an absurdity. Oddly enough, while I am put extremely out of sorts by small, much diluted doses of alcohol, I am almost turned into a sailor when it comes to strong doses. Even as a boy I showed how brave I was in this respect. To write a long Latin essay in a single night's sitting and then go on to make a fair copy of it, with the ambition in my pen to imitate in severity and concision my model Sallust, and to pour a quantity of grog of the heaviest calibre over my Latin, was even when I was a pupil of venerable Schulpforta in no way opposed to my physiology, nor perhaps to that of Sallust - however much it might have been to venerable Schulpforta... Later, towards the middle of life, I decided, to be sure, more and more strictly against any sort of 'spirituous' drink: an opponent of vegetarianism from experience, just like Richard Wagner, who converted me, I cannot advise all more spiritual natures too seriously to abstain from alcohol absolutely. Water suffices... I prefer places in which there is everywhere opportunity to drink from flowing fountains (Nice, Turin, Sils); a small glass runs after me like a dog. In vino veritas: it seems that here too I am again at odds with all the world over the concept 'truth' - with me the spirit moves over the water... A couple more signposts from my morality. A big meal is easier to digest than one too small. That the stomach comes into action as a whole, first precondition of a good digestion. One has to know the size of one's stomach. For the same reason those tedious meals should be avoided which I call interrupted sacrificial feasts, those at the table d'hôte. - No eating between meals, no coffee: coffee makes gloomy. Tea beneficial only in the morning. Little, but strong: tea very detrimental and sicklying o'er the whole day if it is the slightest bit too weak. Each has here his own degree, often between the narrowest and most delicate limits. In a very agaçant climate it is inadvisable to start with tea: one should start an hour earlier with a cup of thick oil-free cocoa. - Sit as little as possible; credit no thought not born in the open air and while moving freely about - in which the muscles too do not hold a festival. All prejudices come from the intestines. - Assiduity - I have said it once before - the actual sin against the holy spirit. -

2

Most closely related to the question of nutriment is the question of place and climate. No one is free to live everywhere; and he who has great tasks to fulfil which challenge his entire strength has indeed in this matter a very narrow range of choice. The influence of climate on the metabolism, its slowing down, its speeding up, extends so far that a blunder in regard to place and climate can not only estrange anyone from his task but withhold it from him altogether: he never catches sight of it. His animalic vigor never grows sufficiently great for him to attain to that freedom overflowing into the most spiritual domain where he knows: that I alone can do... A never so infinitesimal sluggishness of the intestines grown into a bad habit completely suffices to transform a genius into something mediocre, something 'German'; the German climate alone is enough to discourage strong and even heroic intestines. The tempo of the metabolism stands in an exact relationship to the mobility or lameness of the feet of the spirit; the 'spirit' itself is indeed only a species of this metabolism. Make a list of the places where there are and have been gifted men, where wit, refinement, malice are a part of happiness, where genius has almost necessarily made its home: they all possess an excellent dry air. Paris, Provence, Florence, Jerusalem, Athens - these names prove something: that genius is conditioned by dry air, clear sky - that is to say by rapid metabolism, by the possibility of again and again supplying oneself with great, even tremendous quantities of energy. I have in mind a case in which a spirit which might have become significant and free became instead narrow, withdrawn, a grumpy specialist, merely through a lack of instinctive subtlety in choice of climate. And I myself could in the end have become this case if sickness had not compelled me to reason, to reflect on reason in reality. Now, when from long practice I read climatic and meteorological effects off from myself as from a very delicate and reliable instrument and even on a short journey, from Turin to Milan for instance, verify on myself physiologically the change in degrees of humidity, I recall with horror the uncanny fact that my life up to the last ten years, the years when my life was in danger, was spent nowhere but in wrong places downright forbidden to me. Naumburg, Schulpforta, Thuringia in general, Leipzig, Basel, Venice - so many ill-fated places for my physiology. If I have no welcome memories at all of my whole childhood and youth, it would be folly to attribute this to so-called 'moral' causes - the undeniable lack of adequate company, for instance: for this lack exists today as it has always existed without preventing me from being brave and cheerful. Ignorance in physiologis - accursed 'idealism' - is the real fatality in my life, the superfluous and stupid in it, something out of which nothing good grows, for which there is no compensation, no counter-reckoning. It is as a consequence of this 'idealism' that I elucidate to myself all the blunders, all the great deviations of instinct and 'modesties' which led me away from the task of my life, that I became a philologist for example - why not at least a physician or something else that opens the eyes? In my time at Basel my entire spiritual diet, the division of the day included, was a perfectly senseless abuse of extraordinary powers without any kind of provision for covering this consumption, without even reflection on consumption and replacement. Any more subtle selfishness, any protection by a commanding instinct was lacking, it was an equating of oneself with everyone else, a piece of 'selflessness', a forgetting of one's distance - something I shall never forgive myself. When I was almost done for, because I was almost done for, I began to reflect on this fundamental irrationality of my life - 'idealism'. It was only sickness that brought me to reason. -

3

Selectivity in nutriment; selectivity in climate and place; - the third thing in which one may at no cost commit a blunder is selectivity in one's kind of recreation. Here too the degree to which a spirit is sui generis makes ever narrower the bounds of what is permitted, that is to say useful to him. In my case all reading is among my recreations: consequently among those things which free me from myself, which allow me to saunter among strange sciences and souls - which I no longer take seriously. It is precisely reading which helps me to recover from my seriousness. At times when I am deeply sunk in work you will see no books around me: I would guard against letting anyone speak or even think in my vicinity. And that is what reading would mean... Has it really been noticed that in that state of profound tension to which pregnancy condemns the spirit and fundamentally the entire organism, any chance event, any kind of stimulus from without has too vehement an effect, 'cuts' too deeply? One has to avoid the chance event, the stimulus from without, as much as possible; a kind of self-walling-up is among the instinctual sagacities of spiritual pregnancy. Shall I allow a strange thought to climb secretly over the wall? - And that is what reading would mean... The times of work and fruitfulness are followed by the time of recreation: come hither, you pleasant, you witty, you clever books! Will they be German books?... I have to reckon back half a year to catch myself with a book in my hand. But what was it? - An excellent study by Victor Brochard, les sceptiques Grecs, in which my Laertiana are also well employed. The Sceptics, the only honourable type among the two- and five-fold ambiguous philosophical crowd! ... Otherwise I take flight almost always to the same books, really a small number, those books which have proved themselves precisely to me. It does not perhaps lie in my nature to read much or many kinds of things: a reading room makes me ill. Neither does it lie in my nature to love much or many kinds of things. Caution, even hostility towards new books is rather part of my instinct than 'tolerance', 'largeur du coeur' and other forms of 'neighbour love'... It is really only a small number of older Frenchmen to whom I return again and again: I believe only in French culture and consider everything in Europe that calls itself 'culture' a misunderstanding, not to speak of German culture... The few instances of high culture I have encountered in Germany have all been of French origin, above all Frau Cosima Wagner, by far the first voice I have heard in questions of taste. - That I do not read Pascal but love him, as the most instructive of all sacrifices to Christianity, slowly murdered first physically then psychologically, the whole logic of this most horrible form of inhuman cruelty; that I have something of Montaigne's wantonness in my spirit, who knows? perhaps also in my body; that my artist's taste defends the names Molière, Corneille and Racine, not without wrath, against a disorderly genius such as Shakespeare: this does not ultimately exclude my finding the most recent Frenchmen also charming company. I cannot at all conceive in which century of history one could haul together such inquisitive and at the same time such delicate psychologists as one can in contemporary Paris: I name as a sample - for their number is by no means small, Messrs Paul Bourget, Pierre Loti, Gyp, Meilhac, Anatole France, Jules Lemaitre, or to pick out one of the stronger race, a genuine Latin to whom I am especially attached, Guy de Maupassant. Between ourselves, I prefer this generation even to their great teachers, who have all been ruined by German philosophy (M. Taine for example by Hegel, whom he has to thank for this misunderstanding of great human beings and ages). As far as Germany extends it ruins culture. It was only the war that 'redeemed' the spirit in France... Stendhal, one of the fairest accidents of my life - for whatever marks an epoch in my life has been brought to me by accident, never by a recommendation - is utterly invaluable with his anticipating psychologist's eye, with his grasp of facts which reminds one of the proximity of the greatest man of the factual (ex ungue Napoleonem -); finally not least as an honest atheist, a rare, almost undiscoverable species in France - with all deference to Prosper Mérimée... Perhaps I am even envious of Stendhal? He robbed me of the best atheist joke which precisely I could have made: 'God's only excuse is that he does not exist'... I myself have said somewhere: what has hitherto been the greatest objection to existence? God...

4

The highest conception of the lyric poet was given me by Heinrich Heine. I seek in vain in all the realms of millennia for an equally sweet and passionate music. He possesses that divine malice without which I cannot imagine perfection - I assess the value of people, of races according to how necessarily they are unable to separate the god from the satyr. - And how he employs German! It will one day be said that Heine and I have been by far the first artists of the German language - at an incalculable distance from everything which mere Germans have done with it. - I must be profoundly related to Byron's Manfred: I discovered all these abysses in myself - I was ripe for this work at thirteen. I have no words, only a look for those who dare to say the word Faust in the presence of Manfred. The Germans are incapable of any conception of greatness: proof Schumann. Expressly from wrath against this sugary Saxon, I composed a counter-overture to Manfred, of which Hans von Bülow said he had never seen the like on manuscript paper: it constituted a rape on Euterpe. - When I seek my highest formula for Shakespeare I find it always in that he conceived the type of Caesar. One cannot guess at things like this - one is it or one is not. The great poet creates only out of his own reality - to the point at which he is afterwards unable to endure his own work... When I have taken a glance at my Zarathustra I walk up and down my room for half an hour unable to master an unendurable spasm of sobbing. - I know of no more heartrending reading than Shakespeare: what must a man have suffered to need to be a buffoon to this extent! - Is Hamlet understood? It is not doubt, it is certainty which makes mad... But to feel in this way one must be profound, abyss, philosopher... We all fear truth... And, to confess it: I am instinctively certain that Lord Bacon is the originator, the self-tormentor of this uncanniest species of literature: what do I care about the pitiable charter of American shallow-pates and muddle-heads? But the power for the mightiest reality of vision is not only compatible with the mightiest power for action, for the monstrous in action, for crime - it even presupposes it... We do not know nearly enough about Lord Bacon, the first realist in every great sense of the word, to know what he did, what he wanted, what he experienced within himself... And the devil take it, my dear critics! Supposing I had baptized my Zarathustra with another name, for example with the name of Richard Wagner, the perspicuity of two millennia would not have sufficed to divine that the author of 'Human, All Too Human' is the visionary of Zarathustra...

5

Here where I am speaking of the recreations of my life, I need to say a word to express my gratitude for that which of all things in it has refreshed me by far the most profoundly and cordially. This was without any doubt my intimate association with Richard Wagner. I offer all my other human relationships cheap; but at no price would I relinquish from my life the Tribschen days, those days of mutual confidences, of cheerfulness, of sublime incidents - of profound moments... I do not know what others may have experienced with Wagner: over our sky no cloud ever passed. - And with that I return again to France - I cannot spare reasons, I can spare a mere curl of the lip for Wagnerians et hoc genus omne who believe they are doing honour to Wagner when they find him similar to themselves... Constituted as I am, a stranger in my deepest instincts to everything German, so that the mere presence of a German hinders my digestion, my first contact with Wagner was also the first time in my life I ever drew a deep breath: I felt, I reverenced him as a being from outside, as the opposite, the incarnate protest against all 'German virtues'. - We who were children in the swamp-air of the fifties are necessarily pessimists regarding the concept 'German'; we cannot be anything but revolutionaries - we shall acquiesce in no state of things in which the bigot is on top. It is a matter of complete indifference to me if today he plays in different colours, if he dresses in scarlet and dons the uniform of a hussar... Very well Wagner was a revolutionary - he fled from the Germans... As an artist one has no home in Europe except in Paris: the delicatesse in all five senses of art which Wagner's art presupposes, the fingers for nuances, the psychological morbidity, is to be found only in Paris. Nowhere else does there exist such a passion in questions of form, this seriousness in mise en scène - it is the Parisian seriousness par excellence. There is in Germany absolutely no conception of the tremendous ambition which dwells in the soul of a Parisian artist. The German is good-natured - Wagner was by no means good-natured... But I have already said sufficient as to where Wagner belongs, in whom he has his closest relatives: the French late romantics, that high-flying and yet exhilarating kind of artists such as Delacroix, such as Berlioz, with a fond of sickness, of incurability in their nature, sheer fanatics for expression, virtuosi through and through... Who was the first intelligent adherent of Wagner? Charles Baudelaire, the same as was the first to understand Delacroix, that typical décadent in whom an entire race of artists recognized themselves - he was perhaps also the last... What I have never forgiven Wagner? That he condescended to the Germans - that he became reichsdeutsch... As far as Germany extends it ruins culture. -

6

All in all I could not have endured my youth without Wagnerian music. For I was condemned to Germans. If one wants to get free from an unendurable pressure one needs hashish. Very well, I needed Wagner. Wagner is the counter-poison to everything German par excellence - still poison, I do not dispute it... From the moment there was a piano score of Tristan - my compliments, Herr von Bülow! - I was a Wagnerian. The earliest works of Wagner I saw as beneath me - still too common, too 'German' ... But I still today seek a work of a dangerous fascination, of a sweet and shuddery infinity equal to that of Tristan - I seek in all the arts in vain. All the strangenesses of Leonardo da Vinci lose their magic at the first note of Tristan. This work is altogether Wagner's non plus ultra; he recuperated from it with the Meistersinger and the Ring. To become healthier - that is retrogression in the case of a nature such as Wagner... I take it for a piece of good fortune of the first rank to have lived at the right time, and to have lived precisely among Germans, so as to be ripe for this work: my psychologist's inquisitiveness goes that far. The world is poor for him who has never been sick enough for this 'voluptuousness of hell': to employ a mystic's formula is permissible, almost obligatory, here. I think I know better than anyone what tremendous things Wagner was capable of, the fifty worlds of strange delights to which no one but he had wings; and as I am strong enough to turn even the most questionable and most perilous things to my own advantage and thus to become stronger, I call Wagner the great benefactor of my life. That in which we are related, that we have suffered more profoundly, from one another also, than men of this century are capable of suffering, will eternally join our names together again and again; and as surely as Wagner is among Germans merely a misunderstanding, just as surely am I and always will be. - Two centuries of psychological and artistic discipline first, my Herr Germans!... But one cannot catch up that amount. -

7

I shall say another word for the most select ears: what I really want from music. That it is cheerful and profound, like an afternoon in October. That it is individual, wanton, tender, a little sweet woman of lowness and charm... I shall never admit that a German could know what music is. What one calls German musicians, the greatest above all, are foreigners, Slavs, Croats, Italians, Netherlanders - or Jews: otherwise Germans of the strong race, extinct Germans, like Heinrich Schütz, Bach and Handel. I myself am still sufficient of a Pole to exchange the rest of music for Chopin; for three reasons I exclude Wagner's Siegfried Idyll, perhaps also a few things by Liszt, who excels all other musicians in the nobility of his orchestral tone; finally all that has grown up beyond the Alps - this side... I would not know how to get on without Rossini, even less without my south in music, the music of my Venetian maestro Pietro Gasti. And when I say beyond the Alps I am really saying only Venice. When I seek another word for music I never find any other word than Venice. I do not know how to distinguish between tears and music - I do not know how to think of happiness, of the south, without a shudder of faintheartedness.

Lately I stood at the bridge
in the brown night.

From afar there came a song:

a golden drop, it swelled
across the trembling surface.

Gondolas, lights, music -
drunken it swam out into the gloom...

My soul, a stringed instrument,
touched by invisible hands
sang to itself in reply a gondola song,
and trembled with gaudy happiness.

- Was anyone listening?

8

In all this - in selection of nutriment, of place and climate, of recreation - there commands an instinct of self-preservation which manifests itself most unambiguously as an instinct for self-defence. Not to see many things, not to hear them, not to let them approach one - first piece of ingenuity, first proof that one is no accident but a necessity. The customary word for this self-defensive instinct is taste. Its imperative commands, not only to say No when Yes would be a piece of 'selflessness', but also to say No as little as possible. To separate oneself, to depart from that to which No would be required again and again. The rationale is that defensive expenditures, be they never so small, become a rule, a habit, lead to an extraordinary and perfectly superfluous impoverishment. Our largest expenditures are our most frequent small ones. Warding off, not letting come close, is an expenditure - one should not deceive oneself over this - a strength squandered on negative objectives. One can merely through the constant need to ward off become too weak any longer to defend oneself. - Suppose I were to step out of my house and discover, instead of calm and aristocratic Turin, the German provincial town: my instinct would have to blockade itself so as to push back all that pressed upon it from this flat and cowardly world. Or suppose I discovered the German metropolis, that builded vice where nothing grows, where every kind of thing, good and bad, is dragged in. Would I not in face of it have to become a hedgehog? - But to have spikes is an extravagance, a double luxury even if one is free to have no spikes but open hands...

Another form of sagacity and self-defence consists in reacting as seldom as possible and withdrawing from situations and relationships in which one would be condemned as it were to suspend one's 'freedom', one's initiative, and become a mere reagent. I take as a parable traffic with books. The scholar, who really does nothing but 'trundle' books - the philologist at a modest assessment about 200 a day - finally loses altogether the ability to think for himself. If he does not trundle he does not think. He replies to a stimulus (- a thought he has read) when he thinks - finally he does nothing but react. The scholar expends his entire strength in affirmation and denial, in criticizing what has already been thought - he himself no longer thinks... The instinct for self-defence has in his case become soft; otherwise he would defend himself against books. The scholar - a décadent. - This I have seen with my own eyes: natures gifted, rich and free already in their thirties 'read to ruins', mere matches that have to be struck if they are to ignite - emit 'thoughts'. - Early in the morning at the break of day, in all the freshness and dawn of one's strength, to read a book - I call that vicious! -

9

At this point I can no longer avoid actually answering the question how one becomes what one is. And with that I touch on the masterpiece in the art of self-preservation - of selfishness... For assuming that the task, the vocation, the destiny of the task exceeds the average measure by a significant degree, there wouldbe no greater danger than to catch sight of oneself with this task. That one becomes what one is presupposes that one does not have the remotest idea what one is. From this point of view even the blunders of life - the temporary sidepaths and wrong turnings, the delays, the 'modesties', the seriousness squandered on tasks which lie outside the task - have their own meaning and value. They are an expression of a great sagacity, even the supreme sagacity: where nosce to ipsum would be the recipe for destruction, self-forgetfulness, self-misunderstanding, self-diminution, -narrowing, -mediocratizing becomes reason itself. Expressed morally: love of one's neighbour, living for others and other things can be the defensive measure for the preservation of the sternest selfishness. This is the exceptional case in which I, contrary to my rule and conviction, take the side of the 'selfless' drives: here they work in the service of selfishness, self-cultivation. - The entire surface of consciousness - consciousness is a surface - has to be kept clear of any of the great imperatives. Even the grand words, the grand attitudes must be guarded against! All of them represent a danger that the instinct will 'understand itself' too early - -. In the meantime the organizing 'idea' destined to rule grows and grows in the depths - it begins to command, it slowly leads back from sidepaths and wrong turnings, it prepares individual qualities and abilities which will one day prove themselves indispensable as means to achieving the whole - it constructs the ancillary capacities one after the other before it gives any hint of the dominating task, of the 'goal', 'objective', 'meaning'. - Regarded from this side my life is simply wonderful. For the task of a revaluation of values more capacities perhaps were required than have dwelt together in one individual, above all antithetical capacities which however are not allowed to disturb or destroy one another. Order of rank among capacities; distance; the art of dividing without making inimical; mixing up nothing, 'reconciling' nothing; a tremendous multiplicity which is none the less the opposite of chaos - this has been the precondition, the protracted secret labour and artistic working of my instinct. The magnitude of its higher protection was shown in the fact I have at no time had the remotest idea what was growing within me - that all my abilities one day leapt forth suddenly ripe, in their final perfection. I cannot remember ever having taken any trouble - no trace of struggle can be discovered in my life, I am the opposite of an heroic nature. To 'want' something, to 'strive' after something, to have a 'goal', a 'wish' in view - I know none of this from experience. Even at this moment I look out upon my future - a distant future! - as upon a smooth sea: it is ruffled by no desire. I do not want in the slightest that anything should become other than it is; I do not want myself to become other than I am... But that is how I have always lived. I have harboured no desire. Someone who after his forty-fourth year can say he has never striven after honours, after women, after money! - Not that I could not have had them... Thus, for example, I one day became a university professor - I had never had the remotest thought of such a thing, for I was barely twenty-four years old.

10

- I shall be asked why I have really narrated all these little things which according to the traditional judgement are matters of indifference: it will be said that in doing so I harm myself all the more if I am destined to fulfil great tasks. Answer: these little things - nutriment, place, climate, recreation, the whole casuistry of selfishness - are beyond all conception of greater importance than anything that has been considered of importance hitherto. It is precisely here that one has to begin to learn anew. Those things which mankind has hitherto pondered seriously are not even realities, merely imaginings, more strictly speaking lies from the bad instincts of sick, in the profoundest sense injurious natures - all the concepts 'God', 'soul', 'virtue', 'sin', 'the Beyond', 'truth', 'eternal life'... But the greatness of human nature, its 'divinity', has been sought in them... All questions of politics, the ordering of society, education have been falsified down to their foundations because the most injurious men have been taken for great men - because contempt has been taught for the 'little' things, which is to say for the fundamental affairs of life... Now, when I compare myself with the men who have hitherto been honoured as pre-eminent men the distinction is palpable. I do not count these supposed 'preeminent men' as belonging to mankind at all - to me they are the refuse of mankind, abortive offspring of sickness and vengeful instincts: they are nothing but pernicious, fundamentally incurable monsters who take revenge on life... I want to be the antithesis of this: it is my privilege to possess the highest subtlety for all the signs of healthy instincts. Every morbid trait is lacking in me; even in periods of severe illness I did not become morbid; a trait of fanaticism will be sought in vain in my nature. At no moment of my life can I be shown to have adopted any kind of arrogant or pathetic posture. The pathos of attitudes does not belong to greatness; whoever needs attitudes at all is false... Beware of all picturesque men! - Life has been easy for me, easiest when it demanded of me the most difficult things. Anyone who saw me during the seventy days of this autumn when I was uninterruptedly creating nothing but things of the first rank which no man will be able to do again or has done before, bearing a responsibility for all the coming millennia, will have noticed no trace of tension in me, but rather an overflowing freshness and cheerfulness. I never ate with greater relish, I never slept better. - I know of no other way of dealing with great tasks than that of play: this is, as a sign of greatness, an essential precondition. The slightest constraint, the gloomy mien, any kind of harsh note in the throat are all objections to a man, how much more to his work!... One must have no nerves... To suffer from solitude is likewise an objection - I have always suffered only from the 'multitude'... At an absurdly early age, at the age of seven, I already knew that no human word would ever reach me: has anyone ever seen me sad on that account? - Still today I treat everyone with the same geniality, I am even full of consideration for the basest people: in all this there is not a grain of arrogance, of secret contempt. He whom I despise divines that I despise him: through my mere existence I enrage everything that has bad blood in its veins... My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be other than it is, not in the future, not in the past, not in all eternity. Not merely to endure that which happens of necessity, still less to dissemble it - all idealism is untruthfulness in the face of necessity - but to love it...

Why I Write Such Good Books

1

I AM one thing, my writings are another. - Here, before I speak of these writings themselves, I shall touch on the question of their being understood or not understood. I shall do so as perfunctorily as is fitting: for the time for this question has certainly not yet come. My time has not yet come, some are born posthumously. - One day or other institutions will be needed in which people live and teach as I understand living and teaching: perhaps even chairs for the interpretation of Zarathustra will be established. But it would be a complete contradiction of myself if I expected ears and hands for my truths already today: that I am not heard today, that no one today knows how to take from me, is not only comprehensible; it even seems to me right. I do not want to be taken for what I am not - and that requires that I do not take myself for what I am not. To say it again, little of 'ill will' can be shown in my life; neither would I be able to speak of barely a single case of 'literary ill will'. On the other hand all too much of pure folly!... It seems to me that to take a book of mine into his hands is one of the rarest distinctions anyone can confer upon himself - I even assume he removes his shoes when he does so - not to speak of boots... When Doctor Heinrich von Stein once honestly complained that he understood not one word of my Zarathustra, I told him that was quite in order: to have understood, that is to say experienced, six sentences of that book would raise one to a higher level of mortals than 'modern' man could attain to. How could I, with this feeling of distance, even want the 'modern men' I know - to read me! - My triumph is precisely the opposite of Schopenhauer's - I say 'non legor, non legar'. - Not that I should like to underestimate the pleasure which the innocence in the rejection of my writings has given me. This very summer just gone, at a time when, with my own weighty, too heavily weighty literature, I was perhaps throwing all the rest of literature off its balance, a professor of Berlin University kindly gave me to understand that I ought really to avail myself of a different form: no one read stuff like mine. - In the end it was not Germany but Switzerland which offered me the two extreme cases. An essay of Dr V. Widmann in the Bund on 'Beyond Good and Evil' under the title 'Nietzsche's Dangerous Book', and a general report on my books as a whole on the part of Herr Karl Spitteler, also in the Bund, constitute a maximum in my life - of what I take care not to say... The latter, for example, dealt with my Zarathustra as an advanced exercise in style, with the request that I might later try to provide some content; Dr Widmann expressed his respect for the courage with which I strive to abolish all decent feelings. - Through a little trick of chance every sentence here was, with a consistency I had to admire, a truth stood on its head: remarkably enough, all one had to do was to 'revalue all values' in order to hit the nail on the head with regard to me - instead of hitting my head with a nail... All the more reason for me to attempt an explanation. - Ultimately, no one can extract from things, books included, more than he already knows. What one has no access to through experience one has no ear for. Now let us imagine an extreme case: that a book speaks of nothing but events which lie outside the possibility of general or even of rare experience - that it is the first language for a new range of experiences. In this case simply nothing will be heard, with the acoustical illusion that where nothing is heard there is nothing... This is in fact my average experience and, if you like, the originality of my experience. Whoever believed he had understood something of me had dressed up something out of me after his own image - not uncommonly an antithesis of me, for instance an 'idealist'; whoever had understood nothing of me denied that I came into consideration at all. - The word 'superman' to designate a type that has turned out supremely well, in antithesis to 'modern' men, to 'good' men, to Christians and other nihilists - a word which, in the mouth of a Zarathustra, the destroyer of morality, becomes a very thoughtful word - has almost everywhere been understood with perfect innocence in the sense of those values whose antithesis makes its appearance in the figure of Zarathustra: that is to say as an 'idealistic' type of higher species of man, half 'saint', half 'genius'... Other learned cattle caused me on its account to be suspected of Darwinism; even the 'hero cult' of that great unconscious and involuntary counterfeiter Carlyle which I rejected so maliciously has been recognized in it. He into whose ear I whispered he ought to look around rather for a Cesare Borgia than for a Parsifal did not believe his ears. - That I am utterly incurious about discussions of my books, especially by newspapers, will have to be forgiven me. My friends, my publishers know this and do not speak to me about such things. In a particular instance I once had a sight of all the sins that had been committed against a single book - it was 'Beyond Good and Evil'; I could tell a pretty story about that. Would you believe it that the 'Nationalzeitung' - a Prussian newspaper, for my foreign readers - I myself read, if I may say so, only the Journal des Débats - could in all seriousness understand the book as a 'sign of the times', as the real genuine Junker philosophy for which the 'Kreuzzeitung' merely lacked the courage?...

2

This was said for Germans: for I have readers everywhere else - nothing but choice intelligences of proved character brought up in high positions and duties; I have even real geniuses among my readers. In Vienna, in St Petersburg, in Stockholm, in Copenhagen, in Paris and New York - I have been discovered everywhere: I have not been in Europe's flatland Germany... And to confess it, I rejoice even more over my non-readers, such as have never heard either my name or the word philosophy; but wherever I go, here in Turin for example, every face grows more cheerful and benevolent at the sight of me. What has flattered me the most is that old marketwomen take great pains to select together for me the sweetest of their grapes. That is how far one must be a philosopher... It is not in vain that the Poles are called the French among the Slavs. A charming Russian lady would not mistake for a moment where I belong. I cannot succeed in becoming solemn, the most I can achieve is embarrassment... To think German, to feel German - I can do everything, but that is beyond my powers... My old teacher Ritschl went so far as to maintain that I conceived even my philological essays like a Parisian romancier - absurdly exciting. In Paris itself there is astonishment over 'toutes mes audaces et finesses' - the expression is Monsieur Taine's -; I fear that with me there is up to the highest forms of the dithyramb an admixture of that salt which never gets soggy -'German' - esprit... I cannot do otherwise, so help me God! Amen. - We all know, some even know from experience, what a longears is. Very well, I dare to assert that I possess the smallest ears. This is of no little interest to women - it seems to me they feel themselves better understood by me?... I am the anti-ass par excellence and therewith a world-historical monster - I am, in Greek and not only in Greek, the Anti-Christ...

3

I know my privileges as a writer to some extent; in individual cases it has been put to me how greatly habituation to my writings 'ruins' taste. One can simply no longer endure other books, philosophical ones least of all. To enter this noble and delicate world is an incomparable distinction - to do so one absolutely must not be a German; it is in the end a distinction one has to have earned. But he who is related to me through loftiness of will experiences when he reads me real ecstasies of learning: for I come from heights no bird has ever soared to, I know abysses into which no foot has ever yet strayed. I have been told it is impossible to put a book of mine down - I even disturb the night's rest... There is altogether no prouder and at the same time more exquisite kind of book than my books - they attain here and there the highest thing that can be attained on earth, cynicism; one needs the most delicate fingers as well as the bravest fists if one is to master them. Any infirmity of soul excludes one from them once and for all, any dyspepsia, even, does so: one must have no nerves, one must have a joyful belly. Not only does the poverty, the hole-and-corner air of a soul exclude it from them - cowardice, uncleanliness, secret revengefulness in the entrails does so far more: a word from me drives all bad instincts into the face. I have among my acquaintances several experimental animals on whom I bring home to myself the various, very instructively various reactions to my writings. Those who want to have nothing to do with their contents, my so-called friends for example, become 'impersonal': they congratulate me on having 'done it' again - progress is apparent, too, in a greater cheerfulness of tone... The completely vicious 'spirits', the 'beautiful souls', the thoroughly and utterly mendacious have no idea at all what to do with these books - consequently they see the same as beneath them, the beautiful consistency of all 'beautiful souls'. The horned cattle among my acquaintances, mere Germans if I may say so, give me to understand they are not always of my opinion, though they are sometimes... I have heard this said even of Zarathustra... Any 'feminism' in a person, or in a man, likewise closes the gates on me: one will never be able to enter this labyrinth of daring knowledge. One must never have spared oneself, harshness must be among one's habits, if one is to be happy and cheerful among nothing but hard truths. When I picture a perfect reader, I always picture a monster of courage and curiosity, also something supple, cunning, cautious, a born adventurer and discoverer. Finally: I would not know how to say better to whom at bottom alone I speak than Zarathustra has said it: to whom alone does he want to narrate his riddle?

To you, the bold venturers and adventurers, and whoever has embarked with cunning sails upon dreadful seas,
to you who are intoxicated with riddles, who take pleasure in twilight, whose soul is lured with flutes to every treacherous abyss -
for you do not desire to feel for a rope with cowardly hand; and where you can guess you hate to calculate...

4

I shall at the same time also say a general word on my art of style. To communicate a state, an inner tension of pathos through signs, including the tempo of these signs - that is the meaning of every style; and considering that the multiplicity of inner states is in my case extraordinary, there exists in my case the possibility of many styles - altogether the most manifold art of style any man has ever had at his disposal. Every style is good which actually communicates an inner state, which makes no mistake as to the signs, the tempo of the signs, the gestures - all rules of phrasing are art of gesture. My instinct is here infallible. - Good style in itself - a piece of pure folly, mere 'idealism', on a par with the 'beautiful in itself ', the 'good in itself', the 'thing in itself'... Always presupposing there are ears - that there are those capable and worthy of a similar pathos, that those are not lacking to whom one ought to communicate oneself. - My Zarathustra for example is at present still looking for them - alas! he will have to look for a long time yet! One has to be worthy of assaying him... And until then there will be no one who comprehends the art which has here been squandered: no one has ever had more of the new, the unheard-of, the really new-created in artistic means to squander. That such a thing was possible in the German language remained to be proved: I myself would previously have most hotly disputed it. Before me one did not know what can be done with the German language - what can be done with language as such. The art of grand rhythm, the grand style of phrasing, as the expression of a tremendous rise and fall of sublime, of superhuman passion, was first discovered by me; with a dithyramb such as the last of the third Zarathustra, entitled 'The Seven Seals', I flew a thousand miles beyond that which has hitherto been called poesy.

5

That out of my writings there speaks a psychologist who has not his equal, that is perhaps the first thing a good reader will notice - a reader such as I deserve, who reads me as good old philologists read their Horace. The propositions over which everybody is in fundamental agreement - not to speak of everybody's philosophers, the moralists and other hollow-heads and cabbage-heads - appear with me as naive blunders: for example that belief that 'unegoistic' and 'egoistic' are antitheses, while the ego itself is merely a 'higher swindle', an 'ideal'. There are neither egoistic nor unegoistic actions: both concepts are psychologically nonsense. Or the proposition 'man strives after happiness'... Or the proposition 'happiness is the reward of virtue'... Or the proposition 'pleasure and displeasure are opposites'... The Circe of mankind, morality, has falsified all psychologica to its very foundations - has moralized it - to the point of the frightful absurdity that love is supposed to be something 'unegoistic'... One has to be set firmly upon oneself, one has to stand bravely upon one's own two legs, otherwise one cannot love at all. In the long run the little women know that all too well: they play the deuce with selfless, with merely objective men... Dare I venture in addition to suggest that I know these little women? It is part of my Dionysian endowment. Who knows? perhaps I am the first psychologist of the eternal-womanly. They all love me - an old story: excepting the abortive women, the 'emancipated' who lack the stuff for children. - Happily I am not prepared to be torn to pieces: the complete woman tears to pieces when she loves... I know these amiable maenads... Ah, what a dangerous, creeping, subterranean little beast of prey it is! And so pleasant with it!... A little woman chasing after her revenge would over-run fate itself. - The woman is unspeakably more wicked than the man, also cleverer; goodness in a woman is already a form of degeneration ... At the bottom of all so-called 'beautiful souls' there lies a physiological disadvantage - I shall not say all I could or I should become medicynical. The struggle for equal rights is even a symptom of sickness: every physician knows that. - The more a woman is a woman the more she defends herself tooth and nail against rights in general: for the state of nature, the eternal war between the sexes puts her in a superior position by far. - Have there been ears for my definition of love? it is the only one worthy of a philosopher. Love - in its methods war, in its foundation the mortal hatred of the sexes. Has my answer been heard to the question how one cures - 'redeems' - a woman? One makes a child for her. The woman has need of children, the man is always only the means: thus spoke Zarathustra. - 'Emancipation of woman' - is the instinctive hatred of the woman who has turned out ill, that is to say is incapable of bearing, for her who has turned out well - the struggle against 'man' is always only means, subterfuge, tactic. When they elevate themselves as 'woman in herself', as 'higher woman', as 'idealist' woman, they want to lower the general level of rank of woman; no surer means for achieving that than grammar school education, trousers and the political rights of voting cattle. At bottom the emancipated are the anarchists in the world of the 'eternal-womanly', the under-privileged whose deepest instinct is revenge... An entire species of the most malevolent 'idealism' - which, by the way, also occurs in men, for example in the case of Henrik Ibsen, that typical old maid - has the objective of poisoning the good conscience, the naturalness in sexual love... And so as to leave no doubt as to my opinion in this matter, which is as honest as it is strict, I would like to impart one more clause of my moral code against vice: with the word vice I combat every sort of anti-nature or, if one likes beautiful words, idealism. The clause reads: 'The preaching of chastity is a public incitement to anti-nature. Every expression of contempt for the sexual life, every befouling of it through the concept "impure", is the crime against life - is the intrinsic sin against the holy spirit of life.'

6

To give an idea of me as a psychologist I take a curious piece of psychology which occurs in 'Beyond Good and Evil' - I forbid, by the way, any conjecture as to whom I am describing in this passage: 'The genius of the heart as it is possessed by that great hidden one, the tempter god and born pied piper of consciences whose voice knows how to descend into the underworld of every soul, who says no word and gives no glance in which there lies no touch of enticement, to whose mastery belongs knowing how to seem - not what he is but what to those who follow him is one constraint more to press ever closer to him, to follow him ever more inwardly and thoroughly... The genius of the heart who makes everything loud and self-satisfied fall silent and teaches it to listen, who smooths rough souls and gives them a new desire to savour - the desire to lie still as a mirror, that the deep sky may mirror itself in them... The genius of the heart who teaches the stupid and hasty hand to hesitate and grasp more delicately; who divines the hidden and forgotten treasure, the drop of goodness and sweet spirituality under thick and opaque ice, and is a divining-rod for every grain of gold which has lain long in the prison of much mud and sand... The genius of the heart from whose touch everyone goes away richer, not favoured and surprised, not as if blessed and oppressed with the goods of others, but richer in himself, newer to himself than before, broken open, blown upon and sounded out by a thawing wind, more uncertain perhaps, more delicate, more fragile, more broken, but full of hopes that as yet have no names, full of new will and current, full of new ill will and counter current...'

Why I am a Destiny

1

I KNOW my fate. One day there will be associated with my name the recollection of something frightful - of a crisis like no other before on earth, of the profoundest collision of conscience, of a decision evoked against everything that until then had been believed in, demanded, sanctified. I am not a man, I am dynamite. - And with all that there is nothing in me of a founder of a religion - religions are affairs of the rabble, I have need of washing my hands after contact with religious people... I do not want 'believers', I think I am too malicious to believe in myself, I never speak to masses... I have a terrible fear I shall one day be pronounced holy: one will guess why I bring out this book beforehand; it is intended to prevent people from making mischief with me... I do not want to be a saint, rather even a buffoon... Perhaps I am a buffoon... And none the less, or rather not none the less - for there has hitherto been nothing more mendacious than saints - the truth speaks out of me. - But my truth is dreadful: for hitherto the lie has been called truth. - Revaluation of all values: this is my formula for an act of supreme coming-to-oneself on the part of mankind which in me has become flesh and genius. It is my fate to have to be the first decent human being, to know myself in opposition to the men-daciousness of millennia... I was the first to discover the truth, in that I was the first to sense - smell - the lie as lie... My genius is in my nostrils... I contradict as has never been contradicted and am none the less the opposite of a negative spirit. I am a bringer of good tidings such as there has never been, I know tasks from such a height that any conception of them has hitherto been lacking; only after me is it possible to hope again. With all that I am necessarily a man of fatality. For when truth steps into battle with the lie of millennia we shall have convulsions, an earthquake spasm, a transposition of valley and mountain such as has never been dreamed of. The concept politics has then become completely absorbed into a war of spirits; all the power-structures of the old society have been blown into the air - they one and all reposed on the lie: there will be wars such as there have never yet been on earth. Only after me will there be grand politics on earth.

2

Does one want a formula for a destiny that has become man? It stands in my Zarathustra.

- and he who wants to be a creator in good and evil has first to be a destroyer and break values.

Thus the greatest evil belongs with the greatest good: this, however, is the creative good.

I am by far the most terrible human being there has ever been; this does not mean I shall not be the most beneficent. I know joy in destruction to a degree corresponding to my strength for destruction - in both I obey my dionysian nature, which does not know how to separate No-doing from Yes-saying. I am the first immoralist: I am therewith the destroyer par excellence. -

3

I have not been asked, as I should have been asked, what the name Zarathustra means in precisely my mouth, in the mouth of the first immoralist: for what constitutes the tremendous uniqueness of that Persian in history is precisely the opposite of this. Zarathustra was the first to see in the struggle between good and evil the actual wheel in the working of things: the translation of morality into the realm of metaphysics, as force, cause, end-in-itself, is his work. But this question is itself at bottom its own answer. Zarathustra created this most fateful of errors, morality: consequently he must also be the first to recognize it. Not only has he had longer and greater experience here than any other thinker - the whole of history is indeed the experimental refutation of the proposition of a so-called 'moral world-order' -: what is more important is that Zarathustra is more truthful than any other thinker. His teaching, and his alone, upholds truthfulness as the supreme virtue - that is to say, the opposite of the cowardice of the 'idealist', who takes flight in face of reality; Zarathustra has more courage in him than all other thinkers put together. To tell the truth and to shoot well with arrows: that is Persian virtue. - Have I been understood? The self-overcoming of morality through truthfulness, the self-overcoming of the moralist into his opposite - into me - that is what the name Zarathustra means in my mouth.

4

At bottom my expression immoralist involves two denials. I deny first a type of man who has hitherto counted as the highest, the good, the benevolent, beneficent; I deny secondly a kind of morality which has come to be accepted and to dominate as morality in itself - décadence morality, in more palpable terms Christian morality. The second contradiction might be seen as the decisive one, since the over-valuation of goodness and benevolence by and large already counts with me as a consequence of décadence, as a symptom of weakness, as incompatible with an ascending and affirmative life: denial and destruction is a condition of affirmation. - I deal first of all with the psychology of the good man. In order to assess what a type of man is worth one has to compute how much his preservation costs - one has to know the conditions of his existence. The condition for the existence of the good is the lie -: expressed differently, the desire not to see at any price what is the fundamental constitution of reality, that is to say not such as to call forth benevolent instincts at all times, even less such as to permit at all times an interference by short-sighted good-natured hands. To regard states of distress in general as an objection, as something that must be abolished, is the niaiserie par excellence, in a general sense a real disaster in its consequences, a fatality of stupidity - almost as stupid as would be the will to abolish bad weather - perhaps from pity to the poor... In the general economy of the whole the fearfulnesses of reality (in the affects, in the desires, in the will to power) are to an incalculable degree more necessary than any form of petty happiness, so-called 'goodness'; since the latter is conditioned by falsity of instinct one must even be cautious about granting it a place at all. I shall have a grand occasion of demonstrating the measurelessly uncanny consequences for the whole of history of optimism, that offspring of the homines optimi. Zarathustra, the first to grasp that optimism is just as décadent as pessimism and perhaps more harmful, says: good men never tell the truth. The good taught you false shores and false securities: you were born and kept in the lies of the good. Everything has been distorted and twisted down to its very bottom through the good. Fortunately the world has not been constructed for the satisfaction of instincts such as would permit merely good-natured herd animals to find their narrow happiness in it; to demand that everything should become 'good man', herd animal, blueeyed, benevolent, 'beautiful soul' - or, as Mr Herbert Spencer wants, altruistic, would mean to deprive existence of its great character, would mean to castrate mankind and to reduce it to a paltry Chinadom. - And this has been attempted!... Precisely this has been called morality... In this sense Zarathustra calls the good now 'the last men', now the 'beginning of the end'; above all he feels them to be the most harmful species of man, because they preserve their existence as much at the expense of truth as at the expense of the future.

The good - cannot create, they are always the beginning of the end -

- they crucify him who writes new values on new law-tables, they sacrifice the future to themselves, they crucify the whole human future!

The good - have always been the beginning of the end...

And whatever harm the world-calumniators may do, the harm the good do is the most harmful harm.

5

Zarathustra, the first psychologist of the good, is - consequently - a friend of the wicked. When a décadence-species of man has risen to the rank of the highest species of man, this can happen only at the expense of its antithetical species, the species of man strong and certain of life. When the herd-animal is resplendent in the glow of the highest virtue, the exceptional man must be devalued to the wicked man. When mendaciousness at any price appropriates the word 'truth' for its perspective, what is actually veracious must be discovered bearing the worst names. Zarathustra here leaves no doubt: he says that it was knowledge of precisely the good, the 'best', which made him feel horror at man in general; it was out of this repugnance that the wings grew which 'carried him to distant futures' - he does not dissemble that it is precisely in relation to the good that his type of man, a relatively superhuman type, is superhuman, that the good and just would call his superman a devil...

You highest men my eyes have encountered! This is my doubt of you and my secret laughter: I think you would call my superman - a devil!

Your souls are so unfamiliar with what is great that the superman would be fearful to you in his goodness...

It is at this point and nowhere else that one must make a start if one is to understand what Zarathustra's intentions are: the species of man he delineates delineates reality as it is: he is strong enough for it - he is not estranged from or entranced by it, he is reality itself, he still has all that is fearful and questionable in reality in him, only thus can man possess greatness...

6

- But there is also another sense in which I have chosen for myself the word immoralist as a mark of distinction and badge of honour; I am proud to possess this word which sets me off against the whole of humanity. No one has yet felt Christian morality as beneath him: that requires a height, a farsightedness, a hitherto altogether unheard-of psychological profundity and abysmalness. Christian morality has hitherto been the Circe of all thinkers - they stood in its service. - Who before me has entered the caverns out of which the poisonous blight of this kind of ideal - world-calumny! - wells up? Who has even ventured to suspect that these caverns exist? Who before me at all among philosophers has been a psychologist and not rather its opposite 'higher swindler', 'idealist'? Before me there was no psychology. - To be the first here can be a curse, it is in any case a destiny: for one is also the first to despise... Disgust at mankind is my danger...

7

Have I been understood? - What defines me, what sets me apart from all the rest of mankind, is that I have unmasked Christian morality. That is why I needed a word which would embody the sense of a challenge to everyone. Not to have opened its eyes here sooner counts to me as the greatest piece of uncleanliness which humanity has on its conscience, as self-deception become instinct, as a fundamental will not to observe every event, every cause, every reality, as false-coinage in psychologicis to the point of crime. Blindness in the face of Christianity is the crime par excellence - the crime against life... The millennia, the peoples, the first and the last, the philosophers and the old women - except for five or six moments of history, me as the seventh - on this point they are all worthy of one another. The Christian has hitherto been the 'moral being', a curiosity without equal - and, as 'moral being', more absurd, mendacious, vain, frivolous, harmful to himself than even the greatest despiser of mankind could have allowed himself to dream. Christian morality - the most malicious form of the will to the lie, the actual Circe of mankind: that which has ruined it. It is not error as error which horrifies me at the sight of this, not the millennia-long lack of 'good will', of discipline, of decency, of courage in spiritual affairs which betrays itself in its victory - it is the lack of nature, it is the utterly ghastly fact that anti-nature itself has received the highest honours as morality, and has hung over mankind as law, as categorical imperative!... To blunder to this extent, not as an individual, not as a people, but as mankind!... That contempt has been taught for the primary instincts of life; that a 'soul', a 'spirit' has been lyingly invented in order to destroy the body; that one teaches that there is something unclean in the precondition of life, sexuality; that the evil principle is sought in that which is most profoundly necessary for prosperity, in strict selfishness (- the very word is slanderous!); that on the other hand one sees in the typical signs of decline and contradictoriness of instinct, in the 'selfless', in loss of centre of gravity, in 'depersonalization' and 'love of one's neighbour' (- lust for one's neighbour!) the higher value, what am I saying! value in itself!... What! could mankind itself be in décadence? has it always been? - What is certain is that it has been taught only décadence values as supreme values. The morality of unselfing is the morality of decline par excellence, the fact 'I am perishing' translated into the imperative 'you all shall perish' - and not only into the imperative!... This sole morality which has hitherto been taught, the morality of unselfing, betrays a will to the end, it denies the very foundations of life. - Let us here leave the possibility open that it is not mankind which is degenerating but only that parasitic species of man the priest, who with the aid of morality has lied himself up to being the determiner of mankind's values - who divines in Christian morality his means to power... And that is in fact my insight: the teachers, the leaders of mankind, theologians included, have also one and all been décadents: thence the revaluation of all values into the inimical to life, thence morality... Definition of morality: morality - the idiosyncrasy of décadents with the hidden intention of avenging themselves on life - and successfully. I set store by this definition.

8

- Have I been understood? - I have not just now said a word that I could not have said five years ago through the mouth of Zarathustra. - The unmasking of Christian morality is an event without equal, a real catastrophe. He who exposes it is a force majeure, a destiny - he breaks the history of mankind into two parts. One lives before him, one lives after him... The lightning-bolt of truth struck precisely that which formerly stood highest: he who grasps what was then destroyed had better see whether he has anything at all left in his hands. Everything hitherto called 'truth' is recognized as the most harmful, malicious, most subterranean form of the lie; the holy pretext of 'improving' mankind as the cunning to suck out life itself and to make it anaemic. Morality as vampirism... He who unmasks morality has therewith unmasked the valuelessness of all values which are or have been believed in; he no longer sees in the most revered, even canonized types of man anything venerable, he sees in them the most fateful kind of abortion, fateful because they exercise fascination... The concept 'God' invented as the antithetical concept to life - everything harmful, noxious, slanderous, the whole mortal enmity against life brought into one terrible unity! The concept 'the Beyond', 'real world' invented so as to deprive of value the only world which exists - so as to leave over no goal, no reason, no task for our earthly reality! The concept 'soul', 'spirit', finally even 'immortal soul', invented so as to despise the body, so as to make it sick - 'holy' - so as to bring to all the things in life which deserve serious attention, the questions of nutriment, residence, cleanliness, weather, a horrifying frivolity! Instead of health 'salvation of the soul' - which is to say a folie circulaire between spasms of atonement and redemption hysteria! The concept 'sin' invented together with the instrument of torture which goes with it, the concept of 'free will', so as to confuse the instincts, so as to make mistrust of the instincts into second nature! In the concept of the 'selfless', of the 'self-denying' the actual badge of décadence, being lured by the harmful, no longer being able to discover where one's advantage lies, self-destruction, made the sign of value in general, made 'duty', 'holiness', the 'divine' in man! Finally - it is the most fearful - in the concept of the good man common cause made with everything weak, sick, illconstructed, suffering from itself, all that which ought to perish - the law of selection crossed, an ideal made of opposition to the proud and well-constituted, to the affirmative man, to the man certain of the future and guaranteeing the future - the latter is henceforth called the evil man... And all this was believed in as morality! - Ecrasez l'infâme! -

9

- Have I been understood? - Dionysos against the Crucified...

注释

★ 'We strive after the forbidden' (Ovid).

Twilight of the Idols
or How to Philosophize with a Hammer

Maxims and Arrows

1. Idleness is the beginning of psychology. What? could psychology be - a vice?

2. Even the bravest of us rarely has the courage for what he really knows...

3. To live alone one must be an animal or a god - says Aristotle. There is yet a third case: one must be both - a philosopher.

4. 'All truth is simple' - Is that not a compound lie? -

5. Once and for all, there is a great deal I do not want to know. - Wisdom sets bounds even to knowledge.

6. It is by being 'natural' that one best recovers from one's unnaturalness, from one's spirituality...

7. Which is it? Is man only God's mistake or God only man's mistake? -

8. From the military school of life - What does not kill me makes me stronger.

9. Help thyself: then everyone will help thee too. Principle of Christian charity.

10. Let us not be cowardly in face of our actions! Let us not afterwards leave them in the lurch! - Remorse of conscience is indecent.

11. Can an ass be tragic? - To be crushed by a burden one can neither bear nor throw off?... The case of the philosopher.

12. If we possess our why of life we can put up with almost any how. - Man does not strive after happiness; only the Englishman does that.

13. Man created woman - but what out of? Out of a rib of his God, of his 'ideal'...

14. What? you are seeking? you want to multiply yourself by ten, by a hundred? you are seeking followers? - Seek noughts!

15. Posthumous men - like me, for instance - are not so well understood as timely men, but they are listened to better. More precisely: we are never understood - and hence our authority...

16. Among women. - 'Truth? Oh, you don't know the truth, do you! Is it not an outrage on all our pudeurs?' -

17. This is an artist as an artist should be, modest in his requirements: there are only two things he really wants, his bread and his art - panem et Circen...

18. He who does not know how to put his will into things at least puts a meaning into them: that is, he believes there is a will in them already (principle of 'belief').

19. What? you have chosen virtue and the heaving bosom, yet at the same time look with envy on the advantages enjoyed by those who live for the day? - But with virtue one renounces 'advantage'... (laid at the door of an anti-Semite).

20. The complete woman perpetrates literature in the same way as she perpetrates a little sin: as an experiment, in passing, looking around to see if someone notices and so that someone may notice...

21. To get into only those situations in which illusory virtues are of no use, but in which, like the tightrope-walker on his rope, one either falls or stands - or gets off...

22. 'Bad men have no songs' - How is it the Russians have songs?

23. 'German spirit': for eighteen years a contradictio in adjecta.

24. In order to look for beginners one becomes a crab. The historian looks backwards; at last he also believes backwards.

25. Contentment protects one even from catching a cold. Has a woman who knew she was well dressed ever caught a cold? - I am assuming she was hardly dressed at all.

26. I mistrust all systematizers and avoid them. The will to a system is a lack of integrity.

27. Women are considered deep - why? because one can never discover any bottom to them. Women are not even shallow.

28. If a woman possesses manly virtues one should run away from her; and if she does not possess them she runs away herself.

29. 'How much the conscience formerly had to bite on! what good teeth it had! - And today? what's the trouble?' - A dentist's question.

30. One seldom commits only one rash act. In the first rash act one always does too much. For just that reason one usually commits a second - and then one does too little...

31. When it is trodden on a worm will curl up. That is prudent. It thereby reduces the chance of being trodden on again. In the language of morals: humility. -

32. Hatred of lies and dissembling may arise out of a sensitive notion of honour; the same hatred may arise out of cowardice, in as much as lying is forbidden by divine command. Too cowardly to tell lies...

33. How little is needed for happiness! The note of a bagpipe. - Without music life would be a mistake. The German even thinks of God as singing songs.

34. On ne peut penser et écrire qu'assis (G. Flaubert). - Now I have you, nihilist! Assiduity is the sin against the holy spirit. Only ideas won by walking have any value.

35. There are times when we are like horses, we psychologists, and grow restive: we see our own shadow moving up and down before us. The psychologist has to look away from himself in order to see at all.

36. Whether we immoralists do virtue any harm? - As little as anarchists do princes. Only since they have been shot at do they again sit firmly on their thrones. Moral: one must shoot at morals.

37. You run on ahead? - Do you do so as a herdsman? or as an exception? A third possibility would be as a deserter... First question of conscience.

38. Are you genuine? or only an actor? A representative? or that itself which is represented? - Finally you are no more than an imitation of an actor... Second question of conscience.

39. The disappointed man speaks. - I sought great human beings, I never found anything but the apes of their ideal.

40. Are you one who looks on? or who sets to work? - or who looks away, turns aside... Third question of conscience.

41. Do you want to accompany? or go on ahead? or go off alone?... One must know what one wants and that one wants. - Fourth question of conscience.

42. For me they were steps, I have climbed up upon them - therefore I had to pass over them. But they thought I wanted to settle down on them...

43. What does it matter that I am proved right! I am too much in the right. - And he who laughs best today will also laugh last.

44. Formula of my happiness; a Yes, a No, a straight line, a goal...

The Four Great Errors

1

The error of confusing cause and consequence. - There is no more dangerous error than that of mistaking the consequence for the cause: I call it reason's intrinsic form of corruption. None the less, this error is among the most ancient and most recent habits of mankind: it is even sanctified among us, it bears the names 'religion' and 'morality'. Every proposition formulated by religion and morality contains it, priests and moral legislators are the authors of this corruption of reason. - I adduce an example. Everyone knows the book of the celebrated Cornaro in which he recommends his meagre diet as a recipe for a long and happy life - a virtuous one, too. Few books have been so widely read; even now many thousands of copies are printed in England every year. I do not doubt that hardly any book (the Bible rightly excepted) has done so much harm, has shortened so many lives, as this curiosity, which was so well meant. The reason: mistaking the consequence for the cause. The worthy Italian saw in his diet the cause of his long life: while the prerequisite of long life, an extraordinarily slow metabolism, a small consumption, was the cause of his meagre diet. He was not free to eat much or little as he chose, his frugality was not an act of 'free will': he became ill when he ate more. But if one is not a bony fellow of this sort one does not merely do well, one positively needs to eat properly. A scholar of our day, with his rapid consumption of nervous energy, would kill himself with Cornaro's regimen. Credo experto. -

2

The most general formula at the basis of every religion and morality is: 'Do this and this, refrain from this and this - and you will be happy! Otherwise...' Every morality, every religion is this imperative - I call it the great original sin of reason, immortal unreason. In my mouth this formula is converted into its reverse - first example of my 'revaluation of all values': a well-constituted human being, a 'happy one', must perform certain actions and instinctively shrinks from other actions, he transports the order of which he is the physiological representative into his relations with other human beings and with things. In a formula: his virtue is the consequence of his happiness... Long life, a plentiful posterity is not the reward of virtue, virtue itself is rather just that slowing down of the metabolism which also has, among other things, a long life, a plentiful posterity, in short Cornarism, as its outcome. - The Church and morality say: 'A race, a people perishes through vice and luxury'. My restored reason says: when a people is perishing, degenerating physiologically, vice and luxury (that is to say the necessity for stronger and stronger and more and more frequent stimulants, such as every exhausted nature is acquainted with) follow therefrom. A young man grows prematurely pale and faded. His friends say: this and that illness is to blame. I say: that he became ill, that he failed to resist the illness, was already the consequence of an impoverished life, an hereditary exhaustion. The newspaper reader says: this party will ruin itself if it makes errors like this. My higher politics says: a party which makes errors like this is already finished - it is no longer secure in its instincts. Every error, of whatever kind, is a consequence of degeneration of instinct, disgregation of will: one has thereby virtually defined the bad. Everything good is instinct - and consequently easy, necessary, free. Effort is an objection, the god is typically distinguished from the hero (in my language: light feet are the first attribute of divinity).

3

The error of a false causality. - We have always believed we know what a cause is: but whence did we derive our knowledge, more precisely our belief we possessed this knowledge? From the realm of the celebrated 'inner facts', none of which has up till now been shown to be factual. We believed ourselves to be causal agents in the act of willing; we at least thought we were there catching causality in the act. It was likewise never doubted that all the antecedentia of an action, its causes, were to be sought in the consciousness and could be discovered there if one sought them - as 'motives': for otherwise one would not have been free to perform it, responsible for it. Finally, who would have disputed that a thought is caused? that the ego causes the thought?... Of these three 'inner facts' through which causality seemed to be guaranteed the first and most convincing was that of will as cause; the conception of a consciousness ('mind') as cause and later still that of the ego (the 'subject') as cause are merely after-products after causality had, on the basis of will, been firmly established as a given fact, as empiricism... Meanwhile, we have thought better. Today we do not believe a word of it. The 'inner world' is full of phantoms and false lights: the will is one of them. The will no longer moves anything, consequently no longer explains anything - it merely accompanies events, it can also be absent. The so-called 'motive': another error. Merely a surface phenomenon of consciousness, an accompaniment to an act, which conceals rather than exposes the antecedentia of the act. And as for the ego! It has become a fable, a fiction, a play on words: it has totally ceased to think, to feel and to will!... What follows from this? There are no spiritual causes at all! The whole of the alleged empiricism which affirmed them has gone to the devil! That is what follows! - And we had made a nice misuse of that 'empiricism', we had created the world on the basis of it as a world of causes, as a world of will, as a world of spirit. The oldest and longest-lived psychology was at work here - indeed it has done nothing else: every event was to it an action, every action the effect of a will, the world became for it a multiplicity of agents, an agent ('subject') foisted itself upon every event. Man projected his three 'inner facts', that in which he believed more firmly than in anything else, will, spirit, ego, outside himself - he derived the concept 'being' only from the concept 'ego', he posited 'things' as possessing being according to his own image, according to his concept of the ego as cause. No wonder cause-creating drive; we want to have a reason for feeling as we do - for feeling well or for feeling ill. It never suffices us simply to establish the mere fact that we feel as we do: we acknowledge this fact - become conscious of it - only when we have furnished it with a motivation of some kind. - The memory, which in such a case becomes active without our being aware of it, calls up earlier states of a similar kind and the causal interpretations which have grown out of them - not their causality. To be sure, the belief that these ideas, the accompanying occurrences in the consciousness, were causes is also brought up by the memory. Thus there arises an habituation to a certain causal interpretation which in truth obstructs and even prohibits an investigation of the cause.

5

Psychological explanation. - To trace something unknown back to something known is alleviating, soothing, gratifying and gives moreover a feeling of power. Danger, disquiet, anxiety attend the unknown - the first instinct is to eliminate these distressing states. First principle: any explanation is better than none. Because it is at bottom only a question of wanting to get rid of oppressive ideas, one is not exactly particular about what means one uses to get rid of them: the first idea which explains that the unknown is in fact the known does so much good that one 'holds it for true'. Proof by pleasure ('by potency') as criterion of truth. - The cause-creating drive is thus conditioned and excited by the feeling of fear. The question 'why?' should furnish, if at all possible, not so much the cause for its own sake as a certain kind of cause - a soothing, liberating, alleviating cause. That something already known, experienced, inscribed in the memory is posited as cause is the first consequence of this need. The new, the unexperienced, the strange is excluded from being cause. - Thus there is sought not only some kind of explanation as cause, but a selected and preferred kind of explanation, the kind by means of which the feeling of the strange, new, unexperienced is most speedily and most frequently abolished - the most common explanations. - Consequence: a particular kind of causeascription comes to preponderate more and more, becomes concentrated into a system and finally comes to dominate over the rest, that is to say simply to exclude other causes and explanations. - The banker thinks at once of 'business', the Christian of 'sin', the girl of her love.

6

The entire realm of morality and religion falls under this concept of imaginary causes. - 'Explanation' of unpleasant general feelings. They arise from beings hostile to us (evil spirits: most celebrated case - hysterics misunderstood as witches). They arise from actions we cannot approve of (the feeling of 'sin', of 'culpability' foisted upon a physiological discomfort - one always finds reasons for being discontented with oneself). They arise as punishments, as payment for something we should not have done, should not have been (generalized in an impudent form by Schopenhauer into a proposition in which morality appears for what it is, the actual poisoner and calumniator of life: 'Every great pain, whether physical or mental, declares what it is we deserve; for it could not have come upon us if we had not deserved it.' World as Will and Idea Ⅱ 666). They arise as the consequences of rash actions which have turned out badly (- the emotions, the senses assigned as 'cause', as 'to blame'; physiological states of distress construed, with the aid of other states of distress, as 'deserved'). - 'Explanation' of pleasant general feelings. They arise from trust in God. They arise from the consciousness of good actions (the so-called 'good conscience', a physiological condition sometimes so like a sound digestion as to be mistaken for it). They arise from the successful outcome of undertakings (- naïve fallacy: the successful outcome of an undertaking certainly does not produce any pleasant general feelings in a hypochondriac or a Pascal). They arise from faith, hope and charity - the Christian virtues. - In reality all these supposed explanations are consequential states and as it were translations of pleasurable and unpleasurable feelings into a false dialect: one is in a state in which one can experience hope because the physiological basic feeling is once more strong and ample; one trusts in God because the feeling of plenitude and strength makes one calm. - Morality and religion fall entirely under the psychology of error: in every single case cause is mistaken for effect; or the effect of what is believed true is mistaken for the truth; or a state of consciousness is mistaken for the causation of this state.

7

The error of free will. - We no longer have any sympathy today with the concept of 'free will': we know only too well what it is - the most infamous of all the arts of the theologian for making mankind 'accountable' in his sense of the word, that is to say for making mankind dependent on him... I give here only the psychology of making men accountable. - Everywhere accountability is sought, it is usually the instinct for punishing and judging which seeks it. One has deprived becoming of its innocence if being in this or that state is traced back to will, to intentions, to accountable acts: the doctrine of will has been invented essentially for the purpose of punishment, that is of finding guilty. The whole of the old-style psychology, the psychology of will, has as its precondition the desire of its authors, the priests at the head of the ancient communities, to create for themselves a right to ordain punishments - or their desire to create for God a right to do so... Men were thought of as 'free' so that they could become guilty: consequently, every action had to be thought of as willed, the origin of every action as lying in the consciousness (- whereby the most fundamental falsification in psychologicis was made into the very principle of psychology)... Today, when we have started to move in the reverse direction, when we immoralists especially are trying with all our might to remove the concept of guilt and the concept of punishment from the world and to purge psychology, history, nature, the social institutions and sanctions of them, there is in our eyes no more radical opposition than that of the theologians, who continue to infect the innocence of becoming with 'punishment' and 'guilt' by means of the concept of the 'moral world-order'. Christianity is a hangman's metaphysics...

8

What alone can our teaching be? - That no one gives a human being his qualities: not God, not society, not his parents or ancestors, not he himself (- the nonsensical idea here last rejected was propounded, as 'intelligible freedom', by Kant, and perhaps also by Plato before him). No one is accountable for existing at all, or for being constituted as he is, or for living in the circumstances and surroundings in which he lives. The fatality of his nature cannot be disentangled from the fatality of all that which has been and will be. He is not the result of a special design, a will, a purpose; he is not the subject of an attempt to attain to an 'ideal of man' or an 'ideal of happiness' or an 'ideal of morality' - it is absurd to want to hand over his nature to some purpose or other. We invented the concept 'purpose': in reality purpose is lacking... One is necessary, one is a piece of fate, one belongs to the whole, one is in the whole - there exists nothing which could judge, measure, compare, condemn our being, for that would be to judge, measure, compare, condemn the whole... But nothing exists apart from the whole! - That no one is any longer made accountable, that the kind of being manifested cannot be traced back to a causa prima, that the world is a unity neither as sensorium nor as 'spirit', this alone is the great liberation - thus alone is the innocence of becoming restored... The concept 'God' has hitherto been the greatest objection to existence... We deny God; in denying God, we deny accountability: only by doing that do we redeem the world. -

The Hammer Speaks

'Why so hard?' the charcoal once said to the diamond; 'for are we not close relations?'

Why so soft? O my brothers, thus I ask you: for are you not - my brothers?

Why so soft, unresisting and yielding? Why is there so much denial and abnegation in your hearts? So little fate in your glances?

And if you will not be fates, if you will not be inexorable: how can you - conquer with me?

And if your hardness will not flash and cut and cut to pieces: how can you one day - create with me?

For all creators are hard. And it must seem bliss to you to press your hand upon millennia as upon wax,
bliss to write upon the will of millennia as upon metal - harder than metal, nobler than metal. Only the noblest is perfectly hard.

This new law-table do I put over you, O my brothers: Become hard!

目　录

中文目录

英文目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

看不见的手

（英汉双语）

［英］亚当·斯密　著

马睿　译

中国出版集团

中国对外翻译出版公司

1
论劳动分工

人类劳动生产力最显著的提高，以及人们在进行劳动、应用劳动时所体现出来的绝大部分技能、熟练性和决断力，似乎都是劳动分工的结果。

要了解劳动分工在社会的一般事务中的作用，比较容易的方法是考察在某些具体的制造业中是如何进行劳动分工的。人们普遍认为，在某些微不足道的制造业中，劳动分工是最细的；或许并不是这些微不足道的制造业真的要比那些更为重要的制造业分工更细，而是在那些只须满足少数人的少量需求的微小制造业中，工人的总数必然很少，整个工作过程中各个不同部门雇用的人员往往可以聚集在同一个车间，我们可以一下子就看见他们。相反，在那些满足大多数人的大量需求的大型制造业中，工作过程中每一个不同的工作部门都会雇用很多人，所以不可能将他们集中在一个车间干活。除了在同一个部门干活的人之外，我们很少能一次看见很多人。因此，尽管和那些微小的制造业相比，这类制造业中的劳动实际上划分要细致得多，分成很多部门，但其分工并不是特别明显，因而不太会被人注意。

故试举一个非常微小的制造业，在该制造业中人们往往能够注意到劳动分工的例子，比如别针制造业。一个没有受过任何职业培训（劳动分工使之成为一种专门的职业），也不熟悉该职业所使用的机械如何应用（同样，这类机械的发明很可能是劳动分工的结果）的人或许无论怎样吃苦耐劳，勤勤恳恳，也不一定能一天做出一枚别针，更不能做20枚了。但是该行业发展到今天，不仅整个工作已成为专门的职业，而且这种职业又分成了许多部门，其中大部分部门又逐渐成为专门的职业。一个人抽出铁丝，另一个人将其拉直，第三个人将其切断，第四个人将其一端削尖，第五个人将另一端打磨好以便装上圆头；制作圆头则另需要三种不同的操作；装圆头、把针涂白，以及把针装到纸盒里都已经是专门的职业。这样，别针制造这样一个重要的职业就被分成大约18种不同的工序。在有些工厂中，这18种不同的工序分别由18个人操作，而在其他工厂，有时会有一个人担任两三种不同的操作。我见过一间这种类型的小工厂，只雇用了10个人，其中有几个人从事两三种不同的操作。尽管他们很穷而根本不考虑购买必要的机械设备，但他们如果勤勉努力，仍然能够每天制造12磅重的别针。中等大小的别针，1磅最多可达4000枚。以此计算，这10个人一天最多可以生产48000枚别针，每个人的生产量为这一总数的1/10，这样我们可以大致推断出，每人每天可以制造4800枚别针。但是如果所有这些人分开独立工作，且其中没有人受过该行业的专门培训的话，则每人每天制造的别针数量不会达到20枚，甚至有可能1枚也制造不出来；那样一来，他们每天的工作量或许不及现今工作量的1/240，甚至不及现今工作量的1/4800，相比之下，如今的高效正是合理分工和不同工种之间协同合作的结果。

别针制造虽然是微不足道的行业，但就劳动分工的效果来说，其他各种工艺和制造业与其没有什么差别，尽管许多行业中的劳动分工没有这么细，也不可能简化成如此简单的操作。然而一旦可以进行劳动分工，则必然可以在每一种工艺中相应地提高劳动生产力。各个行业之所以各自分立，雇用不同的员工，似乎也是因为劳动分工能够带来这样的裨益。那些工业水平和劳动生产力水平极高的国家，其行业分工的程度也很高；在较为原始的社会中由一个人完成的工作，在较为现代的国家则一般需要好几个人协作完成。在每一个进步的社会中，农民一般只是单纯的农民，而制造业者也只是单纯的制造业者。而且任何一件完整的制造业产品也几乎总是必须由许多人共同完成。以制麻业和毛织业为例，从亚麻和羊毛的生产到麻布的漂白和烫平，再到麻布的染色和浆纱，各部门使用了许多不同的技艺。和制造业相比，农业的性质的确不容许有这么多精细的劳动分工，各种工作彼此也不像制造业那样完全独立分开。我们不可能将养畜人和谷物种植者的工作截然分立，但是木匠和铁匠所从事的工艺则完全不同。纺纱和织布几乎是完全不同的两个行当，而犁耕、耙掘、播种和收割经常可以由同一个人进行。农业对这些不同种类劳动的需要是随着一年中季节的变化而变换的，因此不可能雇用一个人经常性地来从事其中任何一种劳动。或许正因为不能雇用完全不同的人来从事不同类型的农业劳动，农业生产力的提高总是不能够与工业同步。的确，一般来说最富有的国家在农业和制造业方面都要优于邻国，然而相对于农业而言，这些国家在制造业方面的优越性通常更为明显和突出。在这些富有的国家，土地的耕种情况更好，所投入的劳动力和资本也更多，在土地面积和肥沃程度相同的情况下，也能有更多的产出。因而其农产品产量上的优越程度很少能与劳动力和资本投入上的优越程度成正比。在农业方面，富国和穷国劳动力的生产力水平差异并不一定很大；或至少不会像制造业的生产力水平差异那么大。因此，如果质量相同的话，富国生产的谷物价格不一定会比穷国低廉。在质量相同的情况下，波兰生产的谷物价格可能会和法国一样，尽管后者的富裕和社会进步程度要优于前者。在法国那些生产谷物的省份，谷物的质量和英国的谷物完全没有差别，在大多数年份中其价格也与英国谷物持平，尽管法国的富裕和社会进步程度或许要逊于英国。然而就田地的耕种水平来说，英国要高于法国，据说法国的耕种水平也大大高于波兰。不过尽管在耕种水平较为低下的穷国，谷物的价格和质量可以在一定程度上与富国媲美，但在制造业方面则根本不能妄想；至少在富国的土壤、气候和天然条件适合这些制造业的时候，情况是这样。法国的丝绸比英国的更物美价廉，因为至少在当前生丝进口关税如此之高的情况下，法国的气候比英国更适宜丝绸生产。然而英国的五金器具和生羊毛无论从哪一方面来说都远胜于法国，在质量相同的前提下，其价格也比法国便宜。据说波兰除了少数几种家庭用品制造业外几乎没有什么制造业，这少数几种还都是些较为原始的，任何国家都不可或缺的制造业。

有了劳动分工，单位数量的人在单位时间内可以从事的工作比过去多得多，主要有三个原因：首先，每一个工人的劳动熟练程度提高了；其次，由一个工种转到另一个工种通常要损失很多时间，现在这些时间省下了；最后，大量提高劳动效率、精简劳动强度的机器的发明，使得如今一个人可以做过去许多人做的工作。

先看第一个原因。工人劳动熟练程度的提高必然会增加他可以从事的劳动的数量；劳动分工将每一个人的业务简化为某一种简单的操作，这又使这一操作成为此人一生所从事的唯一职业，由此必然会大大提高工人的劳动熟练程度。一个惯于使用铁锤却从不曾练习如何制作铆钉的铁匠，一旦遭遇某种特殊情况必须试着制作铆钉，我坚信他每天可能最多制作两三枚，且铆钉的质量还低劣不堪。即便是经常制作铆钉的铁匠，如果铆钉制作不是他唯一或主要的工作，即使他竭尽全力，也很难在一天之内制作出800或1000枚铆钉。我见过几个不到20岁的青年，他们除了制作铆钉外没有练习过其他技艺，这些人如果竭尽全力，则每人每天最多可以制作2300枚铆钉。然而制作铆钉绝不是最为简单的操作。同一个人要拉风箱，要在必要时调整火力，要将铁烧热，锤打铆钉的每一部分；在锻造钉头时他还不得不换工具。如果将制作一枚别针或一个金属钮扣的整个工序细分成不同的操作，所有的操作就要简单得多，如果一个人以其中的某一种操作作为一生的职业的话，其劳动的熟练程度就要高得多。制造业中某些工序的完成速度极其快，在那些从未亲眼见过的人看来，人类的双手根本不可能可以达到这样的速度。

第二，由一个工种转换到另一个工种通常要损失很多时间，而节省这段时间所带来的好处也绝不是我们一开始就能够想到的。人们不可能从一个工种很快转换到另一个位于不同地点且需要完全不同的工具进行操作的工种。一个乡间的织工同时耕种一小片耕地，离开织机走到田间就需要一段时间，从田间回到织机还需要一段时间。诚然，如果可以在同一个车间进行两种业务操作，所花费的时间无疑会减少很多，但即使是这样，浪费仍然是巨大的。人们从一个工作转到另一个工作，一般都会休息或闲逛一会儿，很难在刚开始一项新工作时就精力集中地全情投入；这时他们总是难免心不在焉，因此有一段时间与其说他们在工作，不如说他们在虚晃时间。每一个农村劳动者因为每半个小时就要更换工作和工具，一生中几乎每天都要做20种不同的工作，自然而且一定会养成这种闲逛和懒散的习惯，这常常会导致农村劳动者总是懒惰散漫，即使时间紧迫，他们也不能够全身心地投入工作。这样看来，先不说他是否技艺娴熟，单此一个原因，就大大降低了他的工作效率。

第三，也是最后一个原因。每个人都知道应用适当的机械设备能够在某种程度上提高劳动效率、简化劳动工序，再举例论证难免多余。因此我在这里只需讨论一下，所有那些提高效率、简化工序的机器之所以被发明问世，起因也都是劳动分工。只有人们不再在各种工序和工具的转换中浪费时间，而是全身心地投入到一个目标上时，才更有可能发现更加简单和快速地达到该目标的方法。而分工的结果，正是每个人都自然而然地把全部注意力投注在某一种很单一的目标上。因此只要工作的性质还有改良的余地，在每一个具体劳动部门从事具体劳动的人自然会很快发现新的方法，使其自身的工作更加简单，完成起来也更容易。在劳动分工最细的制造业中使用的大多数机器，最初都是由普通工人发明的，他们受雇从事某些很简单的操作，自然会考虑如何找到更加简单和快速的方法来执行这些操作。那些常去这类制造业参观的人一定会经常看到这类设计相当巧妙的机器，它们就是这类工人为了改进和提高各自特定工作的效率而发明的。在最早的蒸汽机中，本来需要雇用一个男孩根据活塞的升降不断转换开关，连接和断开锅炉和汽缸之间的通路。其中一个男孩因为贪玩，发现在开关该通路的阀门把手处系上一根绳子，阀门即可自行开关，这样他就能跑去和玩伴们游戏了。这是自蒸汽机发明以来人们对其做出的最大改进之一，而这一改进正是一个希望节省劳动的小男孩发现的。

然而，绝不是所有机械设备的改进都是有机会使用这些机器的人发明的。许多改进是出于机械制造师的聪明才智，而所谓的机械制造师，正是在机械制造成为一个专门行业之后形成的；有些则是所谓的哲学家或思想者的智慧结晶，他们并非每日身体力行地做事，而是以观察万物为业；因此，这些人往往能够将一些完全不同且毫不相干的事物的力量结合起来加以利用。和其他各个行业一样，随着社会的逐渐进步，哲学或思考也成为某一类公民主要或唯一的职业。同样，和其他各个行业一样，哲学也被细分为大量不同的分支，每一个分支又为一群或一类哲学家提供专门职业；哲学行业的分工，也和所有其他行业的细致分工一样，提高了人们的技艺熟练程度，节约了时间。每个人更加专精于自己所从事的那份工作。这样一来，从总体而言，就能做更多的工作，从而大大提高了这门学问的整体质量。

在一个治理得很好的社会中，正是劳动分工使得所有不同行业的生产力水平大为提高，为整个社会带来了普遍财富，最底层的人也能够享受到这种普遍财富带来的利益。每个工人在自己的工作中所创造的产品大大超出了他自己的需要；所有其他人的情况也完全一样，能用大量自己的产品换得大量他人生产的产品或等价物品。他大量提供给他人所需要的产品，后者也同样大量满足他个人的需要；整个社会的所有阶层就普遍富裕起来。

考察一下一个文明和繁荣国家中最普通的工匠或临时工的生活用品，你就会知道，为了使他们能享用到这些生活用品，那些行业中的人必须提供自己生产的一部分，但这样的人却多得难以计数。以临时工身上穿的羊毛外衣为例，无论看起来多么粗制滥造，也是许许多多工人共同劳动的成果。牧羊人、选毛人、梳毛人、染工、梳理工、纺工、织工、漂洗工、裁缝工，等等，必须将这些人的工作结合起来，才能够完成如此简单朴素的一件产品。加之这些劳动者的住处往往相隔很远，在彼此之间运送材料，又需要多少商人和运输工人啊！染工所使用的染料往往来自世界另一端某个遥远的角落，要将各种不同的染料汇集在一起，又需要多少商人、运输工，加上船工、水手、帆布和绳索制造者的辛勤工作！还有，这些工人手中拿的哪怕是最简单的工具，又需要多少不同的劳动工种相互协作！水手的船只、漂洗工的作坊，甚至织工的织机这类复杂的机械姑且不论，单说那无比简单的器具，牧羊人修剪羊毛的剪刀，都需要许多种不同的劳动才能制成。为了生产这样一把简单的剪刀，就需要把采矿工、熔炉制造工、伐木工、熔矿炉所用焦炭的烧炭工、制砖工、泥瓦匠、锅炉工、作坊建造者、锻工、铁匠等所有人各自不同的技艺全部结合起来才行。如果我们以同样的方式再考察一下他身上穿的所有衣服或家里的所有家具，他贴身穿的粗麻衬衫、脚上穿的鞋子、家里睡的床，乃至这张床的不同部件、他在厨房做饭用的炉子、他做饭所用的煤炭（那可是从地下深处挖掘出来，或许经过很远的水路和陆路运输才到达他这里），乃至厨房里的其他各种用具、桌子上的所有用具、刀叉、盛放和分发食物用的陶瓷盘子和锡盘子，为他制作面包和啤酒要用到多少工种、雇用多少工人，他房间里保温、采光、遮风挡雨用的玻璃窗——那华美而令人愉快的发明中凝聚着多少知识和艺术，没有玻璃，整个北半球大概没有一处适宜人们舒适地居住——再想一想，为生产所有这些生活用品所雇用的人手中又要拿着多少种不同的工具；总之，如果我们考察一下所有这些物品，想一想其中每一件物品要雇用多少劳动力才能制成，就能够理解，在文明社会中，如果没有成千上万人的协助和合作，普通工人就不可能得到他通常所能得到的那些按照我们的理解，平常而又简单的生活用品。诚然，和大人物豪华奢侈的生活相比，普通工人的生活用品看上去当然无比简单；不过，这可是真的，欧洲某国王子的生活用品并非总是远超一个勤劳节俭的农民的生活用品，而后者的生活用品却超过了许多非洲君主的生活用品，要知道这些大人物可是成千上万赤裸草民生命和自由的绝对主宰啊！

2
劳动分工的原理

尽管人类智慧地预见到劳动分工能够带来普遍富裕，并希望利用它来实现这一目的，劳动分工，乃至其产生的诸多裨益，却不是人类智慧的结晶。它是人性中某种倾向的必然结果——尽管产生这种结果需要经历一个缓慢而渐进的过程，而其本身也未曾期待有如此广泛的效用——那就是物物交换、以物易物和互相交易的倾向。

这种倾向到底是人性中最原始又无法进一步解释说明的原则之一，还是听起来更接近于事实，是人类理性和言语能力的必然结果，并不是我们当前探究的话题。这种倾向人人皆有，亦为人所特有，其他动物不会拥有，其他动物似乎不懂得订立任何形式的契约——包括这种交换在内。两只猎犬在追逐同一只野兔时，有时会出现某种意义上的协同行为：将猎物驱往对方的方向，或者在猎物被逐至己方时努力拦截。然而猎犬之间的彼此“配合”并非因为它们受到某种契约的约束，而是因为恰巧在那个特定时刻，它们对同一个目标产生了共同的渴望。我们从未见过两只狗公平谨慎地交换彼此的骨头，也从未见过有任何动物通过自己的肢体动作和叫声向同类示意这是我的，那是你的；我想用我的这根骨头来换你的那根。如果动物想从人或者其他动物那里得到什么，除了博取对方欢心之外，没有其他的说服手段。小狗若要吃奶，就得奉承讨好母狗；家犬若要得到食物，就得在主人就餐之时做出种种娇态引起注意。人类对其同伴有时也会采用同样的手段。当有求于他人又没有其他办法达到目的时，他会卑躬屈膝、阿谀奉承来博得他人的好感。然而一个人并不总是如此幸运。在文明社会，人们随时会需要他人的各种合作和帮助，虽倾其一生也难以结交到几个知己好友。在其他动物中，每个个体一旦发育成熟便完全独立，在自然状态下，并不需要其他动物的帮助。但是人却时常需要同伴的帮助，而单单指望对方的善心是徒劳无益的。如果能够影响他们，利用其利己之心，使其明白此时提供帮助完全符合其自身的利益，那么达到目的可能性就要大一些。任何一个希望和他人进行交易的人都会这样提议。这种提议的要义在于：给我我想要的，你就能得到你想要的。正是通过这种方式，彼此得到了自己所需要的绝大部分服务。我们的一日三餐并非来自屠夫、酿酒师或面包烘焙师的恩惠，而是来源于他们对自身利益的考虑。我们不是向他们乞求仁慈，而是诉诸他们的利己之心；我们不谈论我们的需要，而只谈对他们的好处。除了乞丐，不会有人选择把大部分希望寄托于他人的恩惠，即使乞丐也并不全依赖于此。乐善好施之人的施舍的确为乞丐提供了全部生存必需品。由此，尽管乞丐通过这种方法最终获得了他的全部生活所需，但他没有，也不可能在每当有需要的时候得到自己想要的东西。和其他人一样，他也要通过协定、交换和购买来满足自己平时绝大多数的需求。他用某人施舍的钱买来了食物；用另一个人赠予的旧衣物换来适合自己尺寸的旧衣物，或栖身之所，或一餐食物，或者他把旧衣卖掉，用得来的钱随时购买自己需要的食物、衣服或住所。

正如人们通过协定、交换和买卖等方式彼此获得了自己需要的绝大部分服务，也正是这种相互交易的倾向最初引发了劳动分工。例如在以狩猎或游牧为生的部落，有人擅于打造弓弩，其技艺之娴熟超过其他族人。他便经常用自己制作的弓弩和族人交易，换得家禽和兽肉。并且他后来发现，通过交换得来的家禽和兽肉要比自己亲自去狩猎得到的更多。因此，出于个人利益之考虑，弓弩制作逐渐成为他的主要营生，如此他就成了最初意义上的弓弩制作师。另有人擅于制作棚屋或活动房的屋架和屋顶。他已习惯用自己的这门手艺，给族人制作屋架和屋顶来交换家禽和兽肉，直到后来他发现全力以赴于这门手艺符合他自身的利益，因此他也就成了最初的木匠。就这样，有人以同样的方式成为铁匠或铜匠，还有人成为毛皮或皮革（这是原始人类主要的衣料）硝皮人或鞣革人。因此，当人们确定能够用自己的劳动产品中自己消费不掉的所有剩余部分去交换自己需要的他人劳动产品的剩余部分时，便得到了鼓励，开始从事各自擅长的某一专门职业，并不断改进和完善自己为了从事这些专门职业的资质或才能。

事实上，不同的人在天赋才能上的差异比我们想象的要小得多，而且，促使人们最终从事不同职业的天赋差异，在其发展成熟之时，多半并非劳动分工的原因，而是分工的结果。两个特性全然不同的人，比如一个哲学家和一个普通的街头搬运工，与其说是天分有差异，倒不如说是后天的习惯、风俗和教育起到了很大的作用。在他们刚来到这个世界上前六年或者八年，两者几乎没有什么不同，无论是各自的父母还是玩伴都察觉不到两者之间有任何明显差异。也就在那个年纪，或者紧接着的几年里，他们开始了截然不同的活动。此后他们才能的差异才得以凸显并逐渐扩大，直到最后，哲学家的虚荣心使他不愿承认自己与搬运工之间存在任何相同之处。但是如果没有物物交换、以物易物和互相交易的倾向，每一个人都必须自己设法获得需要的生活必要品和便利品。所有的人都必须行使同样的职责，干同样的工作，那么，就没有什么职业上的差别，产生巨大才能差异的唯一根源也就不复存在了。

交换的倾向造就了才能的不同——不同职业者在才能上的差异看来极其显著——也正是这种倾向使得这种差异能够为人所用。要知道许多被认为属于同一族的动物在自然界中生存所产生的天资差异，要远远大于人类在未受习俗熏陶和教育影响时的天赋差异。就其本性而言，一个哲学家与一个街头搬运工在天资和性情上的差异，一点也不会比大獒犬与灰毛犬，或者灰毛犬与长毛犬，或者长毛犬与牧羊犬之间的差别更大。不过那些不同种类的动物，尽管都属于同一族，却很少能够对彼此有用。大獒犬以力大取胜，绝不会从灰毛犬的敏捷、长毛犬的聪明或牧羊犬的温顺中得到助益和激励。动物的这些天资与才能的差异，因为缺少易物或交换的能力和倾向，无法被摆放在同一个平台上加以利用，因而也就无法对改进生存条件和生存实利产生任何裨益。动物依然必须依靠个体的力量单枪匹马地存活和防卫，丝毫没有受益于自然界所赋予它们的个体差异。而人类则相反，即使是天分差别最大的人也会对彼此有用，可以说，人类利用各自才能生产的不同产品，通过交易，易物和交换这种普遍倾向，被摆放在同一个平台上。每个人在这里，可以根据自己的需要购买到他人利用其聪明才智生产的任何产品。

3
商业体系的原理

通常认为，政治经济学是经济学的一个分支，是政治家或立法者的经济学，它提出了两个明确的目标：其一，为该国征缴足量的税收或维持国民生存的钱款，更确切地讲，国民要能够为该国缴纳足量的税收或维持自身生存的钱款。其二，要为整个国家或全体国民提供足够的收入，使公共服务得以维系。简单地说，政治经济学的目标就是国富民强。

谈到国民的富足，各国在不同时期所经历的迈向富强之路各不相同，由此产生了两种迥异的政治经济体系：其一可谓商业体系，其二则是农业体系。

［……］

一个普遍的概念是，财富的多少是用货币或金银这两种贵金属的数量来衡量的，这源于货币的双重职能——既是交易工具又是价值尺度。鉴于货币的第一重性质，我们无需借助其他商品便可随时以货币换得自己需要的物品。人们总是觉得挣钱乃是大事，只要有钱，想买什么都轻而易举。而鉴于货币的第二重性质，我们一般会根据交换所用的货币数量来估量商品的价值。正因为如此，我们称富人价值千金，说穷人不名一文。我们说节俭吝啬或迫切渴望变富的人喜爱钱财，认为那些大大咧咧、出手大方，或生活富足的人不那么贪恋钱财。富有即是钱多，简单来讲，财富和货币在一般人的语言中没有丝毫差别。

正如富人腰缠万贯，富足之国理应储存大量的货币；无论哪个国家，走向富强的最便捷的途径莫过于积累大量金银。在发现美洲之后的一段时间里，西班牙人每登陆一个陌生的海岸，首先要做的，就是查看能否在附近找到金银。然后再根据搜集得来的相关信息判断该地是否值得定居，抑或该国是否值得征服。修道士普拉诺·卡尔比诺受法国教廷派遣前去拜见一代天骄成吉思汗的后人时就曾谈到，鞑靼人过去经常会问他法兰西王国是否牛羊遍野。鞑靼人的询问和西班牙人的实地调查有着同样的目的——都希望了解该国富裕的程度，从而判断是否值得征服。和任何其他游牧国家一样，鞑靼人通常并不清楚货币有何功用，取而代之成为交换媒介和价值尺度的是牛羊。因此，正如西班牙人认为金银的数量决定财富的多少，鞑靼人认为牛群的数量是衡量财富的决定因素。就这两种不同的观念而言，或许鞑靼人的想法更加接近事实。

洛克【1】先生曾评论过货币与其他动产的不同之处。他说，所有其他动产在本质上都容易消耗，因此其内含的价值并不十分可靠。一个国家可能在某一年对某种动产的拥有量十分充足，但即使没有任何出口，这种动产也很有可能仅仅因为国人的浪费或消耗而在下一年成为紧缺物品。与之相反，货币则十分稳定。在流通过程中，货币可能流经多方，但只要不流失到国外，它便不大可能被浪费或消耗。因此，按照洛克先生的说法，一个国家的可流通财富中最为可靠和真实的莫过于金银，那么根据这一点，增加国家对这两种金属的储备在他看来便是一国政治经济学的重要目标。

也有人认为，如果一个国家可以独立于全世界，那么该国国内流通的货币多少也就无关紧要了。使用该货币进行流通只不过是用一种消费品换得数量或多或少的另一种消费品，而在这些人看来，这个国家是真正富有还是贫穷将全然取决于那些可消费物品的多寡。但是另一方面，他们认为，如果一国要与他国建立联系、被迫与他国作战，或者必须维持远在他乡的军舰和军队开销，情况就完全不同了。这时只能向国外大量运送货币，而其前提就是该国国内拥有足量的货币储备。因此，所有这类国家都应该在和平年代竭力积累黄金白银，这样一旦战争爆发，它才能有强大的财力后盾。

由于深受这些通行观念的影响，欧洲各国都曾仔细研究如何通过各种途径在本国最大数量地储备金银，尽管这类研究几乎没有什么实际的收获。欧洲绝大部分金银矿藏位于西班牙和葡萄牙，向全欧输送金银的也主要是这两个国家。但两国或明令禁止金银输出，违者严惩，或课以高额关税。欧洲其他各国自古以来也都将类似禁令视为国策的一部分，甚至最出乎我们意料的，是古代苏格兰的某些议会法案也严厉禁止携带黄金白银出境，违者重罚。古时英法两国也都颁发过类似的法令。

然而，当那些国家成为商业国时，此禁令就会在许多情况下给商人带来诸多不便。无论是买进别国商品还是将本国商品出口到其他国家，金银在交易中都要比其他商品占据极大的优势。于是商人以不利于本国贸易为由，抵制这项禁令。

首先，他们声称以购买外国商品为目的输出金银不一定会减少本国的金银储量，恰恰相反，此举倒有可能增加金银储量。因为如果本国对该商品的消费不因进口而增加，则可以通过将其转售给其他国家获得更多利润，由此所得的金银收益或许要大大高于起初购买这些进口商品的支出。托马斯·孟【2】先生将国际贸易的这一运作方式比作农业中的播种和收割。他说：“如果我们只看到播种时农夫大把大把地将好玉米扔到地里，我们会认为他是个疯子。但是考虑到在他一年忙碌结束后的丰收，我们就会发现他当初的劳作不但应当应分，还能够产生更多的价值。”

商人们抵制该禁令的理由之二，是该禁令根本无法限制金银的输出，与其蕴含的巨大价值相比，金银的体积并不大，偷运到他国实为易事。用这些商人的话说，要想防止偷运走私成风，唯一的做法是适度地关注商人们所谓的“贸易差额”。如果一国的出口额大于进口额，则其他国家需要向其支付一部分贸易差额，这部分差额必然以金银的形式支付，因而该国的金银储量就会相应增加。而当该国贸易进口大于出口时，它就需要向其他国家支付国际贸易差额，因为同样需用金银支付，该国的金银储备就会相应减少。在这种情况下，禁止金银输出不仅不能达到预期效果，反而会因运输的风险增加而导致金银的价格高涨。他们还说，这样一来，整个贸易对于那些应支付贸易差额的国家更加不利；商人在他国交易需要从发行货币的银行那里购买汇票，不但要承担往那里运送货币本身的风险、麻烦和费用，还要承担该禁令带来的额外风险。而贸易越是对一国不利，这部分贸易差额对于应收取该差额的国家而言价值就越小。举英国和荷兰两国的贸易为例，如果英国的进口比出口多了5％，就需要用英国的105盎司白银在荷兰购买相当于100盎司白银的汇票：因而英国的这105盎司白银在荷兰将贬值到100盎司，只能购买价值100盎司的荷兰商品；而荷兰的100盎司白银在英国却升值到105盎司，且能购买价值105盎司的英国商品。英国商品在荷兰出售的价格相对便宜，荷兰商品在英国出售的价格相对昂贵，二者与正常价格的差距正是两国的贸易差额。相应的，英国货物所换回的荷兰货币量相对减少，荷兰货物所换回的英国货币相对增多，其减少和增多的幅度也相当于两国的贸易差额。因此，这种贸易差额必然会对英国造成相应程度的不利，必须将更多的金银运往荷兰，以弥补差额。

以上争论在某种程度上不无道理，在某种程度上也多少有些强词夺理。说其不无道理是，因为他们断言贸易中金银的输出可能往往对国家裨益颇多。同时也是因为，当个体国民发现输出金银能为他们带来好处时，任何禁令都将是一纸空文。谓之强词夺理是因为他们认为，保有或增加金银的数量，相对于保有或增加任何其他有用商品的数量而言，更需要政府关注；因为自由贸易完全能够确保其他商品的适量供应，无需政府给予过多的关心。谓之强词夺理还在于他们断言，兑换中的高价格必然会扩大所谓的贸易逆差，造成更多的金银出口。兑换中的高价格对用本国货币在他国支付的商人来说实为不利，商人们为购买本国银行在那些国家发行的汇票所支付的价格更高，高出的部分正是兑换差价。但是尽管禁令引发的风险可能会为银行引发额外费用，却未必需要将更多的货币输往该国。一般而言，这笔费用是在走私货币时在国内支付的，除了所汇出的实际金额外，私运者不会多输出一文钱。高汇率也自然会使商人努力平衡其出口和进口，以便尽可能少地以高汇率付款。此外，兑换中的高价格必定会起到类似课税的作用，因为它提高了他国商品的价格，减少了这些商品的消费。因此，兑换中的高价格不但不会增加这些商人所谓的贸易逆差，反而会使之缩小，并最终减少了金银的输出。

尽管如此，此番言论却使听者深信不疑。深谙商道的商人提出这些言论说服国家议会、亲王参事和贵族乡绅，暗喜后者对此一无所知。和商人们一样，乡绅贵族仅凭经验即可得知对外贸易可以富国，却对其如何富国的具体原理所知甚少。商人非常清楚对外贸易让他们自身致富的原理，这是他们的本分，至于如何富国却并绝非其分内之事。除了在他们有机会要求国家对有关对外贸易的法律进行一些调整之时，这个问题从来不在他们的考虑范围之内。只有在那时，他们才有必要谈及对外贸易的裨益，以及现行法律如何对这些裨益构成了障碍。在就此事做出决策的法官们听来这可真是再恰当不过的陈述：如对外贸易如何能够源源不断地为本国带来货币收入，而当前讨论的法律形成了障碍；如果没有该法律，对外贸易带来的收入将会更高，等等。论证最终达到了预期效果。在法国和英国，本国的铸币严禁输出，他国铸币和金条银块则可以自由出口。在荷兰和其他的一些地方，甚至本国的铸币也可以自由输出。政府关注的焦点不再是防范金银输出，而是转而关注贸易差额，以此作为可能引发国内金银增加或减少的唯一原因。对于前者的关注本是徒劳，而新的关注焦点看似更为错综复杂，却同样无济于事。《英国得自对外贸易的财富》，托马斯·孟先生这部著作的标题不仅成为英国政治经济学遵循的基本准则，也适用于任何其他商业国家。最重要的是，内陆贸易或国内贸易——在这种贸易中，同样数量的资本可以产生最大的收入，同时也为本国人民创造了最多的就业机会——却沦为国际贸易的附属品。人们认为，国内贸易既不能把货币带入国内，也不能把货币带到国外，国家也不可能因为国内贸易而变得更加富强或贫穷，除非国内贸易的兴旺与否会间接影响到国际贸易的形势。

好比没有葡萄园的人若要饮酒就只能与人交易，没有金银矿藏的国家无疑只能和他国交易获得金银。然而，对于国内和国际贸易，政府也似乎没有必要偏重两者之中的任何一种。一个人只要有购买葡萄酒的钱就能够随时买到葡萄酒，一个国家只要有购买金银的货币也就永远不会缺金少银。金银和其他商品一样，也有自己的价格；既然金银可以用来购买任何商品，任何商品也都可以用来购买金银。我们可以确信，即使没有政府的关注，贸易的自由总能在我们亟需好酒时及时供应好酒；同样我们也要深信，贸易的自由总能为我们提供用于商品流通或其他用途中用于购买或使用的全部金银。

在任何国家，人类劳动所能购买或生产的每一种商品的数量，都可以根据实际需求自我调节，这种需求也可以理解为那些愿意支付生产和出售该商品所需支付的全部地租、劳动力和利润的人的需求。但是没有哪一种商品能像金银这样根据实际需求容易做出准确的自我调节，这是因为金银这两种贵金属有限的体积蕴含了巨大的价值，比其他任何商品都更容易地周转于异地之间——从价格较低的地方周转至价格较高的地方，从金银供给充盈的地方周转至金银不足的地方。例如，如果英国需要一批额外数量的黄金，一艘邮船即可从里斯本或任何供应黄金的地方运来50吨黄金，可铸成500多万几尼【3】。但是如果需要同样价值的谷物，按1吨谷物价值5几尼计算，总共需要运送100万吨，假设每艘邮船的承载量为1000吨，则需要1000艘邮船。如此这般，英国海军全部用来运输都是不够的。

当一国进口金银的数量超出实际需求时，无论政府如何警惕小心，金银的出口都无法避免。西班牙和葡萄牙所有严苛残暴的法律都未能保住其国内的金银储量。西葡两国陆续从秘鲁和巴西进口的金银超出了两国的实际需求，导致两国金银价格低于周边国家。相反，如果任何国家的金银储量不能满足实际需求，从而使其价格高于邻国，政府就无需费心进口金银。即使政府想要费心去禁止进口金银，亦决不会奏效。当斯巴达人有足够的能力购买金银时，无论莱克格斯【4】制定怎样的法典设置障碍都无济于事，自有大量黄金白银源源不断地流入拉塞德蒙【5】。再严苛的关税法都挡不住从荷兰和戈登堡东印度公司进口茶叶，因为这些公司的茶叶比英国公司的便宜。不过另一方面，1磅茶叶的市价通常以白银计算，即使按最高价格，即16先令，这1磅茶叶的体积也相当于这16先令白银体积的100倍；如果用黄金，则相当于等价值的黄金体积的2000倍。走私茶叶的难度相对于走私金银，自然也须按此比例增加。

在某种程度上，正是由于金银比较容易从充足的市场转运到短缺的市场，这两种贵金属的价格不像其他大部分商品的价格那样不断上下波动，许多商品因为体积太大，很难在市场存货过多或过少时做出灵活反应。固然，金银的价格也并非完全稳定，但其可能发生的变动一般来说都是缓慢、渐进、统一的。举例来说，欧洲有些人认为——或许这样想并没有太多根据——在本世纪和上一个世纪，由于人们不断从西属西印度群岛进口金银，这两种贵金属一直在不断贬值，尽管贬值的过程是渐进的。然而要想使金银的价格发生突然变化，从而使得所有其他商品的货币价格立即发生合理而巨大的涨落，则需要像发现美洲所带来的那样的商业革命。

尽管如此，一个有财力购买金银的国家如果在什么时候短缺金银，补足这两种贵金属的供应几乎要比补足其他任何商品都更加方便。如果制造业的原料不足，工业必陷于停顿；如果食物供给不足，人们就要为饥饿所苦；但如果货币不足，易货贸易就可以代替用货币交换商品，只不过可能会有诸多不便。另一种方法是赊账买卖，交易各方每月或每年结算一次，互相补偿赊欠，这种方法就比易货贸易方便一些。如果能够利用一种调控得当的纸币，则不但没有任何不便，在某些情况下还能带来一些裨益。所以无论从哪个方面来说，任何国家的政府都绝对没有必要花费心思去关注货币数量的保有或增加问题。

然而，“货币稀缺”始终是我们最常听到的抱怨。货币和葡萄酒一样，对那些既无财力购买又没有信用赊购的人，永远是紧缺之物，而只要拥有财力或信用二者之一，就很少会在需要的时候感到匮乏。不过对货币稀缺的抱怨并不仅限于没有远虑的挥霍之人，有时整个商业城镇及附近地区会普遍感到货币短缺，过度贸易是造成这一现象的常见原因。即使足够稳重冷静的人，如果不按照当前的资金情况制定营运计划，也可能会像入不敷出的挥霍之人一样，既没有购买货币的资力，也缺乏借贷的信用。在计划完成之前，他们的财力就已经耗光，信用也跟着没有了，这时他们只有四处借贷，而人人都会说没钱借给他们。即使我们到处听到人们说货币短缺，也并不一定就证明国内流动的金银数量比通常减少了，而只表明许多人想要得到金银却无力支付罢了。贸易利润高于通常情况时，无论大小商人都会犯过度贸易的通病。此时他们输往国外的货币不一定比平常多，而是在国内外赊账购买非常大量的商品，并将其运往遥远的市场，期望在付款期限之内收到货款。一旦不能在付款期限之内收到货款，他们会既没有财力购买货币，也没有可靠的借贷担保。如此看来，对货币稀缺的普遍抱怨，根本不是由于金银的稀缺，而是在于债务人难于借贷，债权人又难于收回借款所致。

如果我们在此一针见血地论证财富并不在于金钱或金银的多少，而取决于可以用手中的金钱购买多少商品——也就是说，金钱只有在购买时才有价值，未免过于简单。货币无疑是国家资本的一个组成部分，但我们已经证明，它只是国家资本的一小部分，甚至始终是最无利可图的那一小部分。

商人之所以觉得用货币购买商品要比用商品购买货币更加划算，不是因为货币是财富更为重要的组成部分，而是因为众所周知，货币是已知并确立的交易工具，容易与一切货物交换，而要得到能交换一切货物的货币却未必那么容易。此外，大多数商品要比货币更容易损坏，因此保存这些商品可能经常需要承担大得多的损失。而且，当商人有商品在手上时，他更有可能需要钱进行周转，毕竟什么都不如把已经获得的回报锁在自己的保险箱里来得安全，而最重要的是，卖比买利润来得更直接。因为所有这些原因，商人一般总是更急于出售商品换得货币，而不是用货币来交换商品。不过尽管一个商人在仓库中存有大量存货时，会因为无法及时出售这些存货而最终破产，而一个国家却不大可能有这样的遭遇。商人的全部资本中有易破损的商品和预计用于换取货币的商品，而国家的土地和劳动产品的年产量却只有很少一部分用于和邻国交换获取金银，绝大部分都是在国内流通和消费的；即使在运往国外的剩余产品中，绝大多数通常也是用于交换和购买外国的其他商品。因此，国家即使不能用预计用于购买金银的商品换得足够的金银，也不至于濒临破产。诚然，国家的确会面临一些损失和不便，且可能不得不采取一些必要的权宜之计来替代货币供应，然而其土地和劳动产品的年产量与往常相比没有变化，或者几乎没有变化，因为可以花费同样多或几乎同样多的消费资本来维系这一产量。尽管用商品交换货币没有用货币交换商品那样容易，从长远来看，前者却比后者更加必要。商品除了用于交换货币之外还有许多其他用途，而货币除用于购买商品外别无它用。因此，货币必然要追求商品，而商品却并不一定要追求货币或者根本没有这个必要，购买的人并不一定要转手出售，而常常是为了使用或消费，而出售的人却永远都是为了换取货币再次买入。前者在买入之后往往就完成了整个过程，而后者在卖出货物之后，最多只完成了整个过程的一半。人们渴望货币并不是为了它本身，而是为了可以用货币买来的一切。

有人说可消费品很快会被损坏，而金银的耐久性更强一些，因此如果不是要持续出口，金银可以积累很长时间，这样国家的真正财富就会有极大的增加。所以，一般人就会认为，对一个国家最不利的，就是其主要贸易行为是用耐久性较强的商品去换取比较容易损毁的商品。然而，我们不能想当然地认为，用英国的五金器具去换取法国的葡萄酒就是对英国贸易不利；尽管五金器具是耐久性很强的商品，如果不是因为持续出口，可以在国内积累很长时间，到时整个英国的铁锅就会多得惊人了。不过一般来说，无论在哪个国家，这类五金器具的数量必然受到其需求的限制；如果一个国家所拥有的铁锅数量大于其烹制食物所需，未免有点超乎情理了；如果食物的总量增加了，则铁锅的数量也很容易随之增加，所增加的食物总量中有一部分是用来购买铁锅的，或者说是为多出来的那部分生产铁锅的工人维持生计所需的。同样我们也很容易理解，任何国家的金银数量也应受其需要所限；这些贵金属的用途包括铸成硬币当作流通的货物，以及制成器皿当作家具；每个国家的铸币数量应受到在国内流动的商品价值的调节：一旦该价值增加，就立即会有一部分被输往国外有金银铸币的国家，换得国内流通所需的更多铸币：而金银器皿的数量则要受到国内喜好奢华的家庭数目和财富的支配，这类家庭的财富增加了，很有可能其中一部分要用于向有剩余金银器皿的国家购买：任何国家，为了增加财富就输入或在国内保留超过需求量的金银都是荒谬的，就像家庭也不能依靠购入不必要的厨具来增加其佳肴美酒，这是因为出资购买不必要的厨具不但不会增加，反而会减少家庭必需品的数量和质量；同样，任何国家出资购买不必要的金银，也必定会减少维持国民衣食住行所需的财富。切要牢记：金银，无论其形状是铸币还是盘盏，无非只是用具而已，在这一点上，它们和厨房用具没有区别。如果增加金银的用途，增加靠金银来流通、支配和制造的消费品，自然可以增加金银的数量；但是如果希望通过非常方法增加金银数量，必将减少金银的用途，甚至会减少金银的数量，因为这两种贵金属的数量必然会受到其用途的限制。一旦金银的积累超出了需求，就很容易被转运，而由于闲置不用会造成极大损失，所以任何法律也无法阻止它们被立即输往境外。

一个国家要进行对外战争，维持远在海外的海军和陆军所需，并不一定要积累金银。维持海军和陆军依靠的不是金银，而是可消费商品。因此，只要一国的国内工业年产量，也就是土地、劳动和消费品存量所产生的年收入使它有能力在远离边境的国外购买足够的消费品，它就能够维持在那里打战。

一个国家可以通过三种不同的方式向远在国外的军队运送粮饷和物资：一是若干其所积累的不同的金银；二是若干其制造业年产物；三是若干其农产品年产物。

我们可以合理地认为，任何国家积累或存储的金银都可以分成三部分：一是用于流通的货币；二是家用的金银器皿；最后则是经过多年节俭积累，存在国库中的货币。

国内用于流通的货币很少能够节省下来，因为这方面不可能有太多的盈余。在任何国家，一年之内买卖的商品的价值需要一定数量的货币进行流通并将其分配给不同的消费者，因此货币的使用不能过量。流通渠道必定会吸引来充足的货币量，但不能容纳更多的货币。然而在国家进行对外战争时，一般会从该渠道抽取一定数量的货币。由于大量人口远在境外，在国内维持生计的人口数量相对减少；在国内流通的商品数量减少了，也就不需要那么多货币进行流通了。这时国家通常会大量发行各种纸币，诸如英国的财政部证券、海军债券和银行票据，以此替代流通的金银，以便将更大数量的金银输往境外。不过，对外战争花费浩大，且旷日持久，以上这些财政来源是远不够维持的。

无论在何种情况下，熔化私家金银器皿都于事无补，法国在上一次战争开始使用过这种办法，不过收获并不大，还不够补偿铸造带来的损失，结果得不偿失。

过去，王室积累的财宝曾提供大得多并持续更久的资源；而在今时，除了普鲁士国王之外，积累财宝似乎不再是欧洲王室的政策了。

本世纪各国用于维持对外战争的资金——或许已经创造了人类有史以来战争花费的最高记录——似乎已经很少再依赖流通货币或输出家用金银器皿，抑或国库积累的财物了。在上一次对法战争中，英国的花费超过了9000万英镑，其中不仅包括7500万英镑新募的国债，还包括为每英镑土地税征收的两个先令的附加税，以及每年从还债基金中借用的款项。这笔巨额费用中有2/3花费在遥远的境外国度：德国、葡萄牙、美国、地中海各港口、东印度和西印度群岛。英国的各位国王没有积累财宝，我们未曾听说有超量金银器皿被熔化铸币这样的事情，当时人们认为，国内流通的金银不会超过1800万英镑，然而自最后一次金币改革以来，人们开始觉得他们过低估计了国内的金银流通量。所以，让我们姑且根据我亲眼所见抑或听说过的最夸大的算法，假设当时国内流通的金银共值3000万英镑，假如战争全部用的是英国自己的货币，那么即使根据这样夸张的算法，在六七年的时间内，英国的全部货币必然会全部运出并运回至少两次。如果这种假设成立的话，那么它所能证明的最具决定性意义的观点就是，政府根本没有必要监管货币的保存，因为根据这个假定，国内的所有货币必然要在这么短的时间内在国境内外来回往返两回，且整个过程无人察觉，可见对任何人都没有什么影响。然而事实是，在这段时期内，流通渠道似乎根本没有显得比平时更空虚，那些有财力换取货币的人几乎没有感到货币匮乏。在整个战争期间，尤其是在战争将要结束时，对外贸易的利润比以往更大了，这种情况当然导致了全英国各个地区普遍的过度贸易；而过度扩张营运的结果，和惯常一样，是人们又开始抱怨货币短缺。许多需要货币的人既没有办法购买货币又没有信用借贷；而一旦借贷者感觉到很难借贷，对于放贷者来说，收回欠款也变得困难了。不过拥有能换取金银价值的人，基本上都能够按金银的价值换取金银。

所以，用来支付上一场战争巨额支出的，一定不是国内输出的金银，而是英国出口的这样那样的商品。当政府或代表政府行事的人士与某一个商人签约汇款到国外时，该商人会向与其来往的国外联系人寄送一张期票，而他也一定会尽力以商品而不是金银来支付该期票。如果英国的商品不是该国所需，他将设法将其运往其他国家，购买一张期票，来支付所欠国家的款项。只要是市场所需，商品的运输总是能够产生可观的利润，而金银的运输就很难产生什么利润了。为了购买国外商品而将金银运往国外，商人获取的利润并非来自购买商品，而是来自销售运回国后的商品；但是如果仅仅为了支付债务而将其运往国外，就不会有任何商品运回，商人自然也就得不到任何利润，因此，他自然会绞尽脑汁，用出口商品而非出口金银的办法来偿还国外债务。于是《英国现状》一书的作者指出，在上一次战争期间，英国出口了大量商品，却没有任何商品被运回国内。

除了上述三种金银之外，在所有商业大国中还有大量金条银块交替地输入输出，为对外贸易提供方便。这些金条银块在不同商业国家之间的流通与每一个国家内部的硬币流通方式一样，因而可以被看作是一个由不同国家组成的大商业共和国的货币。国内硬币的流通及其方向受到每个国家境内流通商品的支配：该商业共和国的货币则要受到不同国家之间流通商品的支配。无论在单独一个国家还是这个大型商业共和国，使用货币都是为了促进交换，前者是一个国家内部不同个人之间的交换，后者是不同国家之间的交换。该大型商业共和国的一部分货币可能已经，或者说很可能的确被用于上一次战争的支出了。在全面发生战争时期，人们自然会认为货币的流通及其流通方向因为受到战争的影响而与和平时期不同；认为在战事发生地点附近的流通量应该更大，交战国军队所需的饷给和物资都需要在那里及邻近国家购买。但是就这一大商业共和国的货币来说，无论英国每年需要以这种方式使用多少，它每年都必须用英国商品或其他可用于交换该货币的东西购得；所以归根结底，进行战争所需要的资源仍然是商品，是国内每年的土地和劳动产品。的确，人们很容易联想到，这样巨大的年支出一定需要极大的年产量才能够支付。例如，1761年的支出高达1900多万，任何金银的积累都无法支持每年这样巨大的费用，即便是金银本身，年产量也达不到这样的程度。根据最可靠的统计，每年输往西班牙和葡萄牙的金银总量一般不超过600万英镑，在上一次战争的某些年份，这个数目都不够支付四个月的费用。

最适合运往遥远的境外，在当地购买军队所需的粮饷和物资，或用于购买大商业共和国的一部分货币，进而购买这些粮饷和物资的商品，似乎应该是制造得更加精巧的工业品，如体积小价值高，能以最小的费用输出到千里之外的制造品。因此，如果一个国家每年生产的此类工业品有大量剩余，并将其出口到国外，它就能够将非常昂贵的对外战争持续多年，此时它不需要输出任何可观数量的金银，甚至也没有这样大量的金银可以输出。诚然，每年剩余的制造品中有很大一部分必须在这种情况下输出，而它虽给商人带回利润，却不会给国家带来任何回报，因为政府向商人购买外国期票，以便在外国购买军队所需的饷给和物资。不过，总有一部分剩余制造品的输出是可以产生利润的。在战争期间，对制造业将有双重需求：首先，国家需要生产足够的商品运往境外，支付其为了供应军队饷给和物资而向国外购买的期票；其二，国内通常所需的普通外国商品，也必须由国内生产足够的商品来购买。如此说来，在最具破坏性的对外战争期间，大部分制造业可能会大大繁荣，相反，在和平时期其利润可能会下降。制造业可能在国家走向毁灭的过程中繁荣一时，而一旦国家重新繁荣，制造业就可能衰败下去。英国制造业的许多不同部门在上一次战争期间，乃至战争结束后一段时间的不同景况，正是我们刚刚所得结论的一个例证。

对任何国家来说，出口土地原产品显然无法很好地支持费用浩大而旷日持久的对外战争，将一部分土地原产品输往国外，用它来购买军队所需的饷给和物资，费用太过昂贵。很少有国家生产的原产品远远超过可以维持国民生计所需的量，因此，将大量此类原产品运往国外，无异于夺取国民生活所需的必要生活资料。而工业制造品的出口就是另一回事了。制造业工人的生活资料仍然保留在国内，所输出的仅仅是他们劳动所产生的剩余部分。休谟先生屡次提到，古代英国的国王们无法不间断地为任何旷日持久的战争提供资助：那个年代的英国人没有能力在外国购买其军队所需的饷给和物资，农业原产品没有办法从国内消费中大量节省下来，少量最粗糙的制造品又和农产品一样，运输费用过于昂贵。这种情况并非源于货币短缺，而是因为那时缺乏更加精细的工业制造品。那时的英国和现在一样，买卖都是通过货币进行交易的，当时的货币流通量与买卖的数量和价值之间的比例必然与现在相同，或者比现在更大，因为那时没有纸币，而现在纸币已经在很大程度上替代了金银。在那些对商业和制造业所知甚少的国家，一旦遇到非常事件，君主很少能够从国民那里获得大的帮助，具体原因我将在下文中说明。因此，正是在这类国家，君主通常会竭力积聚财富，因为那是应对紧急事件的唯一资金来源，即使没有这种必要，在当时那种条件下，君主也会自然地倾向于为累积财富而躬行节俭。在那样一种简朴的状态下，即便君主的花费也不受喜好宫廷豪华生活的虚荣心支配，而是用于赏赐佃户、款待家臣；虽然虚荣心几乎总是导致浪费，但赏赐和款待却很少如此。因此，每一个鞑靼酋长都有财宝。据说，查理十二世著名的同盟——乌克兰哥萨克酋长马捷帕就拥有大量财宝，梅罗文加王朝的法兰西国王也个个都有财宝，如果他们将王国分封给不同的子嗣，也会分给他们相应的财宝。撒克逊君王以及征服之后的最初几个国王，似乎也一样聚集过财宝。每一个新王朝所做的第一件事，通常都是夺取前一个国王的财宝，那是保有王位的最有效手段。先进的商业国家的君主却不再有必要积累财宝，因为他们一般都可以在非常时期从臣民那里获得很大帮助，他们也不再倾向于这样做。他们自然地，或许也是必然地，追随所处时代的流行趋势，在花费方面，君主和领土内所有其他大业主一样，受到追求奢华的虚荣心的支配。宫廷中精致到极细微处的华丽奢靡与日俱增，其巨额花费不仅让财富的积累不再可行，甚至往往会侵及原本用于更为必要之用途的资金。德西利达斯对波斯宫廷的评价或许同样适合好几个欧洲君主的宫廷，他说他在那里感受到的更多是奢华而不是力量，看到的更多是奴仆而不是战士。

金银的输入绝不是国家从对外贸易中获取的主要利益，更不是对外贸易的唯一利益。无论对外贸易在哪两个地区间进行，国家都可以从中获得两种不同的利益：它将其土地和劳动力所生产产品的剩余部分，即国内不再需要的部分输出，作为交换，带回国内需要的其他东西。对外贸易使得剩余产品获得了价值，可以用来换取其他东西，从而满足国内的一部分需求，增加享受。有了对外贸易，国内市场的有限性就难以阻碍任何工艺或制造业部门的劳动分工极其完善的发展。这样就为劳动产品中超出国内消费的那一部分拓展了新的市场，从而鼓励劳动者提高生产力，最大限度地增加年产量，也进而增加了全社会的实际收入和财富。对于彼此间进行对外贸易的所有不同国家，对外贸易都在持续不断地起到极其显著而重要的作用。所有国家都从对外贸易中大大受益，不过商人所在的国家获得的利益最大，因为一般来说，商人总是更加关注供应他人之所需，并将他所在国家的剩余产品运出境外。将金银输入那些因为没有矿藏而缺乏这些贵金属的国家无疑是对外贸易业务的一个组成部分，但它只是最微不足道的一部分：如果一个国家只因为这样一个原因而开展对外贸易，恐怕一个世纪也很难有机会装满一船金银。

美洲的发现之所以让欧洲走向富裕，也并非源于金银的进口。因为美洲富藏金银矿，这两样贵金属的价格反而降低了，与15世纪相比，如今购买金银器皿所需的谷物，或者劳动，大概只有那时的1/3，也就是说，以同样的劳动和商品支出，欧洲每年可以购买的金银器皿的数量是那时的3倍。但是如果某一商品的售价仅相当于通常售价的1/3，则不但原先的买主现在购买的数量可以达到先前的3倍，而且由于价格下降，可以出价购买的买主数量也较先前多出许多，或许买主数量增加至先前的10倍多，甚至高达20倍以上。因此，欧洲现有的金银器皿数量，不仅要比美洲金银矿没有发现之时——即使在其现有的进步状态下——多出3倍，或许更是前者的20—30多倍，直到目前为止，欧洲无疑得到了真正的便利，尽管那的确只是非常微不足道的便利。金银的价格下降导致这两种金属不如先前那样适合用作货币了：为了进行同样的购买活动，我们必须携带更大量的金银，对于以往价值4便士就能购得的物品，如今我们得在口袋里装1个先令。要说这种不便可以忽略不计，上述与之相对的便利怕也不比它重要多少，两者都不会对欧洲目前的状况造成任何重大的影响。然而，美洲的发现的确对欧洲产生了极为重大的影响。它为欧洲所有商品开辟了一个全新而永不枯竭的市场，它为新的劳动分工和工艺改进创造了机会，而在古代商业的狭窄范围内，由于大部分产品缺乏市场，这是绝对不可能发生的。劳动者的生产力提高了，欧洲所有国家的劳动产品增加了，各国国民的真实收入和财富也就随之增加。欧洲的商品对于美洲来说几乎是前所未有的，同样，美洲的许多商品对于欧洲来说也是新鲜事物。因此，一系列之前从未有人预见过的交换开始了。事实证明，这既然一定会对旧大陆有利，也自然会对新大陆同样有利。当然，欧洲人颇为野蛮的不公行径使得一桩本来对所有方都有利的事件，变成了几个不幸国家的灭顶之灾。

大约同时，欧洲人发现了经由好望角前往东印度的道路，尽管其距离比美洲更加遥远，却为欧洲人或许打开了比美洲更为广阔的对外贸易市场，整个美洲只有两个国家在各个方面比蛮荒之地稍强一些，这两个国家在美洲发现不久就被消灭了，其他的都不过是蛮荒之地。而中国、印度、日本等帝国以及东印度的其他几个国家即使金银矿藏不如美洲富足，却在其他所有方面都要比墨西哥或秘鲁更加富裕，农业耕种水平更高，所有工艺和制造业也都更加先进。就算这样说无异于相信了西班牙作家们关于那些帝国往昔状况的夸大记载，我们也必须承认这些事实，而那些记载显然是不足置信的。不过，富裕文明的国家彼此之间进行交易，其价值要远远大于与未开化的野蛮人做交易，而截止到此时，欧洲与东印度各个帝国商业往来获得的利益却大大低于与美洲经商获得的利益。葡萄牙垄断东印度贸易约一个世纪之久，其他欧洲国家从东印度购入任何商品，或将任何商品输入该国，都只能间接通过葡萄牙人之手。上世纪初荷兰人开始侵入这片商业领地时，将整个东印度公司的商务全部交由一家公司独家经营。英国人、法国人、瑞典人和丹麦人都纷纷效法，此时，没有一个欧洲大国能够享受到对东印度进行自由商业贸易的利益。仅此一个原因就能够解释，为什么对东印度的贸易根本没有对美洲贸易那样有利，美洲贸易，即欧洲几乎每一个国家与其殖民地之间的贸易，对其所有臣民都是自由开放的。而那些东印度公司的专营特权和巨大财富，以及从各自的政府那里获取的惠益和保护，招来了不少嫉妒。这种嫉妒心理往往使人们觉得其贸易是完全有害的，因为它们每年需要从其进行贸易的国家输出大量白银。有关方面回答说，这种持续的白银输出的确有可能导致整个欧洲陷于贫困，但从事贸易的具体国家却不受此影响；因为通过将一部分用白银购回的商品输出到欧洲的其他国家，它实际获得的白银数量远比输出的多得多。反对者和辩驳者所持观点的依据都是我刚刚讨论过的普遍观点，因此我也没有必要就此多做论述。因为每年向东印度输出白银，欧洲的金银器皿价格很可能比以往更贵一些；而银币所能购买的劳动力和商品或许也比以往更多。在这两种影响中，前者不是什么大损失，后者也并非巨大收益，二者都微不足道，因而没有引发公众的广泛关注。与东印度的贸易为欧洲商品打开了一个新的市场，或者换一种说法，为那些商品所能购买的金银开辟了一个新市场，因而必然增加欧洲商品的年产量，从而增加欧洲的实际财富和收入总额。至于到目前为止所增加的数量甚少，则或许要归咎于那种贸易处处受到限制。

在这里，我觉得有必要详细考察一下关于财富的多少主要取决于金钱或者金银数量的大小这一通行概念，尽管这未免显得冗长繁琐。如我在上文所述，在一般人的概念中，金钱总是财富的象征，这种表达上的模棱两可使得此概念深入人心，以至于那些已经确信其荒谬无稽的人也常常会忘记自己的原则，在推理的过程中想当然将其作为一条确定无疑、不可否认的真理。英国商业界有几个数一数二的作家往往会在他们的文章开头论述道，一个国家的财富多少不仅在于所拥有的金银的数量，也在于拥有土地、房屋和各种可消费商品的数量。然而在推理过程中，他们似乎将土地、房屋和可消费商品统统抛到脑后，论证的核心往往变成了所有财富即在于金银，增加这两种贵金属的数量乃是国家工商业的最重要目标。

但是如果这两个原则都成立，即财富的多少取决于金银的数量，且缺乏这两种贵金属矿藏的国家只能通过贸易差额，或者说使出口大大多于进口来收入金银，那么政治经济学的目的必然变成了尽可能减少进口外国商品用于本国消费，并尽可能增加本土工业品的出口，因而国家致富的两大手段就变成了限制进口和鼓励出口。

对进口的限制包括两种。

首先，凡能够由本土生产的国内消费品，无论从什么国家进口，都一律加以限制。

其次，如果本国与某些国家的贸易差额对本国不利，则对那些国家几乎所有商品的进口加以限制。

限制的方式也各有不同，有时采用高关税，有时则采用绝对禁止的办法。

而鼓励出口的办法，有时是退税，有时是政府奖励，有时是与外国签订有利的通商条约，有时是在遥远的境外建立殖民地。

退税的情形一般有两种：对于已缴纳关税或国产税的国产商品，在出口时往往会返还全部或部分税款；而对于已征收进口税的外国商品，如果进口目的是为了加工后出口，有时会在出口时返还全部或部分进口税。

政府奖励要么是为了鼓励某些新兴制造业，要么是为了奖励政府认为应给予特殊照顾的某些工业。

通过建立有利的通商条约，本国的货物和商人可以在某一境外国家获得别国货物和商人所没有的特权。

而通过在遥远的境外建立殖民地，宗主国的货物和商人不仅可以获得特权，而且还可以获得垄断地位。

上述两种对进口的限制，连同四种鼓励出口的做法，乃是商业主义所倡导的各国扭转贸易逆差，使之对己有利，从而增加金银数量的六种主要手段。我将在以下各章分别对其进行论述，关于这六种手段能够给国内带来金钱的说法，我就不再关注了，而重点考察它们各自可能对国内工业年产量产生何种影响。如果这些手段能够提高或降低国内工业年产量的话，也必然能够增加或降低国家的实际财富和收入。

注释

【1】　即John Locke。——译者注

【2】　即Thomas Mun。——译者注

【3】　英国在1663到1813年间发行的金币，价值相当于1镑1先令。——译者注

【4】　古斯巴达法典的制定者。——译者注

【5】　即斯巴达。——译者注

4
对于商品进口实施的限制

通过征收高关税或绝对禁止的方式，限制可以由本国生产的商品从外国进口，在一定程度上保证了生产这些商品的国内工业对于国内市场的垄断。因此，禁止从外国进口活牲畜和腌制食品，确保了英国畜牧业者对国内肉类市场的垄断；对谷物进口课以高关税，也让英国的谷物种植者得到了相同的利益，因为在谷物丰收的年份里高额关税相当于禁止进口。禁止进口外国羊毛制品，同样对国内羊毛制品生产商有利；英国的丝绸制造商曾经完全依靠外国原材料，但最近它们也开始得到同样的好处；麻织品制造商尚未得到什么好处，不过他们正在大踏步地朝着这一方向迈进。英国的许多其他产业制造商也以同样的方式获得了针对国人的全部或几乎全部垄断权。英国绝对或在某种条件下限制进口的商品种类之多，对于不十分熟悉关税法律的人来说，已经大大超出了他们的想象。

这种对国内市场的垄断总是能够给予享受垄断的行业很大的鼓励，因此往往能够使得更大份额的劳动力和社会资源转向该行业，这是毋庸置疑的。但是它是否能够增加整个社会的财富，或者使之朝着最有利的方向发展，或许就算不得什么不证自明的真理了。

社会全部产业的总和绝不会超过社会总资本所能维持的限度；正如任何个人所能雇用的工人数量必须与他所拥有的资本保持一定比例，整个社会所有成员持续雇用的工人数量也必须与该社会的资本总量保持一定比例，并绝不能超过该比例。任何商业调控都不可违反这一常识，增加社会产业的总量，使之超出其资本所能维持的限度。商业调控只能改变其中部分产业的导向；至于这种人为的方向调整是否就要比产业根据自身条件自然发展更为有利，则纯属不确定因素。

每个人都会持续不断地竭力为自己所拥有的资本找到最合适的用途；诚然，在这样做的时候，他考虑的是自己的利益而不是整个社会的利益，但他在仔细考察自己的利益之后，自然，或者说必然会倾向于选择那些最有利于社会的用途。

首先，只要资本获利的程度与一般水平持平，或者至少不太低于一般水平，所有个人都倾向于在距离自己最近的地方使用自己的资本，这样的结果是，他会尽可能地将自己的所有资本都用于维持国内产业。

因此，在利润相等或接近相等的情况下，每一个批发商自然宁愿经营消费品国内贸易也不愿经营对外贸易，宁愿经营消费品对外贸易也不愿意经营转口贸易。与对外贸易相比，经营国内贸易时，资本总是在他的可控范围之内。他能够更好地了解所信托之人的品行和境况，万一不小心被骗，他也更熟悉国内的法律，知道如何从中获得补偿。在转口贸易中，商人的资本可以说是被分割在两个境外国家，而这两部分资本都不一定会回到国内，也就是回到他可以监管和支配的范围之内。譬如，一个阿姆斯特丹商人将俄国哥尼斯堡的玉米运往里斯本，将里斯本的水果和葡萄酒运往哥尼斯堡，一般来说，他必须有一半的资本投在哥尼斯堡，另一半投在里斯本，两部分资本似乎都没有必要回到阿姆斯特丹。这样一个商人自然应该住在哥尼斯堡或里斯本，只有在非常特殊的情况下，他才会选择居住在阿姆斯特丹。不过，因为距离自己的资本太远使商人深感不安，他们一般都会从原定运往里斯本市场的哥尼斯堡货物和原定运往哥尼斯堡的里斯本货物中，分出一部分运往阿姆斯特丹；尽管这必然会带来装载和卸载的双重费用，且需要支付一些税金和关税，但为了让一部分资本始终处于自己的监控和管理之下，他们愿意支付这部分额外费用；正因为如此，每个从事大量转口贸易的国家最后都会成为一个大型综合市场，那里交易着来自转口贸易相关各国的货物。为了避免二次装载和卸载，商人总是想方设法尽可能多地在本国市场上出售来自所有国家的货物，也就是尽其所能地将转口贸易转化为消费品的对外贸易。同样，从事消费品对外贸易的商人，在收集货物运往国外市场时，在利润相等或接近相等的情况下，也总是更愿意尽可能地将大部分货物在国内出售。为了规避出口的风险和麻烦，他总是尽其所能地将消费品的对外贸易转化为国内贸易。于是，如果我可以这样说的话，本国总是成为每个国家的居民不断流通其资本的中心，各国居民总是更愿意让资本流向国内，只是由于特殊原因资本才会远离该中心，在较远处付诸使用。不过事实不断证明，相对于消费品对外贸易中使用的同等数量的资本，国内贸易中使用的资本总是能够启动更多的国内产业，增加国内更多居民的收入和就业机会；而用于消费品对外贸易的资本，与用于转口贸易的等量资本相比，也有同样的裨益。因此，在利润相等或接近相等的前提下，个人正确使用资本，自然会给予国内产业最大的支持，并使自己国家的最大多数人口在收入和就业方面获利。

其次，任何人只要利用自己的资本支持国内产业，就必然会竭尽全力，力求使该产业的产量达到最大值。

产业的产量是指它为产业主体或劳动中所使用的原材料增加的价值。随着产业产量价值的增加或减少，雇主所得的利润也会按比例增减。然而，任何人利用自己的资本支持产业都只是为了赚取利润；因此，他必然会竭尽全力利用自己的资本支持那些能够产生最大价值的产业，或者用它换取最大数量的货币或其他商品。

但是任何社会的年收入总是与其产业的年总产量的可交换价值绝对相等，也就是说，年收入与年总产量的可交换价值完全是同一回事。由此看来，既然所有个人都会尽可能地利用自己的资本支持国内产业，并竭尽全力使该产业产生最大价值，所有个人也必然会尽可能地利用劳动为社会创造最大收入。当然，他既不是在为公众谋福利，也全然不知自己为公众贡献了多少福利。他宁可支持国内产业也不愿支持对外贸易，因而我们说他只关心自己的安全；他全力引导产业，使其产量达到最大价值，我们说他只是为自己赚取利润，在种种情形下，他都是由一只看不见的手引导着，不由自主地去达到并非出于本意希望达到的目的；当然，并非出于本意而达到目的，对社会来说不一定就有害。在为自己谋福利的过程中，他往往能够比出于本意更有效地促进整个社会的福利。我没有听说过有哪些假装以为公众谋福利为名义做生意的人真正为社会做出过什么大的贡献。当然，这种刻意作秀的做法在商人中并不常见，也用不着多费唇舌去劝阻他们这样做。

至于应该将自己的资本用在国内哪些产业中，以及哪些产业有可能获得最大价值，显然，任何个人都能够在其自身的具体条件下做出判断，且比任何政治家或立法者所能提供的建议都更显合理。如果有哪一个政治家希望知道个人应该如何使用自己的资本，那不但是全无必要地自寻烦恼，而且是在攫取一种权力，社会在任何时候都不会放心地给予任何个人或任何形式的委员会或参议会这种权力，让一个虚伪荒唐、自以为能够担此大任的人拥有这种权力则是再危险不过的了。

让国内产业中任何特定的工艺或制造业产品垄断国内市场，在某种程度上无异于指导个体国民应该如何使用他们的资本，几乎在任何情况下，这都是一种毫无用处或颇为有害的调控。如果国内产品的价格能够像外国产品一样便宜，这样的调控显然没有用处；如果不能，那么一般来说，这种调控必然是有害的。任何一个明智的一家之主，都应该坚持这样一个原则，即如果自行制作的成本高于从别处购买，就绝不选择前者。裁缝不会尝试自己做鞋，而是从鞋匠那里买鞋；同样，鞋匠也不会尝试自己做衣服，而是请裁缝帮着做；农夫既不做鞋也不做衣服，就花钱请手艺人来做。从以上种种例子可以看出，所有人都知道，将所有精力投注在自己比他人更有优势的领域，并用其部分产品去购买，或者换句话说，用其产品的部分价格去购买他们偶尔需要的东西，这种做法符合个人的最大利益。

如果某种行为对于一个家庭来讲是审慎明智的，那么对于一个大国来说，它也错不到哪里去。如果某一外国可以提供我们某一种商品，其价格要比我们自己生产更加便宜，那么更明智的做法显然是用我们自己的部分产品来购买，因为我们在生产后一种产品的产业中具有某种优势。国家的劳动总量既然一定和维持它所用的资本成正比，就不会因此而减少，正如上文提到的各类手工制造业者的劳动不会减少一样；人们只会因此而找到能够产生更大价值的使用资本的方法。因而我们说，使用资本来生产一种物品，生产的成本却高于购买的价格，则资本必然不能够产生最大价值。如果投入劳动力去生产那些显然不能产生更多价值的商品，则一定会或多或少地减损一个国家年产物的总价值。根据这一假设，从外国购买商品要比在本国制造更加便宜。这样，如果按照其自然发展方向的话，使用以同样的资本在本国产业中所生产商品的一部分，或者换句话说，用这些在本国产业中所生产商品价格的一部分，即可以购买到外国商品。所以，上述调控的结果是，将国家的劳动从较为有利的用途转为较为不利的用途，其年产量的可交换价值不但没有像立法者原先设想的那样有所增加，反而因为有了此等调控而有所减少。

诚然，有了此类调控，某一特定的制造业可能要比没有调控时更快地确立起来，且经过一段时间之后，特定商品在国内的生产成本也将不再高于国外的生产成本。然而尽管社会中某一产业可以因为获利而更加快速地进入某一特定轨道，但无论是劳动还是收入总额，都绝不会因为有了此类调控而增加。社会中劳动的增加必须与资本的增加成正比，而其资本的增加必须取决于社会收入中逐渐节省出来的那一部分。但是每一个此类调控的直接后果都是减少社会收入，而凡是减少收入的措施，自然不会迅速增加社会的资本，无论是社会的资本还是劳动都只能在自然状态下才能够很快增加。

虽然某种特定的制造业因为缺少这样的调控无法在社会上确立起来，但社会在其发展的任何一段时间内并不会因这一原因变得贫穷。在其发展的每一个时期，社会的总资本和劳动的使用或许仍然是当时最有利的，只是在不同的时期，社会发展的目标不尽相同。在每一个特定时期，社会收入可能都是其资本所能支持的最大收入，资本和收入的增长速度也是该社会当时所能够达到的最大速度。

一个国家在生产特定商品方面相对于其他国家的自然优势有时非常突出，全世界都承认无法与之竞争。通过嵌玻璃、设温床、建温壁，苏格兰也能栽种极好的葡萄，并用来生产上等的葡萄酒，只是与从其他国家购买的品质不逊的葡萄酒相比，其制作费用差不多高达30倍。如此说来，如果单单为了鼓励苏格兰制造波尔多和勃艮第葡萄酒而发布禁令，禁止进口一切外国葡萄酒，这种做法难道合理吗？但是如果人人都能看出，在需要特定数量的某种商品时，使用比从外国进口高出30倍的本国资本和劳动来生产的做法无比荒谬，那么即使所使用的资本和劳动只不过高出了1/30，甚或3％，也是一样的不合情理，只不过没有那么荒唐可笑就是了。一个国家在这方面的优势究竟是天然的还是后来拥有的，无关紧要；只要它有那些优势，而另一个国家又缺乏优势，则就后一个国家来说，从前者购买就要比自己生产更具优势。一个手工业制造者对于从事另一个行业的人而言，其优势只能是后天获得的；然而他们两人都会发现，从彼此那里购买要比制造不属于自己行业的产品更为有利。

商人和制造业者是这种国内市场垄断中最大的获利者。禁止从外国进口牲畜或腌制品，加之以对外国谷物征收较高关税——在一般的丰年这就相当于禁止——为英国畜牧业者和农场主带来的利益，远远低于英国商人和制造业者因其他此类禁令所得的利益。制造业者，特别是较精细产品的制造业者，其产品在各国之间的运输要比谷物或牛羊更加容易。因此，对外贸易的主要业务是做制造品贸易。在制造业，很小的利益就能够让外国人倾销自己工人的产品，即使在国内市场上也是如此；而对于土地的原产品来说，这样做的成本就很高，需要有很大利益才有人肯做。如果允许外国制造品自由输入，就会有好几家国内制造业者受到重创，甚至或许还有一些会倒闭，而这时该制造业使用的很大一部分资本和劳动就不得不重新寻找新的用途。但是即使国家允许土地原产品完全自由输入，也不会对国内的农业产生这样巨大的影响。

举例来说，即使对外国牲畜的进口完全开放，进口的数目也非常少，英国的畜牧业不会受到多大影响。活牲畜或许是唯一一种海运比陆地运输更加昂贵的商品了；因为牲畜能够行走，使用陆地运输的话，它们自己就能走向目标市场；而海运不但要运送它们自身，还要运送它们需要的粮食和水，费用昂贵，且无比麻烦。爱尔兰和英国之间的海程距离很短，的确使得爱尔兰牲畜的运输容易一些，最近只在一段时间内对牲畜进口实施了开放政策，然而即使永久放开进口牲畜，对于英国畜牧业者的利益也不会产生太大影响。英国靠近爱尔兰海的部分全都是畜牧养殖的乡村。进口的爱尔兰牲畜绝不会为那里的人们所用，必然是要经过那里转运到很远的地方，要经过很大一番周折才能到达适当的市场，费用不低，且麻烦不小。肥牲畜无法走这么远的路途，因而就只能进口瘦牲畜，这不会损害到那些从事牲畜养殖或育肥的乡村的利益，而只能损害到从事牲畜繁殖的地方的利益，因为对于前者而言，瘦牲畜的价格下降，事实上对他们是有利的。自从允许进口爱尔兰牲畜以来，从爱尔兰进口牲畜数量不大，瘦牲畜的价格一直卖得不错，这样看起来，似乎连英国那些繁殖牲畜的地方也不会因为进口放开而受到太大影响。据说爱尔兰的普通民众经常诉诸暴力反对出口牲畜，然而如果出口商看到继续该贸易有任何大的好处，而法律又在他们一边的话，他们完全可以轻易战胜这种民众的反对。

除此之外，从事牲畜繁殖和育肥的地方必定都是土地经过大大改良的地方，而繁殖牲畜的地方一般都是未经开垦的荒地。瘦牲畜价格高，加上未经开垦荒地的价值，这无异于一项重奖，鼓励人们不要开荒改良。因为在任何整个土地经过高度改良的地方，进口瘦牲畜都要比自己繁殖更加有利；据说现在荷兰就信奉此理。的确，苏格兰、威尔士和诺森伯兰郡的山区都是无法进行土地高度改良的地方，似乎自然条件注定了这些地方只能是英国境内繁殖牲畜的地方。完全开放进口外国牲畜的唯一结果就是，使那些繁殖牲畜的地方无法从牲畜数量增加和国内其他地方的土地改良中获益，无法无休止地提高繁殖牲畜的价格，要知道如果可以随意提高繁殖牲畜的价格，实际上就相当于给国内致力于开垦和改良的地方加收了一道税。

同样，如果说进口活牲畜对于英国畜牧业者的影响尚且有限，那么完全放开进口腌制品对于英国畜牧业者利益的影响更是微乎其微。腌制品也是体积很大的商品，而且这种商品不但品质不如新鲜畜肉，且因为其中所含的劳动较多、成本较高，价格也更高，因此，根本无法与新鲜畜肉竞争，不过倒是可以和本国的腌制品竞争。腌制品可以用于为远航的船只供应食物等用途，不过决不可能成为人们食物供应中举足轻重的一部分。自从准许腌制品自由进口以来，从爱尔兰进口的腌制品数量很少，这证实了我们畜牧业者丝毫不用担心该产品的进口。屠夫出售的生肉价格似乎根本不会因为腌制品进口而受到任何显著的影响。

即使是完全自由进口外国谷物对于英国农场主利益的影响也可以忽略不计。谷物的体积可要比屠夫卖的生肉大多了，用一个便士购买的一磅小麦在重量上相当于用四个便士购买的一磅生肉。即使在国内谷物最匮乏的年景，从外国进口的谷物数量仍然很少，这完全可以消除我国的农场主对于自由进口的恐惧感。根据见闻广博的谷物贸易研究者的论文，每年从国外进口谷物的平均数量不过只有23728夸特，不到我国年消费总量的1/571。不过由于谷物出口奖励使得丰年的出口量超过了实际耕种所允许的数量，必然导致在谷物歉收之年的进口量也超过实际耕种所需要的数量。这样一来，某一年的丰收不能够补偿另一年的歉收，而出口的平均数量必然会因为这种奖励而增加，因而进口的平均数量也必然会相应增加，超过实际耕种所需。如果不对谷物出口进行奖励，谷物的出口量会随之减少，那么按年份平均，谷物的进口量也会少于当前的水平了。谷物商人，那些在英国和境外各国之间贩运谷物的人因为业务量大大减少，可能会受到很大损失，但是国内的乡绅和农场主却不会受到什么影响。因此据我观察，最希望奖励制度持续下去的人不是乡绅和农场主，而是谷物商人。

乡绅和农场主算得上是最没有卑劣的独占心理的人，这是他们无上的光荣。一个大型制造工厂的经营者有时会因为附近20英里内新建了一所同样类型的工厂而警觉起来，在阿比维尔经营羊毛制造业的荷兰人规定，该城市周围方圆30里格【1】内不得兴建另一家同类制造厂。农场主和乡绅则相反，他们一般都倾向于鼓励而不是阻挠邻人开垦和改良农场和土地。他们没有大多数制造业者拥有的所谓商业秘密，一般都更愿意与邻人交流心得体会，希望自己刚刚发现的，能够带来裨益的最新做法传播得越远越好。老伽图就说过，“这是最受人尊敬的职业，从事这种职业的人，生活最为稳定，最不为人嫉恨，他们也最没有怨气。”乡绅和农场主们零星分布在国内各地，不像商人和制造业者那样容易合并，后者因为聚集在城镇中，习惯了那种普遍的排他性企业思维，自然都会在获得各自城镇居民所没有的专营权之后，竭力设法获得所有国人中唯一的专营权。这样看来，他们似乎是禁止外国商品进口的始作俑者，为的就是确保自身对国内市场的垄断。或许是为了模仿这些人，或许因为发现这些人企图压迫自己而要获得和这些人平起平坐的权利，英国的乡绅和农场主们忘记了自己原本应有的宽大之心，反而要求获得向国民供应谷物和生肉的独有特权。他们或许根本没有花时间认真思考一下，与那些他们奉为楷模的人相比，自由贸易对他们的影响实在是微乎其微。

要颁布一项永久的法律禁止进口外国谷物和牲畜，事实上就相当于规定：国内的人口和工业在任何时候都不能超过其土地原产品所能供养的限度。

然而，在以下两种情况下，通过对国外产业征收税负来鼓励国内产业看来是有利的。

首先，某些特定产业是为国防所需。例如，英国的国防在很大程度上取决于海员和船只的多少。因此，英国的航海法案试图确保英国的海员和船只在国内航海业的垄断地位是非常正确的，具体做法有时是绝对禁止，而有时是对外国的船只征收很高的税负。以下是该法案的几条主要的规定。

一、凡与英国居留地和殖民地通商或在英国沿海经商的船只，其船主及3/4船员必须为英国籍臣民，违者没收船舶及其所载的货物。

二、各种体积极大的进口商品，只能由上述船只或所购商品出产国的船只（其船主、船长及3/4船员为该国籍公民）输入英国；但由后一类船只输入的商品，必须加倍征收关税；若由其他国家的船只输入，则处以没收船只及其所载货物的惩罚。此法案颁布之时，荷兰人是欧洲海运业的巨头，到现在仍是欧洲海运业的巨头；但该法案颁布之后，他们再也不能以海运输送者的身份，将本国货物或欧洲其他各国的货物输入英国海域了。

三、各种体积极大的进口商品，只许由出产国的船只输入，连使用英国船只运送也在被禁止之列，违者没收船只及其所载货物。这项规定很可能也是专门针对荷兰人制定的。那时的荷兰和现在一样，是所有欧洲商品进行交易的大市场，有了这个条例，英国船只就不能在荷兰国内起运欧洲其他各国的货物了。

四、各种腌制咸鱼、鲸须、鲸鳍、鲸油和鲸脂，非由英国船只捕获并加工处理者，在输入英国时，须加倍征收关税。那时欧洲以捕鱼为业并供给他国的只有荷兰人，即使现在也仍然主要是荷兰人。该法案颁布之后，荷兰人向英国供给这类海产品就须缴纳极重的关税了。

航海法案制定之时，英、荷两国虽然实际上没有交战，然而两国之间的仇恨却已达到极点。这种仇恨在制定该法律的长期议会统治时期已经开始，不久以后，终于在护国公（即克伦威尔王朝）和查理二世王朝期间的荷兰战争中来了一次大爆发。所以，说这个著名法案中的几项条例是从民族仇恨出发的，也不是完全不可能；不过这些条例本身非常明智，很像是深思熟虑的结果。当时存在于两国间的民族仇恨，其目标与经过最明智的决策之后制定的目标别无二致，那就是削弱荷兰的海军力量，那是唯一可能危害英国安全的海上力量。

航海法案不利于对外贸易，或者说遏制了对外贸易带来的财富增长。一国在对外国的通商关系中所获得的利益，与个别商人在与他人做生意时一样，都力求最大程度地贱买贵卖。而完全自由贸易鼓励一切国家购买和输入所需要的商品，在这种情况下国家最有可能贱买；也是出于同一原因，由于大量买者麇集于该国市场，商品的售价可以尽量提高，因而也最有可能贵卖。诚然，航海法案对于前来输出英国产品的外国船只并没有课税；甚至之前原本需要对所有出口和进口商品征收关税，而航海法案之后颁布的好几个法案，则规定对大部分出口商品减免这部分关税。但是如果外国人因禁令或高关税的原因而不能来我国售卖，他们也不能来我国购买；因为如果空船来我国装货，单是从其本国来到我国的船费就是一笔损失。所以减少售卖者人数，必然也会减少购买者人数；这样，与贸易完全自由之时相比，我们可能在购买外国货物时付价更高，而在售卖本国货物时出价更低。但是，由于国防比国富重要得多，所以在英国所有通商条例中，航海法案或许是最明智的一项法案。

第二种通过对外国产业征收若干税负来鼓励国内产业，总体而言又能对国内有利的情况，是在国内对该产业的产品课税的时候。在这种情况下，对外国的同类产品课以同额的赋税，似乎也合情合理。这种方法不会造成国内该产业对于国内市场的垄断，也不会使流入某一特殊用途的资本与劳动大于其自然流动的情况。课税的唯一结果，不过是阻止了本来应流入该用途的任何一部分资本与劳动流入非自然的用途，而在课税之后，本国产业与外国产业仍然能在与课税前大致相同的条件下互相竞争。在英国，国内产业的产品被课以此等税负时，通常会同时对同类外国商品的进口课以高得多的关税，免得国内商人和制造业者吵吵嚷嚷地埋怨说，这些商品要在国内贱卖了。

有人认为，对于自由贸易的这第二种限制，在某些情况下，不应仅限于输入本国而与本国课税商品相竞争的那些外国商品，应该扩大并适用于许多外国商品。他们声称，如果在国内对生活必需品课税，那么不仅对从外国输入的同类生活必需品课税是正当的，对输入国内、与国内任何产业的产品竞争的各种外国商品课税也都是正当的。他们声称，这样课税必然会抬高生活必需品的价格；而随着劳动者生活品价格的提高，劳动价格也必定跟着提高。所以，本国产业所生产的各种商品虽然没有被直接课税，但其价格都将因此种课税而提高，因为生产这些商品的劳动的价格上升了。所以，他们说，这样虽然表面看来只对生活必需品课税，实际上却相当于对国内一切产业的一切商品课税。因此他们认为，为使国内产业与国外产业处于同等地位，有必要对输入本国而与本国任何商品竞争的任何外国商品加收税负，其额度应该相当于本国商品价格提高的额度。

生活必需品税，如英国的肥皂税、盐税、皮革税、蜡烛税等，是否必然提高劳动价格，从而提高一切其他商品的价格，我将在后面考察赋税时详细阐述。但是另一方面，假设这种赋税有此后果（它的确有此后果），则一切商品价格由于劳动价格上涨而普遍上涨的情况，在以下两个方面与特定商品由于直接课有特种税负而涨价的情况有所不同。

第一，关于特种税负能够使该特定商品的价格提高到什么程度，总可以作出很准确的判断；但劳动价格的普遍提高将在何种程度上影响每一种不同商品的价格，却根本不可能准确判断。因此，要按各种国内商品价格上涨的比例，对各种外国商品课以相当的税负，就不可能将额度确定得相当准确。

第二，生活必需品税对人民生活景况的影响，无异于土壤贫瘠和气候的恶劣对人民生活的影响。粮食价格因此变得比从前昂贵，正如在贫瘠的土壤和恶劣的气候之下，生产粮食需要付出额外的劳动和费用。在土壤和气候等条件导致自然资源贫乏的情况下，指导人民如何使用其资本与劳动无疑非常荒谬；同理，在生活必需品赋税人为地导致资源匮乏时，这么做也显得滑稽可笑。很明显，在上述两种情况下对人民最有利的做法，让他们尽可能地适应当前环境，为自己的劳动寻找合适的用途，使之即使在不利的情况下，也能在国内或国外市场上占有稍稍优越的地位。人民的捐税负担已经太重了，且已经为生活必需品支付了极为高昂的价格，如果再课以新税，要他们再为其他大部分商品也支付过高的价格，无疑是雪上加霜，此乃最为荒谬的补救办法。

这类赋税高到一定程度，所造成的祸害决不低于土壤贫瘠和天时险恶所造成的祸害；然而最普遍征收这类赋税的地方，却正是那些人民最富裕，也最勤勉的国家。其他国家经不起这么大的失调。只有最强健的身体，才能在饮食不卫生时也能存活并拥有健康；国家也是一样，只有当一个国家的各种产业都具有最大的先天和后天优势时，才能在这么重的苛捐杂税下继续存在并繁荣发展。在欧洲，这一类赋税最多的国家要算荷兰，而荷兰之所以继续繁荣，并不是像人们无端想象的那样，因为有了这类税负，而是由于荷兰本国的特殊情形，这类税负无法阻止其继续繁荣。

对外国产业课以关税负担，以此来鼓励本国产业的做法，总体而言在上述两种情况下是有利的，而在下述两种情况下，则需要斟酌考虑两个问题：其一，应在何种程度上继续允许自由进口某些外国商品；其二，应在何种程度上，或以何种方式，在自由进口中断一段时间之后再次恢复。

有时需要考虑应在何种程度上继续允许自由进口某些外国商品的情况是：某个境外国家通过高关税或禁令，抑制我国某些制造业产品进口到该国。在这种情况下，复仇之心自然会诱使我们实施报复，我们应该对该国的某些或全部制造业产品同样征收高关税或完全禁止进口。事实上，各国通常都是如此实施报复的。法国人为了庇护本国的制造业，特别喜欢用限制进口的办法，对付一切能和他们竞争的外国商品。这似乎是科尔贝尔先生政策的重要组成部分，科尔贝尔先生尽管才智超群，在这一点上却似乎被商人和制造业者的诡辩蒙骗了，他们总是要求获得针对其同胞的垄断权。如今，就连法国最有才智的人都认为，先生的这种做法对国家毫无裨益。这位财政大臣于1667年颁布关税法，对大多数外国制造业品课以极高的关税；荷兰人请求降低关税而不得，便于1671年颁布法令，禁止进口法国的葡萄酒、白兰地及制造业商品。两国之所以于1672年开战，部分原因就是这一商业纠纷。1678年的奈梅亨和约结束了战争，应荷兰人之请，降低了关税，荷兰人也撤销了进口法国商品的禁令。英法两国大约是在同一个时候开始使用同样的关税和禁令来抑制对方国家的产业的，不过首先采取行动的似乎是法国。从那时以来一直存在于两国之间的敌忾之心，使得双方都不肯降低关税。1697年，英国禁止进口弗兰德制造的梭结花边。弗兰德那时是西班牙领地，其政府立即宣布禁止进口英国毛织品，以示报复。1700年，英国撤回了禁止进口弗兰德梭结花边的禁令，条件是弗兰德必须撤销禁止进口英国毛织品的禁令。

为了要撤销各方实施的高关税或禁令而纷纷采用的报复政策，如果能够达到目的，则不啻为一记良策。一般来说，能够恢复较大的外国市场，不但完全可以抵消由于某些商品价格暂时昂贵而经历的暂时困难，还能带来额外补偿。要判断这种报复能否产生效果，与其说需要立法者的知识，不如说需要有所谓政治家或政客的技巧，前者的深思熟虑应该受到普遍的一般原理的指导，而那些狡猾的“动物”，即被俗称为政治家或政客的那些人，在考虑问题时一般都得随机应变、见风使舵。在没有可能撤销这种禁令的时候，为了要补偿我国某些阶层人民所受的伤害，从而使伤害到我们自身的利益，则除了本来受伤害的那些阶层，几乎所有阶层都会受到伤害，这似乎不是一个好办法。当邻国禁止进口我国某种制造品时，我们通常不但禁止进口该国的同种制造品，而且禁止进口其生产的其他几种制造品，因为仅仅禁止那一种制造品很少能够对他们造成显著的影响。这样做无疑可能会给我国某些生产部门的工人以鼓励，替他们排除一些竞争者，使他们能在国内市场上抬高价格。不过，我们那些因邻国禁令而蒙受损失的工人是决不会从这类禁令中获益的。反之，他们以及我国几乎所有其他阶层的人民，在购买某些商品时，都不得不支付比从前更为昂贵的价格。所以，每一项此类法律的实施，事实上都给整个国家的民众增加了税负，不仅不利于那些因邻国禁令而遭受损失的我国工人，也不利于我国其他各阶层的民众。

在外国商品的自由进口中断一段时间之后，应该在何种程度上，或以何种方式恢复自由进口，需要考虑这第二个问题的原因是，由于一切能与其竞争的外国商品都被课以高关税或禁止进口，我国的某些制造业大大扩充，雇用了无数的工人。在这种情况下，出于人道主义的考虑，也许应该一步一步、小心翼翼地恢复自由贸易。如果骤然撤销高关税与禁令，价格低廉的外国同类货物将迅速涌入国内市场，导致我国千千万万的人口失业，连日常的生活资料也无从获取。由此引发的混乱无疑非常可怕。不过由于以下两个原因，由此引发的混乱或许要比一般人想象的小得多。

第一，所有在无奖励金的情况下通常也可以出口到欧洲其他各国的制造品，都很少会受到外国商品自由进口的影响。这类制造品在输往外国时，其售价必须与同品质的同类其他外国商品同样低廉，因而在国内的售价必然更低。这样一来，它们仍然能够占有国内市场。即使有一些爱赶时髦的人有时只因为是外国货便趋之若鹜，本国制造的同类商品虽价廉物美，亦为他们所不取，然而根据自然规律，这种愚行总不会那么普及，所以对人们的就业不会产生显著的影响。在我国的毛织品制造业、鞣革业、铁器业中，就有很大一部分制造品每年不依赖奖励金而输往欧洲其他各国，而雇用职工人数最多的制造业，也恰恰就是这几种制造业。从自由贸易中受到最大损害的或许是丝绸制造业，其次是麻布制造业，不过后者所受的损失比前者少得多。

第二，这样恢复贸易自由，虽然会令许多人突然失业并丧失基本生活资料，但他们不会因此而彻底失业或了无生计。上次战争结束时，海陆军人数裁减了10万多，相当于国内最大的制造业所雇用的人数；他们顿时失去了平素的职业，无疑会感到种种不便，但他们并没有因此便被剥夺所有的职业和生计。水兵的较大部分或许会有机会逐渐转移到商船上提供服务。与此同时，被遣散的陆军士兵，都被吸收到广大民众中，受雇于各种职业。10万多惯于使用武器，而且其中有许多惯于劫掠的人，生活状况发生了那么大的变化，却不曾出现大的骚动，也不曾引起显著的混乱。在我国的任何地方，流氓的数目并未因此而显著增加，而且据我所知，除了水兵转为商船海员外，任何一种职业的劳动工资也未曾减少。但是要是我们将士兵的习惯和任何一种制造业工人的习惯放在一起做一比较，即可发现：与前者相比，后者总是有可能且有资格转而从事新的行业。这是因为士兵一向以依赖粮饷为生，而制造业工人则只能靠自己的劳动为生；前者倾向于怠惰与闲荡，而后者倾向于勤勉与刻苦。由一种辛勤劳动转而从事另一种辛勤劳动，当然要比由怠惰闲荡变为勤勉刻苦容易得多。此外我们在前面已经论及，大部分制造业都有与其性质相似的旁系制造业，所以工人很容易从这些制造业的一种转到另一种。而且这类工人中的大部分，偶尔还被雇用从事农业劳动。以前在特定制造业中雇用他们的资本仍将留在国内，以其他方式雇用同样数目的人。国家的资本和从前相同，对劳动的需求也和从前相同或大致相同，不过是用在不同地方和不同职业中罢了；的确如此，海陆军士兵被遣散后即拥有了自由，可以在英国或爱尔兰的任何城镇或任何地方从事任何职业。让我们恢复国王陛下的一切臣民选择任何职业的天赋自由，像海陆军士兵所享有的那样，换言之，摧毁同业组合的专营特权、废除学徒法令（此二者实际上都是对天赋自由的侵犯），再废除居住法，使贫穷工人在此地此业中失业之后，能够在彼地彼业中就业，无须担心被人检举，也无须担心被迫迁移，这样公众与个人，由于某特定制造业工人的偶然遣散而蒙受的损害，就不会大于士兵遣散所遭受的损害。我国的制造业工人无疑对国家有很大的功绩，但和以血肉保卫国家的士兵相比，他们的功绩就显得小些，因而也不奢望得到什么更好的待遇。

我们不能指望自由贸易在英国完全恢复，正如不能指望理想国或乌托邦在英国实现一样。不仅公众的偏见，还有更难克服的许多个人对私利的欲望，这些都是完全恢复自由贸易所面对的不可抗拒的阻力。如果军队的将领都像大制造业者反对每一个有关在国内市场增加其竞争者人数的法律一样，激烈地一致反对裁减兵力，都像制造业者鼓动工人以暴力攻击和伤害此类法律的提议者那样，激烈地一致鼓动他们的士兵以暴力攻击缩减兵力政策的提议者，那么要想缩编军队就会非常危险，正如我们现在想在任何方面减缩我国制造业者既得的有害于同胞的垄断权一样危险。这种垄断权已经在很大程度上增加了某些制造业的人数，他们像一个过于庞大的常备军一样，不但可以胁迫政府，而且往往可以胁迫立法机关。支持加强此种垄断权提案的议会成员不仅可以获得理解贸易的佳誉，而且可以在那种因为人数众多和财富庞大而占据重要地位的阶层中备受欢迎与拥护。反之，要是此人胆敢反对这类提案，或者甚而有权阻止这类提案，那么，即使他被公认为是最正直的人，有最高的地位、最大的社会功绩，恐怕仍不免遭受最不名誉的侮辱与诽谤，不免受到人身攻击，而且有时会面临实际的危险，因为愤怒和失望的垄断者有时会以无理的暴行来加害他。

大制造业经营者，如果由于在国内市场上突然遇到了外国竞争对手而不得不放弃原来的行业，损失无疑是巨大的。通常用来购买原材料和支付工资的那一部分资本，要另觅用途或许不会十分困难；但固定在工厂及职业工具上的那一部分资本，其处置却难免会造成相当大的损失。因此出于对这类人利益的公平考虑，就要求这种变革不要操之过急，而要徐缓、逐渐地在发出警告很久以后实行。要是立法机构能够深思熟虑，不为出于片面利益的嘈杂抱怨声所左右，而是为大众普遍利益的卓识远见所引导，那么就要特别小心，既要防止形成任何新的此类垄断，又不能让已经形成的垄断继续扩大。这样的法规会在一定程度上给国家的体制带来实际的混乱，而后来的补救措施也难免引发新的混乱。

至于在何种程度上可以适当地对进口外国商品课以关税，不是为了阻止进口，而是为政府筹集收入，我将在以后考察税负时详细探讨。但为了阻止甚至减少进口而强加的关税，显然是在破坏自由贸易，对国家税收也是有百害而无一利。

注释

【1】　长度单位，相当于3.0法定英里（4.8千米）。——译者注

5
限制的不合理性

第一节
即使根据商业体系的原则，这种限制也不合理

商业体系所提倡的增加金银储量的第二个方法，是对通常认为其贸易差额不利于我国的那些国家的近乎所有商品的进口施加额外限制。正因为如此，西里西亚的上等细布只需缴纳一定的关税即可输入英国，供英国本土消费；但法国的细麻布和上等细布却禁止进口，只能被运往伦敦港，在那里的仓库中等待转运输出。相对于葡萄牙或任何其他国家生产的葡萄酒，我国对法国葡萄酒进口征收的关税也格外苛重。依照所谓的“1692年关税”的相关规定，一切法国商品都必须缴纳相当于其价格或价值的25％的关税；但来自其他各国的大部分货物所缴纳的关税却要轻得多，很少超过5％。诚然，法国的葡萄酒、白兰地、食盐和醋均不在此限，但这些商品却必须依照其他法律或同一法律的其他条款缴纳其他繁重的税务负担。1696年，有关方面认为25％的税负尚不足以阻止法国商品进口，于是又对白兰地以外的法国货物再课以25％的税，同时对法国葡萄酒每吨课以25英镑的新税，对法国醋每吨课以15英镑的新税。我国税则上所列举的各种商品或大多数商品所必须缴纳的那些一般补助税或“百分之五税”，法国商品无一能够省免。如果把1/3补助税和2/3补助税也计算在内的话，单一般补助税就多达五种；因此，在这次战争开始之前，法国大部分农副产品或制造品至少需要负担75％的进口税。而大部分商品根本负担不起这样重的税负，因此那些税负无异于一纸禁令。我相信，法国一定也针锋相对地对英国的商品和制造品征收同样苛重的税负，不过我并不清楚那些税负具体苛重到什么地步。这种相互施加的限制几乎断绝了两国间一切公平的贸易往来，如此一来，如今无论是法国商品运至英国，还是英国商品运至法国，主要都靠走私。我在前一章所考察的所有原则均起源于私人利害关系和垄断精神；而本章所要考察的各项原则就要归咎于民族偏见与敌意了。于是我们不难推断，这里提到的这些原则更加缺乏合理性，即使根据商业体系的诸项原则，也是极不合理的。

首先，即使英法之间自由通商，使得贸易差额确实对法国有利，我们也不能因此而断言该贸易就对英国不利；也不能因此而断言，英国全部贸易的总差额会因此而对英国更加不利。如果法国产的葡萄酒比葡萄牙产的葡萄酒价廉物美，法国产的麻布比德国产的麻布价廉物美，那么英国需要的葡萄酒与外国麻布，当然是从法国购买更加有利，而从葡萄牙和德国购买更为不利。尽管这样一来，每年从法国进口的商品价值将大大增加，但因同品质的法国商品价格要比葡萄牙和德国的商品更为低廉，全部进口商品的总价值应该有所减少，而减少的数量恰与其低廉程度相称。即便从法国进口的商品将完全用于在英国本国消费，情况也是如此。

其次，我们进口的法国商品中大部分可能会转而出口到其他国家去赚取利润，这种转出口带来的回报也许会等同于我们从法国进口的全部商品的原始费用。人们经常挂在嘴边关于东印度贸易的种种理论，或许对法国贸易也同样适用，那就是，尽管东印度的商品中大部分都是用金银购买的，但将其中一部分商品再出口之后所能够带回到本国来的金银，就比所有货物的初始费用还要多。现在，荷兰最重要的贸易部门之一，就是负责将法国商品运到欧洲其他各国。英国人饮用的法国葡萄酒，也有一部分是秘密经由荷兰及西兰岛【1】输入的。如果英法之间实施自由贸易，或者法国商品在进口时缴纳的税负水平与欧洲其他各国相同，并在出口时退回，那么在如今对荷兰如此有利的对法贸易中，英国就有机会分得一杯羹了。

最后，第三点，我们没有一个明确的标准，可以判定任何两国之间的贸易差额究竟对哪国有利，即哪一个国家输出的价值最大。关于这一类问题，我们判断的依据往往是为个别贸易者的私利所左右的国民偏见与敌意。然而在这种情况下，人们往往会使用两种标准，即关税簿册和汇兑情况。在我看来，这也是如今大多数人所认可的，关税簿册这种标准是非常靠不住的，因为根据该标准对大多数商品的估值都极不准确。至于汇兑的情况，恐怕也是同样不可靠。

据说，如果两地，如伦敦和巴黎，以等值票面进行汇兑，那表明伦敦欠巴黎的债务，恰被巴黎欠伦敦的债务抵消了。反之，如果在巴黎购买汇票时需要在伦敦给付贴水，据说那就表明伦敦欠巴黎的债务尚未与巴黎欠伦敦的债务完全抵消，还需从伦敦汇出一定的差额；鉴于此输出有风险、麻烦，要产生费用，代汇者要求给付贴水，汇兑人也必须给付贴水。然而据说，两个城市之间债务与债权的一般状况必然会受到彼此间通常的商务往来的支配。如果两个城市之间，甲从乙那里进口的数额不大于它向乙出口的数额，乙从甲那里进口的数额也不大于它向甲出口的数额，则两个城市的债务和债权可以相互抵消。但如果有任何一方从另一方进口的数额大于其向另一方出口的数额，则前者所承担的债务必然大于其对后者拥有的债权，那么二者间的债务和债权就无法互相抵消，前者必须向后者汇出一部分货币，其金额即相当于债务和债权之间的差额。因此，既然两地间商业往来的通常情况可以表明其债务和债权的一般状况，它也就必然能够表明两地间进出口的一般状况，因为这些都是债务和债权状况的支配因素。

不过尽管通过两地之间商业往来的通常情况就足以看出二者债务和债权的一般状况，但我们不能就此推断出，债务和债权情况有利于哪一方，贸易差额也就一定对其有利。任何两地之间债务和债权的一般状况并不一定完全取决于彼此通常的商务往来，通常它还会受到任何一方与其他许多地方进行交易情况的影响。例如，英国商人通常会用荷兰汇票从汉堡、丹泽和里加等地购买货物，这样一来，英国和荷兰之间债务和债权的一般状况就不完全取决于两国彼此交易的通常情况，还将受到英国和那些地方进行交易情况的影响。在这种情形下，即使英国对荷兰的出口可能大大超出它从荷兰进口的价值，即使所谓的贸易差额可能大大有利于英国，它仍然必须每年向荷兰汇出一笔货币。

此外，按照一向计算汇兑平价的方法，同样不能充分表明，如果汇兑的一般情况被认为有利于一个国家，那么债务与债权的一般情况也必然对它有利。换言之，真实的汇兑情况，与计算所得的汇兑情况，可能极不相同，而且事实上往往极不相同，所以，在许多情况下，关于债务和债权的一般情况，我们决不能根据汇兑的一般情况得到确实的结论。

当我们为了在英国支付一笔货币，收到一张可以在法国兑现的一笔货币的汇票时，如果前一笔货币根据英国铸币的标准所含的纯银，与后一笔货币根据法国铸币标准所含的纯银的盎司数目相同，我们就说，英国和法国之间以平价汇兑。如果你所支付的多于兑付所得，人们就认为你支付了贴水，并说汇兑对英国不利，对法国有利。如果你支付的少于兑付所得，人们就认为你得到了贴水，并说汇兑对法国不利，对英国有利。

但是，第一，我们不能总是按照各国造币厂的标准来判断各国通货的价值。各国通货的磨损程度，或者因为其他原因而低于其所制定标准的程度，有多有少。一国通用铸币与他国通用铸币的相对价值，并不取决于各自应该包含的纯银量，而是取决于各自实际所含的纯银量。在威廉王时代的银币改革之前，根据通常的算法，英国和荷兰之间的货币兑换按照其各自铸币的一般标准计算，需要英国支付25％的贴水。然而朗兹先生的调查研究表明，当时英国现行货币的价值比其标准价值不止低25％。因此，尽管按照通常算法当时的汇兑不利于英国，真正的汇兑却有利于英国；事实上，在英国支付较少量纯银所购得的汇票可以在荷兰兑换较大量的纯银，原本被认为在英国支付贴水的人最终却得到了贴水。在上一次英国金币改革之前，法国铸币的磨损程度要远远小于英国，法国铸币接近其标准的程度要比英国铸币高出两到三个百分点。因此，如果按照通常算法，英国与法国铸币之间的兑换对英国不利的程度不超过2％到3％的话，实际兑换就很可能对英国有利。自金币改革以来，兑换一直都对英国有利，对法国不利。

第二，在某些国家，铸币的费用是由政府支付的；而在另一些国家，它是由个人支付的，此时个人不但要持银块前往制币厂，政府甚至还有可能从铸币过程中获得一些税收。在英国，铸币的费用是由政府支出的，如果你持有1磅重的标准纯银前往铸币厂，可以得到62先令，其所含的同类标准纯银的重量正好是1磅。在法国，政府对铸币收取8％的税，不但支付了铸币的费用，还能够为政府带来少量收入。由于英国的铸币不收费，现行银币的价值绝不可能大大超过其实际包含的银块的价值。而在法国，由于铸币是收费的，劳动增加了铸币的价值，正如劳动使得精致的金银器皿的价值提高一样。如此说来，包含一定重量纯银的一笔法国货币要比包含同样重量纯银的英国货币的价值更高，购买时也必然需要花费更多的银块或其他商品。因此，虽说两国当前的铸币与各自标准的贴近程度没有什么差别，然而一笔英国货币无法买到含有同样重量纯银的一笔法国货币，因而也就无法买到价值相当于这笔货币的法国汇票。如果说我们为这样一笔货币支付的款项足以补偿法国铸币的费用，那么两国间的实际兑换为汇兑平价，其债务和债权或许事实上能够相互抵消，而根据计算所得的汇兑则对法国大大有利。如果所支付的款项低于这一数目，则两国间的汇兑事实上可能有利于英国，而根据算法则是有利于法国的。

第三点，也是最后一点，在某些地方，如阿姆斯特丹、汉堡、威尼斯等，外国汇票是以其所谓银行货币兑换的；而在另外一些地方，如伦敦、里斯本、安特卫普、莱戈恩等，外国汇票则是以本国的普通货币支付的。所谓银行货币的价值始终大于同等面值的普通货币。举例来说，阿姆斯特丹银行的1000荷兰盾的价值大于阿姆斯特丹通行的1000荷兰盾的价值。二者间的差额被称为银行的扣头，在阿姆斯特丹，银行的扣头一般为5％。假设两国当前使用的货币接近其各自铸币标准的程度一样，且其中一国使用普通货币来支付外国汇票，而另一国使用银行货币来支付外国汇票，那么显然，根据通行算法所得的汇兑有利于用银行货币支付的一国，而实际汇兑应该有利于以通行货币支付的一国；其道理和根据算法所得汇兑有利于用磨损较小的货币，或更接近于其各自标准的货币支付汇票的一方，而实际汇兑则有利于用磨损程度较大的货币支付的一方的道理是一样的。在上一次金币改革之前，在与阿姆斯特丹、汉堡和威尼斯等地交易时，计算所得的汇兑不利于伦敦，并且我认为，在与所有其他用所谓银行货币支付汇票的地方交易时的情况也都是如此。不过那并不表明实际汇兑也同样不利于伦敦。自从金币改革以来，即使在与那些地方交易时，实际汇兑也一直是有利于伦敦的。在伦敦与里斯本、安特卫普、莱戈恩等地交易时，或者，我认为在伦敦与除法国外的大多数其他欧洲地方交易时，根据计算所得的汇兑一般都是有利于伦敦的，且实际汇兑很可能也是有利于伦敦的。

［……］

第二节
根据其他原则，那些额外的限制也不合理

在上一节中我试图论证了即使根据商业体系的诸项原则，对于从那些贸易差额被认为不利于我国进口的商品进行额外限制也是完全不必要的。

然而，事实上整个贸易差额原则根本经不起推敲，但是另一方面，不仅这些限制，而且几乎所有其他商业监管规则全都是建立在这一原则之上。当两个地方彼此进行贸易时，贸易差额原则认为，如果差额平衡，则双方均没有损失或利润产生；但是如果贸易差额在任何程度上倾向于其中一方，则必有一方遭受损失，另一方获益，其损失和获益的程度与平衡倾斜程度一致。但是这些推想本身就是错误的。通过补贴或垄断等方式强迫进行的贸易，可能并且通常都不利于原本旨在获益的那一方，在接下来的文字中我会竭力证明这一点。而在没有外力强迫或限制的情况下自然、经常地在任何两地之间进行的贸易总是对双方都有利，不过对双方有利的程度不尽相同。

这里所谓的有利或获益并不是指金银数量的增加，而是指该国土地或劳动年产量的可交换价值的增加，或者其居民年收入的增加。

如果贸易差额平衡，且两地间的贸易完全是用各自本国生产的产品进行交换的话，则在大多数情况下，两地不但都会获益，且获益的程度也完全相同或基本相同；在这种情况下，两国各自会为对方的一部分剩余产品开辟出一块市场；甲方为生产和制造这一部分剩余产品而投入的资本，即在一定数目居民之间分配并为他们提供收入和生计的资本，会由乙方偿还；乙方投入的这部分资本则由甲方偿还。如此说来，两地各有一部分居民的收入或生计是间接从另一方获得的。同样，由于互相交换的商品被认为是同等价值的，在贸易中所使用的两种资本在大多数情况下也就一样多，或几乎一样多；在两国用于生产本国商品的资本，两国居民由此种分配而得的收入与生计，也必然相等或几乎相等。彼此互相提供的收入和生计，根据商务往来的程度，有多有少。举例来说，如果按一年计，两方面居民各自所获得的收入或生计高达10万英镑，或者100万英镑，那么两方面各自就需要为另一方的居民提供10万英镑或100万英镑的年收入。

如果两边的贸易是这样一种情况，即甲方向乙方出口的全部都是本国生产的商品，而乙方输入甲方的回程货物全都是外国商品，那么贸易差额被认为是平衡的，即双方都在用商品交换商品。在这种情况下，双方同样都会获益，但获益的程度不尽相同；纯粹出口本国商品的那个国家的居民，显然从该贸易中获得的收入最多。例如，如果英国从法国进口的商品只包括法国本国生产的商品，而英国本国的商品并不为法国人所需，因而每年向法国输入大量外国商品，例如烟草，或其他东印度商品作为补偿的话，这样的贸易尽管同样能为两国居民带来一定的收入，但为法国居民带来的收入显然要高于英国居民所得的收入。法国每年用于该贸易的全部资本都将在法国民众之间进行分配。而就英国资本而言，只有一部分，即用于生产英国商品（英国用来购买外国商品）的那部分资本，每年是在英国民众之间分配的，大部分英国资本都被用于补偿在弗吉尼亚、印度和中国使用的资本了，并将为那些遥远国度的居民提供收入和生计。在资本数目相同或几乎相同的情况下，法国用于该贸易的资本为法国民众所增加的收入就要大大高于英国用贸易资本为英国民众增加的收入。在这种情况下，法国与英国进行的是直接的消费品对外贸易，而英国与法国进行的是一种迂回的消费品对外贸易。在直接消费品对外贸易和迂回消费品对外贸易中所使用的资本的不同效果，我在前文中已经详细论述过了。

事实上，任何两个国家之间的贸易既不可能是双方都用本国生产的商品进行交换，也不大可能是一方完全用本国商品，而另一方完全用外国商品进行交换。几乎所有的国家都是用一部分本国商品和一部分外国商品进行交换的。然而，在贸易货物中包含最大比例的本国商品和最小比例的外国商品的国家，必然是主要的获益者。

如果英国不是用烟草和东印度商品，而是用金银来支付每年从法国进口的商品的话，则通常认为在这种情况下贸易差额是不平衡的，因为一国的商品不是用商品，而是用金银支付的。然而在这种情况下，正如前一种情况一样，贸易仍然会带给两国居民一些收入，只不过带给法国居民的收入稍高于英国；英国居民还是会从中获得一些收入。用于生产为购买金银所需的英国商品而投入的资本，即在一定数目居民之间分配并为其产生收入的资本，也因此而被收回，从而继续用于生产英国商品。输出这部分金银并不会减少英国的资本总量，正如输入同等价值的其他商品不会减少其资本总量一样。相反，在大多数情况下，英国的资本总量还会有所增加。商品之所以出口，就是因为国外对该商品的需求要大于国内，因此一般认为，出口所换回的商品在国内的价值要大于所出口商品的价值。如果在英国价值仅10万英镑的烟草被出口到法国之后，购回的葡萄酒的价值可以在英国达到11万英镑，那么这次交易就使得英国的资本总量增加了1万英镑。同理，如果用价值10万英镑的英国金子所购回的法国葡萄酒在英国的价值高达11万英镑，那么这次交易也同样使得英国的资本总量增加了1万英镑。如果说酒窖中存有价值11万英镑葡萄酒的商人要比仓库中存有价值10万英镑烟草的人富裕的话，那么葡萄酒商人也一定比保险箱里藏有价值10万英镑金子的商人更加富裕。葡萄酒商人所能够启动的产业数目，并因此而能够为其提供收入、生计和就业者的数目，显然要大于其他二人中的任何一个。然而国家的资本总量等同于其各行各业居民的资本总量，国家一年中所能够维持的产业数目也等同于各行各业的资本所能维持的产业数目。因此一般而言，国家的资本和国家在一年内所能维持的产业数目，将通过这次交换而增加。诚然，如果英国能够用自己生产的五金制品和绒面呢，而不是用弗吉尼亚烟草或巴西和秘鲁的金银来购买法国葡萄酒的话，这次贸易对英国将更加有利；直接的消费品对外贸易永远比迂回贸易更为有利。然而用金银进行交换的迂回的消费品对外贸易，却似乎并不会比其他同类迂回贸易更为不利。一个没有金银矿藏的国家不会因为每年出口这两种金属而造成金银严重短缺，正如一个不生产烟草的国家也不会因为烟草出口而造成烟草资源枯竭。一个有办法购买烟草的国家不会长期短缺烟草；同样，只要有办法购买到金银，任何一个国家也不会长期缺乏金银。

据说，工匠若与麦酒馆进行交易，必对工匠不利；自然，一个制造业国家与生产葡萄酒的国家进行的贸易也同属亏本贸易。我的答案是，与麦酒馆进行的交易不一定是亏本交易。从其本质上来看，它和任何其他交易的获利程度是一样的，只不过这种交易比较容易被滥用。一个酿酒师的职业，或者即使是小酒贩的职业，都必然与其他职业一样，同属必要的劳动分工。一个工匠在需要时从酿酒师那里购买，通常要比他自己酿造同样数量的麦酒更为划算，如果他是一个穷工匠，则对他来说，从小酒贩那里一点一点买，要比从酿酒师那里大量购买更加划算。如果此人贪吃好饮，则无疑会从酿酒师和酒贩那里购买大量麦酒，也会从附近其他的商人那里购买其他商品，比如会从屠夫那里购买更多的畜肉，如果此人贪慕时尚，则必然会从附近的布匹商人那里购买大量呢绒布匹。贸易自由有时的确会被滥用，且就某些贸易来说尤其如此，但无论如何，就工匠这一整体而言，这些贸易能够自由进行，显然是利大于弊。此外，个人有时会因为过量饮酒而倾家荡产，但对于一个国家而言，似乎没有这等风险。虽说每个国家都有很多人因为饮酒而入不敷出，为此量入而出或根本分文不花的人总是占更大多数。此外还应该指出，根据经验，葡萄酒如此便宜，并没有导致满街酒鬼烂醉如泥，倒反而使人们更有节制。大致说来，生产葡萄酒国家的居民是全欧洲最有节制的人，例如西班牙人、意大利人以及法国南部各省的居民。人们很少会不加节制地饮食，像温和的啤酒那样廉价的饮料，就算再怎么大肆挥霍，也无法表现出一个人出手阔绰、慷慨好客。相反，在那些因为气候过热或过冷而不生产葡萄，因而葡萄酒变得物以稀为贵的国家，酗酒倒成了一种普遍的恶行，诸如北方诸国，以及所有居住在热带附近的国家，像几内亚海岸的黑人，就是如此。当来自法国北部各省的兵团驻扎在南部某省，即从葡萄酒比较昂贵的省份来到葡萄酒非常便宜的省份时，我经常听人说，那些士兵起初会因为稀罕优质葡萄酒如此便宜而纵欲，但几个月之后，大多数人就会像当地居民一样节制了。如果我们立刻废除对外国葡萄酒征收的关税，并取消对麦芽、啤酒和淡啤酒加收的税负，英国的中下阶层民众或许也会出现普遍而短暂的酗酒现象，但很可能过不了多久，几乎所有人都会节制起来，且这种节制将一直延续下去。如今，在上流社会，即有能力消费最昂贵的酒精饮料的人士中，酗酒已经不再是普遍的恶行，因为饮用麦芽酒而烂醉如泥的绅士，实不多见。此外，在英国对葡萄酒贸易所进行的限制与其说阻止了人们前往酒馆，不如说阻止了人们令他们无法买到最物美价廉的酒精饮料。此种限制对葡萄牙的葡萄酒贸易更有利，而对法国的葡萄酒贸易不利。据说与法国人相比，葡萄牙人是英国制造业商品更好的顾客，因而与他们进行的贸易应该得到鼓励。政客们说，既然葡萄牙人照顾了我们，我们理应照顾他们。小商人的卑鄙策略，居然就这样成为一个大帝国的政治原则：的确如此，只有小商人，才会把这种策略看作是对待顾客的金科玉律。大商人不会过问这些小节，他们只关心能否在最物美价廉的地方购买到自己需要的商品。

然而，实施通过这类原则，各国最终得出的结论是，他们的利益统统在于让周围所有的邻国都变成穷国。每个国家最终都以嫉妒和毁谤之心看待所有与之进行贸易的国家的繁荣，并认为那些国家一旦得利，就必然意味着自己遭受了损失。各国之间的商业，如同个人之间的商业交易一样，原本应该是团结和友爱的纽带，最终却变成了滋生冲突和仇恨的沃土。在本世纪和上一个世纪，因为王公大臣们的任性和野心而对欧洲和平造成的伤害，远没有商人和制造业者那种无端的嫉妒之心来得更为严重。人类统治者施行的暴力和不公，自古以来就是祸害，在我看来，根据人类行事的规律法则，这种祸害是无法根除的。商人和制造业者既不是也不应该是人类的统治者，他们的贪婪和独占欲也许不能彻底改正，但要其不妨碍其他人的安宁，还是能够轻易做到的。

毫无疑问，最初发明并宣传这种原则的，正是商人们独占和垄断的精神；而最先倡导这种原则的人，却并不像后来笃信这种原则的人那般愚蠢。在任何国家，能够从卖得最便宜的人那里购买到自己需要的商品都是也必然是符合最大多数人利益的。这个道理不言自明，所以花费精力论证会显得有些滑稽；商人和制造业者出于自私、精明而故意混淆了这一基本常识，如果不因为此，我们甚至根本无须提及这一道理。在这方面，他们的利益与大多数民众的利益截然相反。就像同业组合内自由人的利益在于阻止国内居民雇用其他人而只雇用他们自己一样，这些商人和制造业者的利益，也在于自己保有国内市场的垄断。因此，英国和几乎所有的其他欧洲国家，均对所有由外国商人输入的商品课以额外的税负。于是就有了我们如今看到的，对所有可能与我们的制造品进行竞争的外国制造品征收高关税或干脆明令禁止的现象。因此也正如我们所看到的，对于贸易差额被认为不利于我国的国家，也就是那些与我国的民族仇恨最为强烈的国家，几乎所有商品的进口都施加了额外限制。

然而，尽管在战争或政治中邻国的富裕意味着我国的危险，在贸易中却显然是对我们有利的。在敌对状态下，富裕有可能使得敌人能够保有比我们更为精良的船舰和军队；而在和平的商业状态下，它必然会使得邻国与我们进行价值更大的交易，为我们提供更好的市场，使我们得以出售那些自己生产的产品或用那些产品购买的任何商品。对于勤劳生产的人来说，有富裕的邻人作为顾客自然要比贫穷的邻人更好，有一个富裕的邻国也是同样的道理。的确，如果富人本身又是一个制造业者，或许对所有同业的邻人来说不啻为一种威胁。不过其他邻人，从目前看来也是最大多数邻人却能够从中得益，因为富人的花费为大多数邻人提供了很好的市场。甚至他的产品的售价比那些贫穷的工匠更加低廉也能使大多数邻人受益。同样，一个富国的制造业者对邻国制造业者而言无疑是非常危险的竞争对手，然而竞争本身对大多数民众是有利的，此外，这样一个富裕的国家在其他方面的巨额花费，也必然为人们提供良好的市场，使之从中得益。希望发财的人绝不会退居穷乡僻壤，而必然居住在首都或者大的商业城镇附近。他们很清楚，如果财富的流通量很小，他们便很难从中受益，而如果财富的流通量极大，他们或许能够从中分得一杯羹。这种原则能够引导一两个，乃至一二十个普通人的常识，也应该能够影响一二百，乃至一二千万人的判断，应该能够使整个国家认识到，邻国的富裕可以看作是其本身获得财富的可能来源和潜在机遇。一个国家要想通过对外贸易富强起来，那么如果邻国都是富裕而勤勉的商业国家，它自然最容易达到目的。如果一个大国四周都是些游牧的未开化之人或贫穷的野蛮人，那么它无疑只能通过开垦本国的土地或发展国内商业来获取财富，想靠对外贸易则基本无望。古代埃及人和现代中国人似乎正是通过这种方式获得财富的。据说，古埃及人极不重视对外贸易；众所周知，现代中国人极其轻视对外贸易，根本不给对外贸易以正当的法律保护。由于对外商业贸易的现代原则旨在使所有的邻国陷入贫困，就算能够达到目的，产生其所企望的效果，也必然使得对外商业沦为极其微不足道、受人鄙视的地位。

正是这些原则，导致法国和英国之间的商业往来在两国都受到了很多阻碍和限制。然而，如果两个国家考虑一下自己真正的利益，而不要顾及商业上的妒忌或民族仇恨，法国商业为英国带来的利益可能远非任何其他国家可比；出于同样的原因，英国之于法国也是如此。法国是距离英国最近的邻国。英国南部沿海各地与法国北部及西北部沿海各地间的贸易，好像国内贸易一样，可以每年往返4次、5次乃至6次。两国投在这种贸易中的资本，比起投在对外贸易的大部分其他分支中的等量资本而言，可以启动4倍、5倍乃至6倍的产业活动，为4倍、5倍乃至6倍的人口提供就业和生计。就算英国和法国距离最远的那些地区之间，其贸易往来至少也能达到每年1次，即使这种少量的贸易，迄今为止英国从中所获得的利益也至少和与大部分其他欧洲国家进行对外贸易的获利一样多。如果与被我们鼓吹夸大的英国和北美殖民地之间的贸易相比——那种贸易往往每3年，甚至常常是每4—5年才能往返一次——则对法贸易的获利至少要高出3倍。此外，据估计法国居民多达2400万，而我们的北美殖民地人口绝不会超过300万；法国要比北美富饶得多；尽管由于财富不平等分配的现象更为严重，法国的穷人和乞丐人数也要比北美多得多。因此，法国所能提供的市场至少要比北美市场大8倍，且由于贸易往来的频率极高，英国从对法贸易中所得的利益要比对北美殖民地贸易所能提供的获利高出24倍之多。与英国的贸易对法国也同样有利，且根据两个国家的财富、人口、邻近程度，法国与英国的贸易也同样比法国与其殖民地之间的贸易优越得多。以上就是两种贸易之间的巨大差别：一种是两国的所谓“智者”认为应该阻止的贸易，而另一种是最受他们偏爱的贸易。

然而本该促进两国之间的开放自由贸易，使双方都从中收获甚丰的现实环境，却最终变成了对这种商业贸易的主要阻碍力量。由于彼此相邻，两国必然成为竞争对手，因此，一方的富强必然会使另一方感到恐惧；本来可以增进民族友谊的有利因素，最终却助长了激烈的民族仇恨。两国都是富饶而勤勉的国家；两国的商人和制造业者都害怕由于另一方的高超技能和勤勉劳动所带来的激烈竞争。商业上的嫉妒由强烈的民族仇恨所激起，而强烈的民族仇恨又助长了商业上的嫉妒，两者相互助长；两国的贸易者，都无比笃信其自私自利的谬说，宣称不受限制的国外贸易，必然会生出不利的贸易差额，而不利的贸易差额，又一定会导致国家的毁灭。

在欧洲各商业国家内，秉持这种学说自命不凡的学者常常预言说：贸易差额的不利必将导致国家濒于灭亡。但在这一切令他们激奋不已的焦虑论调背后，几乎所有贸易国家都试图改变贸易差额，使其有利于本国而不利于邻国，不过，这些努力似乎都是徒劳，无论从哪个方面来说，似乎没有一个欧洲国家曾因上述原因而陷入贫困。相反，每一个城镇和国家都因为对所有国家开放港口而致富，并没有像商业体系原则所预期的那样，因为自由贸易而走向毁灭。今日的欧洲，从某些方面来说，虽有几个城镇能够配得上自由贸易港口之称，而真正开放自由贸易的国家却没有一个。荷兰或许要算是最接近这一特征的国家了，却仍然离此目标甚远；众所周知，不仅荷兰的国家财富全部得自对外贸易，其国民必要生计的大部分也来自于对外贸易。

我在上文中已经解释过，还有一种差额全然不同于贸易差额，而这种差额的有利或不利，将必然决定一个国家的兴衰，这就是年产量和年消费量的差额。前文已经指出，如果年产量的可交换价值超过年消费量的可交换价值，则社会在这一年内的资本必然增加，增加的部分正好是前者超出后者的部分。在这种情况下，整个社会就其收入来说是量入而出的局面，整个一年中节省下来的收入自然增加了其资本总量，社会可继而使用这些盈余资本进一步增加年产量。相反，如果年产量的可交换价值低于年消费量的可交换价值，则整个社会的资本必然减少，减少的部分也正好是前者低于后者的部分。在这种情况下，整个社会就其收入来说，陷入了入不敷出的局面，消费必然会侵蚀资本。因而，社会的资本总量必然减少，随之而减少的，还有工业年产量的可交换价值。

产量和消费量的差额与所谓的贸易差额截然不同。即使是完全没有对外贸易、与世隔绝的国家，也可能存在这种差额。无论整个地球上的财富、人口和土地改良情况如何逐渐增加或逐渐减退，这种差额始终存在。

即使在所谓的贸易差额从整体而言不利于某一个国家时，产量和消费量之间的差额仍然可能始终有利于该国。也许半个世纪以来，一个国家的进口价值始终超出其出口价值；即使整个这段时期流入的金银可能立即流出；即使其流通的铸币逐渐磨损，只能用各种纸币替代铸币；甚至即使该国对与之交易的主要国家的债务逐渐增加，在同一时期内，这个国家真正的财富，它的土地和劳动年产量的可交换价值仍然可能以大大超过这些负面因素的比例与日俱增。

［……］

注释

【1】　位于丹麦东部，是丹麦境内最大的岛屿。——译者注

6
农业体系

我认为有必要对于政治经济学的贸易或商业体系作出详尽的解释，而对农业体系就不必长篇大论了。

据我所知，没有任何一个国家的农业体系将土地农产品作为该国政府收入和社会财富的唯一来源，这种观点目前仅仅是几个学识渊博且独辟蹊径的法国人的构想。显然，如果一种学说根本没有，甚至可能永远不会对世界上的任何国家造成任何危害，实在没有必要费心去详尽罗列该学说有何弊端。不过在此，我还是要尽可能地解释清楚这个天才学说的大致轮廓。

法王路易十四当政期间，鼎鼎有名的财政大臣科尔贝尔先生为人正直、工作勤勉、所学甚详，对审查政府账目有着丰富的经验和敏锐的洞察，简言之，他具备足够的能力，完全可以用新方案来管理政府税收的收支，并处理得井井有条。遗憾的是，这位杰出的财政大臣已经习惯了管理诸多政府部门的方法，习惯了建立必要的核查和监督机制，使这些部门各归其所。商业体系本质上的诸多束缚和严格管制，恰恰迎合了这位对工作兢兢业业的财政大臣的口味，他的头脑中充斥着商业体系带来的所有偏见。他试图将政府部门的管理模式运用到法国的工商业，不但不允许个体商人在平等、自由、公正的开明原则下以其各自的方式追求利益，还赋予某些工商业部门额外的特权，对另一些部门又特别限制。在城镇工商业和农业两者之间，他不仅和欧洲其他各国的财政大臣一样倾向于鼓励前者的发展，甚至不惜以抑制和阻止后者的发展为代价来辅助前者。为了给城镇居民提供价格低廉的生活必需品，以此来鼓励法国制造业和对外贸易，科尔贝尔先生全线禁止玉米出口，致使该国迄今最重要的工业原料无法进入国外市场。法国有着肥沃的农田和宜人的气候，自然条件十分优厚，但上述禁令连同各省自古就有的禁止玉米省际运输法案，再加上各省土地耕种者担负的名目繁多的苛捐杂税，导致法国的农业发展严重滞后。政府抑制农业发展在法国各地多少都有所体现，对其原因也展开过各种调查，原因之一似乎是科尔贝尔政府在城镇的工商业和农业之间选择优先发展前者。

常言道，矫枉往往过正。曾提出将农业作为每一个国家政府税收和社会财富的唯一来源的法国思想家们，似乎恰恰就是以此为座右铭的。如果说在科尔贝尔的方案中，城镇工商业发展被给予过高重视，那么这些哲学家设想的体系无疑又对它太不重视了。

一般认为，在任何方面可能有助于增加一国土地和劳动年产值的各阶层人民主要分为三类。第一类是土地所有者。第二类是土地耕种者、农场主和农村劳动者，这类人被尊称为生产阶级。第三类是饱受歧视，并被冠以“非生产阶级或纯消费阶级”这一侮辱性的称号的工匠、制造业者和商人。

土地所有者阶层对土地年产值的贡献在于，他们定期投入资本改良土地，修葺农舍，疏通排水设施，修补篱笆并改善其他设施。有了这些，耕种者就能够在同等资本投入的基础上获得更好的收成，从而缴付更高的地租。增加的这部分地租可以看作土地所有者支出费用或投入资本改良土地所应得的利息或利润。在农业学说中，这种费用被称为土地费用。

土地耕种者或农场主对土地年产值的贡献在于，他们支出费用耕种土地，在农业学说中，这部分费用被称为原始费用和年度费用。原始费用包括购买农具、牲畜、种子，以及农场主在第一年租种土地期间至少大半年时间或在土地有若干收成之前，维持其家人、雇工和牲畜的费用。年度费用包括购买种子、农具磨损和修葺的费用，以及农场主在一年内维持其雇工和牲畜而支出的费用，如果农场主的家人也参与劳动，被视为耕种的雇工，则也包括这部分家人的基本生活费用。对于农场主而言，土地的收成除去上缴的地租应充足有余。首先要在合理的时间内，至少在他租种期间，能够收回他所有的原始费用和产生资本的一般利润；其次要能够每年补偿他的所有年度费用和产生资本的一般利润。这两种费用是农场主在耕种期间投入的资本，如果资本不能定期收回并带来一定的利润，农场主付出的劳动和其他职业就不在同一水平上，那么从自身利益出发，他就必须尽快放弃这种劳动，寻求其他能够带来利润的工作。土地产值中用于使农场主再生产的部分应该留给耕种者专用。如果土地所有者将其挪作他用，其土地的产量必然下降，几年之后农场主将不但难以缴付上调的地租，甚至连原来的合理地租也难以承受。应该归属土地所有者的地租，不过是把先前用于提高土地总产值而支付的所有必要费用完全扣除之后所剩余的部分。正是由于土地耕种者的劳动，在扣除了所有的必要费用之后还能产生这样一部分净产值，他们在农业学说里才被冠以“生产阶级”的美称，也正是因此，其原始费用和年度费用才在该学说中被称为“生产性费用”，因为除了能够收回其本身的价值，这些费用每年还能产生一部分净产值。

所谓的土地费用，即土地所有者为改良其土地所花费的成本，在农业学说中也被冠以“生产性费用”的美称。直到上调的那部分地租偿还了所支出的所有费用，以及所投入资本的一般利润之前，这部分上调地租应该是神圣而不可侵犯的，教会和国王都不得觊觎：教会不能对其征收什一税，国王不能对其征税。否则，这笔资金的缺失将不利于土地所有者改良土地，从而降低日后教会征缴什一税和国王征税的金额。因此在一个井然有序的社会里，那些土地费用除了完全再生其本身的价值外，也会在一段时间之后产生净产值，所以在该学说中也被称为“生产性费用”。

不过，土地所有者的土地费用，以及农场主的原始费用和年度费用，是农业学说中仅有的三种生产性费用。其他任何形式的费用和其他任何阶层的人们，即使在常人看来是最具有生产能力的，根据这样的标准，也都被视为完全不生产。

工匠和制造业者尤为典型。根据常人的理解，他们的劳动大大增加了土地原产物的价值，可是在农业学说中，他们被认为是完全不生产的阶层。这种学说一般认为，他们的劳动不过是收回了雇用他们的资本，且为这部分资本创造了一般性利润。雇用资本包括由雇主事先垫付的原材料、工具和工资，是专门用于支付其劳动和维持其生活的资金，其所产生的利润则是专门用于维持雇主生活的资金。雇主既垫付了工匠和制造业者劳动所必须的原材料、工具和工资，也垫付了维持他自身生活所必需的那部分资金，一般来说，他垫付的这部分资金和他所希冀的劳动价格带来的利润呈正比。如果劳动价格还不能够偿还他维持自身生活的全部费用和投入到雇工劳动中的原材料、工具和工资费用，那么显然，它未能偿还雇主所投资的全部费用。因此，制造业资本的利润不同于地租的利润，也不是在偿还了雇主为获得利润所投下的全部费用之后所剩余的净利润。和大制造业者一样，农场主投入的资本也能够创造利润，但它还为他人创造了地租，这是大制造业者的投资所无法做到的。因此——这么说吧——用于雇用和维持工匠和制造业者生活的那部分资本不过只是让它本身的价值继续存在，而没有创造任何新价值。这就是为什么农业学说称之为完全不生产的费用。相反，用于雇用农场主或农村劳动力的费用则不仅能够继续维系其自身的价值，还能够产生新价值，即土地所有者的地租，因此它是生产性费用。

商业资本同制造业资本一样，都是不能生产的，都只能维持自身的价值。商业利润仅仅偿还了其雇主在投资期间、收回资本回报之前垫付给自身维持生活的费用，充其量只补偿了投资所必须支付的一部分费用。

工匠和制造业者的劳动的确从未增加过土地原产品年产量价值的一分一毫，可又的确大大增加了某些特定原产品的价值。不过其所消费的其他部分的价值及其所增加的那部分价值正好相等，因此在整个过程中，农产品年产总量的价值并未有丝毫增加。举例来讲，一个将褶边加工成蕾丝的手艺人，有时会将价值仅为几便士的亚麻原料的价值增加到30英镑。乍看之下，他似乎把原材料价值增加了7200多倍，事实上他一丁点儿都没有增加土地原产品年产总量的价值。加工蕾丝或许要耗去他两年的劳动。完工后所得到的30英磅不过只是偿还了他在这两年劳动期间的生活花费而已。他日复一日的劳动为那对褶边所增加的价值不过只是补偿了他那日复一日的劳动过程中的生活花费。因此在整个过程中，他丝毫没有增加土地原产品年产总量的价值：他在此期间所持续消费的农产品部分，总是能够抵消掉他所持续创造的价值。在这个费用高却又不重要的制造业中，受雇的大多数人都很贫穷，这一点恰恰证明，他们的劳动价格一般不超过他们所消耗的生活必需品的价值。而农场主和农村劳动力的情况则不同，一般来说，土地所有者的地租就是其不断产生的价值，而地租又是在扣除了完全补偿劳动者及其雇主的雇用和维持生活所需的全部费用之后剩余的部分。

工匠，制造业者和商人若要增加国家税收和社会财富，唯一的途径就是节俭，或者按照农业学说中的说法，只能靠克己，即自行剥夺原本用于维持自身生活所用的那部分资金。年复一年，他们再生产的只是那部分资金。因此，如果他们每年不节省下一部分资金或限制自己使用一部分资金，他们的劳动就根本不能增加整个社会的税收和财富。农场主和农村劳动力则相反，他们可以充分享有维持自身生活的那部分资金，同时还能增加政府的税收和社会财富。除去维持他们自身生活的花费之外，他们年复一年的劳动还创造了净产值，产值的增加必然将增加税收和社会财富。因而诸如法国和英国这样在很大程度上由土地所有者和耕种者组成的国家，劳动之余还能享乐，国家也因此而走向富裕。与之相反，荷兰和汉堡这类主要由商人、工匠和制造业者组成的国家，就只能通过节俭和克己来累积财富。由于各国所处的境况截然不同，国家的利害关系也大不相同，国民的性格也各有特点：前一类国家的国民自然而然地形成了善良慷慨，诚实直率，热情友爱的性格；后一类国民则难免狭隘卑鄙、自私自利，拒绝任何俗世的享乐。

非生产阶层，即商人、工匠和制造业者完全要靠其他两个阶层，即土地所有者和耕种者阶层来维持和雇用。后两个阶层既为前一个阶层提供了生产原料和维持其生活所必需的费用，又提供了他们在从事该劳动期间所消费的粮食和牲畜。土地所有者和耕种者最终不但要支付非生产阶层所有劳动者的工资，还要支付其雇主的所有利润。那些劳动者及其雇主在某种程度上都受制于生产阶层，只不过他们是在外做工的奴仆，而不是在主人家中做事，不过无论哪一种奴仆，都要靠同一类主人养活。因而两者的劳动都是非生产的，对于土地原产品总价值的增加没有什么影响——不仅没有增加，反倒还需从总价值中抽出一部分来支付自身费用。

尽管如此，非生产阶层不仅不能算作无用，而且对其他两个阶层颇有助益。通过商人、工匠和制造业者的辛勤劳动，土地所有者和耕种者就可以用其自身一小部分劳动的产品，来购买他们所需的他国产品及本国加工的产品；否则，无论输入别国商品还是自行加工为己所用，以其操作的笨拙和不熟练，为此付出的劳动要远远高于他们购买成品所需的费用。因为有了商人、工匠和制造业者的辛勤劳动，土地耕种者才得以心无旁骛地致力于土地的耕种，也正由于这种全力以赴的劳动，他们才能够收获足量的农产品，来支付土地所有者和他们自身为了维持和雇用非生产阶层所支付的全部费用。因此，尽管商人、工匠和制造业者本质上是不生产的，但他们的劳动以这种方式间接增加了土地产量。通过给予生产阶层充分的时间和自由来专注于自己的劳动，即土地耕种，非生产阶层的劳动提高了生产性劳动的生产力；可以这样说，往往由于与耕种毫不相干的人的劳动，耕种的效率得到大大的提高。

对土地所有者和耕种者而言，以任何方式抑制商人、工匠和制造业者的发展，向来都不符合他们的利益。非生产阶层享受的自由度越大，诸多行业间的竞争就越激烈，他们提供给土地所有者和耕种者的商品——无论是别国商品还是本国制造品——的价格就越低廉。

对非生产阶层而言，抑制另外两个阶层的发展也不符合其自身利益。用于维持其生活和雇用其劳动的，正是扣除了土地耕种者和土地所有者维持生活所必须的投资之后剩余的那部分土地农产品。同理，这部分盈余越多，维持和雇用该阶层的费用就会越高。完全公正、完全自由和完全平等地建立，是这三个阶层最大限度地同臻繁荣的最简单、最有效的秘诀。

在荷兰和汉堡等以商业为主的国家，非生产阶层主要由商人、工匠和制造业者构成，维持和雇用他们的资本也同样要由土地所有者和耕种者承担。唯一的区别是，为这些非生产阶层提供生产和生活资料的大多是其他国家的土地所有者和耕种者，是别国臣民，与荷兰等国的工商业阶级相隔千里，极不便利。

然而这些商业国对于其他国家的居民，不仅有用，而且用处颇大。其他国家居民本应拥有其各自的工商业阶层，但因各国政策的某些缺陷，工商业阶层未能形成。这些以非生产阶层为主的国家在某种程度上填补了这个极其重要的空缺，代替了这些国家的商人、工匠和制造业者。

那些农业国家——我姑且这样称呼它们——也决不会对荷兰等国的贸易或输出的商品课以高额关税，来束缚和限制这些商业国家的发展，这不符合它们自身的利益。高额关税会提高这些商品的价格，由于这些商品是用输入国的土地原产物的盈余，或换而言之，是用这些剩余产物的价格购买的，如此只会导致其本国土地原产物实际价值的贬抑。高额关税只会打击生产阶层的积极性，使之不再乐于增加土地产物的盈余，并进而导致本国土地的改良与耕种受到影响。与之相反，如若想提高剩余部分产物的价值、扩大生产、激励改良和耕种土地，最为有效的策略莫过于允许所有商业国家进行绝对的自由贸易。

这种绝对的自由贸易，从以下这一点来说也是最有效的方案：它能够及时提供那些农业国所需要的工匠、制造业者和商人，以最恰当、最便利的方式填补这个使他们深感不便的空缺。

土地剩余产物持续增加，在适当的时候，会创造出多于用于耕种和改良土地的利润值的资金，而这部分利润中剩余的部分自然又被投资，用于雇用国内的工匠和制造业者。然而一旦那些工匠和制造业者发现本国既提供生产原料又提供维持其生活的费用，那么即便他们缺乏精湛的技艺，也极有可能立即生产出与商业国的工匠和制造业者同等低廉的产品，毕竟后者的生产和生活资料要从遥远的地方运来。由于技艺不精，在一段时间内，这些手工业者的制作成本不能和他国技艺娴熟的同行一样低廉；可一旦放眼国内市场，他们的产品和那些千里迢迢来自异国他乡的产品相比，由于减免运费，价格相差无几，并且随着他们技艺的改善精进，他们产品的价格很快就会更大幅度降低。这样，那些商业国的工匠和制造业者在这些农业国的市场上就会立刻面临来自对手的竞争，继之而来的是销量大减，最终被完全挤出该国市场。由于不断改进技艺，农业国的制造业产品价格低廉，假以时日便会走出国门、进军他国市场，且最终会以同样的方式，逐渐将那些商业国家的制造业者挤出市场。

农业国土地原产物和加工产品均保持持续增长，到一定时候会生成一笔资本，其金额会高于用于农业或制造业的费用所产生的一般利润率。这部分盈余自然会转向对外贸易，用于将本国土地原产物和制造业产品超出本国消费需求的那一部分输出到其他国家。在向他国输出本国农产品时，和那些商业国家的商人相比，农业国的商人也具有一定的优势，道理和农业国的工匠和制造业者所具有的优势一样，即农业国的商人可在国内得到货物、原料及供给，而商业国家的商人若要得到这些，就得不远万里地去寻找。因此，如果农业国的商人缺乏先进的航海技术，他们和商业国商人输入到外国市场的货物价格基本持平；一旦农业国商人的航海技术发展成熟，他们的产品价格将更加低廉。如此说来，不久他们就可以在这一块对外贸易中与商业国家平起平坐，并最终将后者完全挤出市场。

因此，按照这个自由宽宏的制度，一个农业国若要促进本国的工匠、制造业者和商人的发展，最有利的办法就是给予其他国家的工匠、制造业者和商人以最大限度的贸易自由。这样可以提高本国土地剩余产物的价值，从而生成一笔资金，经一段时间的积累，这笔资金必然能够培养起本国所需的工匠、制造业者和商人。

相反，如果农业国对外贸课以高额关税或设置重重障碍，必然会从两方面危害到自身利益。其一，抬高所有外国商品和其他制造品的价格，必然会降低本国土地剩余产物的实际价值，因为该国是用这些盈余，或换言之，是用这些剩余产物的价格购买那些外国商品和制造品的；其二，通过给予本国商人、工匠和制造业者在国内市场上的某种垄断，提高商业和制造业相对于农业的利润，就会使先前应用于农业的一部分资本流入商业和制造业，或者阻碍了本应用于农业的资本流入农业。因此我们说，这项政策从两个方面挫伤了农业的发展。首先，它降低了农产品的实际价值，因而降低了农业的利润；其次，它提高了所有其他行业的利润。由此，农业相对处于劣势，贸易和制造业则拥有了原本不该有的优势。受到一己私利的驱使，每个人都会尽可能地将自己的资本和劳动从前者转投到后者。

农业国通过实施这项抑制性政策，可藉相对自由贸易以较快的速度培养出自己的工匠、制造业者和商人——不过这一点非常可疑——然而我们可以说，这是在其还未发展成熟之前，过早地将他们培养起来。过速地培育起某一个行业，就必然会抑制另一个更有价值的行业。被过速培育的这个行业只能回收起初投入的资本并产生一般利润，而被抑制的那个行业在回收该资本并产生一般利润之后还能够产生净值，即支付给地主的地租。这必然会压制生产性劳动，而过早地鼓励了完全不生产的劳动。

［……］

前面已经谈到，任何国家的规模最大和最重要的商业活动是在城乡居民之间展开的。一方面通过交换，城镇居民获得了土地原产物，从而获得了生产材料和维持生活所需的花费；另一方面，他们在交换中支付加工过的能够立即付诸使用的那部分原产物。在截然不同的两类人之间开展交易，其实最终是一定数量的原产物与一定数量的加工品之间的交换，因此后者越贵，前者就会越便宜；任何国家无论以任何方式提高加工品价格，都会导致土地原产物价格下跌，从而不利于该国农业的发展。用一定数量的土地原产物，或用一定数量的土地原产物的价格所能购买的加工品的数量越少，这部分土地原产物的可交换价值就越低，就越会打击土地所有者改良土地或农场主耕种土地的积极性。此外，任何国家无论以何种方式减少工匠和制造业者的从业人数，都会导致国内市场萎缩。而国内市场是土地原产物的诸多市场中最为重要的市场，因而该国的农业发展就会进一步受到抑制。

由此，那些认为农业胜过任何其他行业的学说，为促进农业的发展，总是对制造业和对外贸易设置障碍，最终却事与愿违，原本旨在促进农业发展，却间接地起到了抑制的作用。就这一点来说，其自相矛盾的程度或许要比商业体系的原则更为严重。商业体系对制造业和对外贸易的重视超过对农业的重视，因而从社会资本中抽取部分资本，使社会资本不再用于较有优势的行业，转而用于支持不大具备优势的行业。但事实上它最终却能够实现初衷，鼓励其意欲支持的行业发展。与之相反，重农学说最终只会抑制其所要保护的行业发展。

由此看来，无论是额外鼓励某个行业的发展，增加投入，使之远远超过本应投入的社会资本，还是限制某个行业的发展，减少投入，使之远远低于本应投入的社会资本的制度，事实上都会和原来的目标背道而驰。不仅没有加速富国强民的进程，还降低了土地年产物和劳动力的实际价值。

所有学说，无论是优先发展还是抑制发展的学说，一旦完全废除，最明白、最简单的自由制度就会自然而然地建立起来。只要不违背公正原则，任何人都可以完全自由地按照自己的方式谋求私利，并用他自己的劳动和资本与任何其他个人或阶层展开竞争。

Adam Smith

The Invisible Hand

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

1
The Division of Labour

The greatest improvement in the productive powers of labour, and the greater part of the skill, dexterity, and judgement with which it is anywhere directed, or applied, seem to have been the effects of the division of labour.

The effects of the division of labour, in the general business of society, will be more easily understood by considering in what manner it operates in some particular manufactures. It is commonly supposed to be carried furthest in some very trifling ones; not perhaps that it really is carried further in them than in others of more importance: but in those trifling manufactures which are destined to supply the small wants of but a small number of people, the whole number of workmen must necessarily be small; and those employed in every different branch of the work can often be collected into the same workhouse, and placed at once under the view of the spectator. In those great manufactures, on the contrary, which are destined to supply the great wants of the great body of the people, every different branch of the work employs so great a number of workmen that it is impossible to collect them all into the same workhouse. We can seldom see more, at one time, than those employed in one single branch. Though in such manufactures, therefore, the work may really be divided into a much greater number of parts than in those of a more trifling nature, the division is not near so obvious, and has accordingly been much less observed.

To take an example, therefore, from a very trifling manufacture; but one in which the division of labour has been very often taken notice of, the trade of the pin-maker; a workman not educated to this business (which the division of labour has rendered a distinct trade), nor acquainted with the use of the machinery employed in it (to the invention of which the same division of labour has probably given occasion), could scarce, perhaps, with his utmost industry, make one pin in a day, and certainly could not make twenty. But in the way in which this business is now carried on, not only the whole work is a peculiar trade, but it is divided into a number of branches, of which the greater part are likewise peculiar trades. One man draws out the wire, another straights it, a third cuts it, a fourth points it, a fifth grinds it at the top for receiving the head; to make the head requires three distinct operations; to put it on is a peculiar business, to whiten the pins is another; it is even a trade by itself to put them into the paper; and the important business of making a pin is, in this manner, divided into about eighteen distinct operations, which, in some manufactories, are all performed by distinct hands, though in others the same man will sometimes perform two or three of them. I have seen a small manufactory of this kind where ten men only were employed, and where some of them consequently performed two or three distinct operations. But though they were very poor, and therefore but indifferently accommodated with the necessary machinery, they could, when they exerted themselves, make among them about twelve pounds of pins in a day. There are in a pound upwards of four thousand pins of a middling size. Those ten persons, therefore, could make among them upwards of forty-eight thousand pins in a day. Each person, therefore, making a tenth part of forty-eight thousand pins, might be considered as making four thousand eight hundred pins in a day. But if they had all wrought separately and independently, and without any of them having been educated to this peculiar business, they could certainly not each of them have made twenty, perhaps not one pin in a day; that is, certainly, not the two hundred and fortieth, perhaps not the four thousand eight hundredth part of what they are at present capable of performing, in consequence of a proper division and combination of their different operations.

In every other art and manufacture, the effects of the division of labour are similar to what they are in this very trifling one; though, in many of them, the labour can neither be so much subdivided, nor reduced to so great a simplicity of operation. The division of labour, however, so far as it can be introduced, occasions, in every art, a proportionable increase of the productive powers of labour. The separation of different trades and employments from one another seems to have taken place in consequence of this advantage. This separation, too, is generally carried furthest in those countries which enjoy the highest degree of industry and improvement; what is the work of one man in a rude state of society being generally that of several in an improved one. In every improved society, the farmer is generally nothing but a farmer; the manufacturer, nothing but a manufacturer. The labour, too, which is necessary to produce any one complete manufacture is almost always divided among a great number of hands. How many different trades are employed in each branch of the linen and woollen manufactures, from the growers of the flax and the wool, to the bleachers and smoothers of the linen, or to the dyers and dressers of the cloth! The nature of agriculture, indeed, does not admit of so many subdivisions of labour, nor of so complete a separation of one business from another, as manufactures. It is impossible to separate so entirely the business of the grazier from that of the corn-farmer as the trade of the carpenter is commonly separated from that of the smith. The spinner is almost always a distinct person from the weaver; but the ploughman, the harrower, the sower of the seed, and the reaper of the corn, are often the same. The occasions for those different sorts of labour returning with the different seasons of the year, it is impossible that one man should be constantly employed in any one of them. This impossibility of making so complete and entire a separation of all the different branches of labour employed in agriculture is perhaps the reason why the improvement of the productive powers of labour in this art does not always keep pace with their improvement in manufactures. The most opulent nations, indeed, generally excel all their neighbours in agriculture as well as in manufactures; but they are commonly more distinguished by their superiority in the latter than in the former. Their lands are in general better cultivated, and having more labour and expense bestowed upon them, produce more in proportion to the extent and natural fertility of the ground. But this superiority of produce is seldom much more than in proportion to the superiority of labour and expense. In agriculture, the labour of the rich country is not always much more productive than that of the poor; or, at least, it is never so much more productive as it commonly is in manufactures. The corn of the rich country, therefore, will not always, in the same degree of goodness, come cheaper to market than that of the poor. The corn of Poland, in the same degree of goodness, is as cheap as that of France, notwithstanding the superior opulence and improvement of the latter country. The corn of France is, in the corn provinces, fully as good, and in most years nearly about the same price with the corn of England, though, in opulence and improvement, France is perhaps inferior to England. The corn-lands of England, however, are better cultivated than those of France, and the corn-lands of France are said to be much better cultivated than those of Poland. But though the poor country, notwithstanding the inferiority of its cultivation, can, in some measure, rival the rich in the cheapness and goodness of its corn, it can pretend to no such competition in its manufactures; at least if those manufactures suit the soil, climate, and situation of the rich country. The silks of France are better and cheaper than those of England, because the silk manufacture, at least under the present high duties upon the importation of raw silk, does not so well suit the climate of England as that of France. But the hardware and the coarse woollens of England are beyond all comparison superior to those of France, and much cheaper too in the same degree of goodness. In Poland there are said to be scarce any manufactures of any kind, a few of those coarser household manufactures excepted, without which no country can well subsist.

This great increase of the quantity of work which, in consequence of the division of labour, the same number of people are capable of performing, is owing to three different circumstances; first, to the increase of dexterity in every particular workman; secondly, to the saving of the time which is commonly lost in passing from one species of work to another; and lastly, to the invention of a great number of machines which facilitate and abridge labour, and enable one man to do the work of many.

First, the improvement of the dexterity of the workman necessarily increases the quantity of the work he can perform; and the division of labour, by reducing every man's business to some one simple operation, and by making this operation the sole employment of his life, necessarily increases very much the dexterity of the workman. A common smith, who, though accustomed to handle the hammer, has never been used to make nails, if upon some particular occasion he is obliged to attempt it, will scarce, I am assured, be able to make above two or three hundred nails in a day, and those too very bad ones. A smith who has been accustomed to make nails, but whose sole or principal business has not been that of a nailer, can seldom with his utmost diligence make more than eight hundred or a thousand nails in a day. I have seen several boys under twenty years of age who had never exercised any other trade but that of making nails, and who, when they exerted themselves, could make, each of them, upwards of two thousand three hundred nails in a day. The making of a nail, however, is by no means one of the simplest operations. The same person blows the bellows, stirs or mends the fire as there is occasion, heats the iron, and forges every part of the nail: in forging the head too he is obliged to change his tools. The different operations into which the making of a pin, or of a metal button, is subdivided, are all of them much more simple, and the dexterity of the person, of whose life it has been the sole business to perform them, is usually much greater. The rapidity with which some of the operations of those manufactures are performed, exceeds what the human hand could, by those who had never seen them, be supposed capable of acquiring.

Secondly, the advantage which is gained by saving the time commonly lost in passing from one sort of work to another is much greater than we should at first view be apt to imagine it. It is impossible to pass very quickly from one kind of work to another that is carried on in a different place and with quite different tools. A country weaver, who cultivates a small farm, must lose a good deal of time in passing from his loom to the field, and from the field to his loom. When the two trades can be carried on in the same workhouse, the loss of time is no doubt much less. It is even in this case, however, very considerable. A man commonly saunters a little in turning his hand from one sort of employment to another. When he first begins the new work he is seldom very keen and hearty; his mind, as they say, does not go to it, and for some time he rather trifles than applies to good purpose. The habit of sauntering and of indolent careless application, which is naturally, or rather necessarily acquired by every country workman who is obliged to change his work and his tools every half hour, and to apply his hand in twenty different ways almost every day of his life, renders him almost always slothful and lazy, and incapable of any vigorous application even on the most pressing occasions. Independent, therefore, of his deficiency in point of dexterity, this cause alone must always reduce considerably the quantity of work which he is capable of performing.

Thirdly, and lastly, everybody must be sensible how much labour is facilitated and abridged by the application of proper machinery. It is unnecessary to give any example. I shall only observe, therefore, that the invention of all those machines by which labour is so much facilitated and abridged seems to have been originally owing to the division of labour. Men are much more likely to discover easier and readier methods of attaining any object when the whole attention of their minds is directed towards that single object than when it is dissipated among a great variety of things. But in consequence of the division of labour, the whole of every man's attention comes naturally to be directed towards some one very simple object. It is naturally to be expected, therefore, that some one or other of those who are employed in each particular branch of labour should soon find out easier and readier methods of performing their own particular work, wherever the nature of it admits of such improvement. A great part of the machines made use of in those manufactures in which labour is most subdivided, were originally the inventions of common workmen, who, being each of them employed in some very simple operation, naturally turned their thoughts towards finding out easier and readier methods of performing it. Whoever has been much accustomed to visit such manufactures must frequently have been shown very pretty machines, which were the inventions of such workmen in order to facilitate and quicken their own particular part of the work. In the first fire-engines, a boy was constantly employed to open and shut alternately the communication between the boiler and the cylinder, according as the piston either ascended or descended. One of those boys, who loved to play with his companions, observed that, by tying a string from the handle of the valve which opened this communication to another part of the machine, the valve would open and shut without his assistance, and leave him at liberty to divert himself with his play-fellows. One of the greatest improvements that has been made upon this machine, since it was first invented, was in this manner the discovery of a boy who wanted to save his own labour.

All the improvements in machinery, however, have by no means been the inventions of those who had occasion to use the machines. Many improvements have been made by the ingenuity of the makers of the machines, when to make them became the business of a peculiar trade; and some by that of those who are called philosophers or men of speculation, whose trade it is not to do anything, but to observe everything; and who, upon that account, are often capable of combining together the powers of the most distant and dissimilar objects. In the progress of society, philosophy or speculation becomes, like every other employment, the principal or sole trade and occupation of a particular class of citizens. Like every other employment too, it is subdivided into a great number of different branches, each of which affords occupation to a peculiar tribe or class of philosophers; and this subdivision of employment in philosophy, as well as in every other business, improves dexterity, and saves time. Each individual becomes more expert in his own peculiar branch, more work is done upon the whole, and the quantity of science is considerably increased by it.

It is the great multiplication of the productions of all the different arts, in consequence of the division of labour, which occasions, in a well-governed society, that universal opulence which extends itself to the lowest ranks of the people. Every workman has a great quantity of his own work to dispose of beyond what he himself has occasion for; and every other workman being exactly in the same situation, he is enabled to exchange a great quantity of his own goods for a great quantity, or, what comes to the same thing, for the price of a great quantity of theirs. He supplies them abundantly with what they have occasion for, and they accommodate him as amply with what he has occasion for, and a general plenty diffuses itself through all the different ranks of the society.

Observe the accommodation of the most common artificer or day-labourer in a civilized and thriving country, and you will perceive that the number of people of whose industry a part, though but a small part, has been employed in procuring him this accommodation, exceeds all computation. The woollen coat, for example, which covers the day-labourer, as coarse and rough as it may appear, is the produce of the joint labour of a great multitude of workmen. The shepherd, the sorter of the wool, the wool-comber or carder, the dyer, the scribbler, the spinner, the weaver, the fuller, the dresser, with many others, must all join their different arts in order to complete even this homely production. How many merchants and carriers, besides, must have been employed in transporting the materials from some of those workmen to others who often live in a very distant part of the country! How many merchants and carriers, besides, must how many ship-builders, sailors, sail-makers, rope-makers, must have been employed in order to bring together the different drugs made use of by the dyer, which often come from the remotest corners of the world! What a variety of labour, too, is necessary in order to produce the tools of the meanest of those workmen! To say nothing of such complicated machines as the ship of the sailor, the mill of the fuller, or even the loom of the weaver, let us consider only what a variety of labour is requisite in order to form that very simple machine, the shears with which the shepherd clips the wool. The miner, the builder of the furnace for smelting the ore, the seller of the timber, the burner of the charcoal to be made use of in the smelting-house, the brick-maker, the brick-layer, the workmen who attend the furnace, the mill-wright, the forger, the smith, must all of them join their different arts in order to produce them. Were we to examine, in the same manner, all the different parts of his dress and household furniture, the coarse linen shirt which he wears next his skin, the shoes which cover his feet, the bed which he lies on, and all the different parts which compose it, the kitchen-grate at which he prepares his victuals, the coals which he makes use of for that purpose, dug from the bowels of the earth, and brought to him perhaps by a long sea and a long land carriage, all the other utensils of his kitchen, all the furniture of his table, the knives and forks, the earthen or pewter plates upon which he serves up and divides his victuals, the different hands employed in preparing his bread and his beer, the glass window which lets in the heat and the light, and keeps out the wind and the rain, with all the knowledge and art requisite for preparing that beautiful and happy invention, without which these northern parts of the world could scarce have afforded a very comfortable habitation, together with the tools of all the different workmen employed in producing those different conveniences; if we examine, I say, all these things, and consider what a variety of labour is employed about each of them, we shall be sensible that, without the assistance and cooperation of many thousands, the very meanest person in a civilized country could not be provided, even according to what we very falsely imagine the easy and simple manner in which he is commonly accommodated. Compared, indeed, with the more extravagant luxury of the great, his accommodation must no doubt appear extremely simple and easy; and yet it may be true, perhaps, that the accommodation of a European prince does not always so much exceed that of an industrious and frugal peasant as the accommodation of the latter exceeds that of many an African king, the absolute master of the lives and liberties of ten thousand naked savages.

2
The Principle of the Division of Labour

This division of labour, from which so many advantages are derived, is not originally the effect of any human wisdom, which foresees and intends that general opulence to which it gives occasion. It is the necessary, though very slow and gradual consequence of a certain propensity in human nature which has in view no such extensive utility; the propensity to truck, barter, and exchange one thing for another.

Whether this propensity be one of those original principles in human nature of which no further account can be given; or whether, as seems more probable, it be the necessary consequences of the faculties of reason and speech, it belongs not to our present subject to inquire. It is common to all men, and to be found in no other race of animals, which seem to know neither this nor any other species of contracts. Two greyhounds, in running down the same hare, have sometimes the appearance of acting in some sort of concert. Each turns her towards his companion, or endeavours to intercept her when his companion turns her towards himself. This, however, is not the effect of any contract, but of the accidental concurrence of their passions in the same object at that particular time. Nobody ever saw a dog make a fair and deliberate exchange of one bone for another with another dog. Nobody ever saw one animal by its gestures and natural cries signify to another, this is mine, that yours; I am willing to give this for that. When an animal wants to obtain something either of a man or of another animal, it has no other means of persuasion but to gain the favour of those whose service it requires. A puppy fawns upon its dam, and a spaniel endeavours by a thousand attractions to engage the attention of its master who is at dinner, when it wants to be fed by him. Man sometimes uses the same arts with his brethren, and when he has no other means of engaging them to act according to his inclinations, endeavours by every servile and fawning attention to obtain their good will. He has not time, however, to do this upon every occasion. In civilized society he stands at all times in need of the co-operation and assistance of great multitudes, while his whole life is scarce sufficient to gain the friendship of a few persons. In almost every other race of animals each individual, when it is grown up to maturity, is entirely independent, and in its natural state has occasion for the assistance of no other living creature. But man has almost constant occasion for the help of his brethren, and it is in vain for him to expect it from their benevolence only. He will be more likely to prevail if he can interest their self-love in his favour, and show them that it is for their own advantage to do for him what he requires of them. Whoever offers to another a bargain of any kind, proposes to do this. Give me that which I want, and you shall have this which you want, is the meaning of every such offer; and it is in this manner that we obtain from one another the far greater part of those good offices which we stand in need of. It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantages. Nobody but a beggar chooses to depend chiefly upon the benevolence of his fellow-citizens. Even a beggar does not depend upon it entirely. The charity of well-disposed people, indeed, supplies him with the whole fund of his subsistence. But though this principle ultimately provides him with all the necessaries of life which he has occasion for, it neither does nor can provide him with them as he has occasion for them. The greater part of his occasional wants are supplied in the same manner as those of other people, by treaty, by barter, and by purchase. With the money which one man gives him he purchases food. The old clothes which another bestows upon him he exchanges for other old clothes which suit him better, or for lodging, or for food, or for money, with which he can buy either food, clothes, or lodging, as he has occasion.

As it is by treaty, by barter, and by purchase that we obtain from one another the greater part of those mutual good offices which we stand in need of, so it is this same trucking disposition which originally gives occasion to the division of labour. In a tribe of hunters or shepherds a particular person makes bows and arrows, for example, with more readiness and dexterity than any other. He frequently exchanges them for cattle or for venison with his companions; and he finds at last that he can in this manner get more cattle and venison than if he himself went to the field to catch them. From a regard to his own interest, therefore, the making of bows and arrows grows to be his chief business, and he becomes a sort of armourer. Another excels in making the frames and covers of their little huts or movable houses. He is accustomed to be of use in this way to his neighbours, who reward him in the same manner with cattle and with venison, till at last he finds it his interest to dedicate himself entirely to this employment, and to become a sort of house-carpenter. In the same manner a third becomes a smith or a brazier, a fourth a tanner or dresser of hides or skins, the principal part of the clothing of savages. And thus the certainty of being able to exchange all that surplus part of the produce of his own labour, which is over and above his own consumption, for such parts of the produce of other men's labour as he may have occasion for, encourages every man to apply himself to a particular occupation, and to cultivate and bring to perfection whatever talent or genius he may possess for that particular species of business.

The difference of natural talents in different men is, in reality, much less than we are aware of; and the very different genius which appears to distinguish men of different professions, when grown up to maturity, is not upon many occasions so much the cause as the effect of the division of labour. The difference between the most dissimilar characters, between a philosopher and a common street porter, for example, seems to arise not so much from nature as from habit, custom, and education. When they came into the world, and for the first six or eight years of their existence, they were perhaps very much alike, and neither their parents nor play-fellows could perceive any remarkable difference. About that age, or soon after, they come to be employed in very different occupations. The difference of talents comes then to be taken notice of, and widens by degrees, till at last the vanity of the philosopher is willing to acknowledge scarce any resemblance. But without the disposition to truck, barter, and exchange, every man must have procured to himself every necessary and conveniency of life which he wanted. All must have had the same duties to perform, and the same work to do, and there could have been no such difference of employment as could alone give occasion to any great difference of talents.

As it is this disposition which forms that difference of talents, so remarkable among men of different professions, so it is this same disposition which renders that difference useful. Many tribes of animals acknowledged to be all of the same species derive from nature a much more remarkable distinction of genius, than what, antecedent to custom and education, appears to take place among men. By nature a philosopher is not in genius and disposition half so different from a street porter, as a mastiff is from a greyhound, or a greyhound from a spaniel, or this last from a shepherd's dog. Those different tribes of animals, however, though all of the same species, are of scarce any use to one another. The strength of the mastiff is not in the least supported either by the swiftness of the greyhound, or by the sagacity of the spaniel, or by the docility of the shepherd's dog. The effects of those different geniuses and talents, for want of the power or disposition to barter and exchange, cannot be brought into a common stock, and do not in the least contribute to the better accommodation and conveniency of the species. Each animal is still obliged to support and defend itself, separately and independently, and derives no sort of advantage from that variety of talents with which nature has distinguished its fellows. Among men, on the contrary, the most dissimilar geniuses are of use to one another; the different produces of their respective talents, by the general disposition to truck, barter, and exchange, being brought, as it were, into a common stock, where every man may purchase whatever part of the produce of the other men's talents he has occasion for.

3
The Principle of the Commercial System

Political economy, considered as a branch of the science of a statesman or legislator, proposes two distinct objects: first, to provide a plentiful revenue or subsistence for the people, or more properly to enable them to provide such a revenue or subsistence for themselves; and secondly, to supply the state or commonwealth with a revenue sufficient for the public services. It proposes to enrich both the people and the sovereign.

The different progress of opulence in different ages and nations has given occasion to two different systems of political economy with regard to enriching the people. The one may be called the system of commerce, the other that of agriculture.

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That wealth consists in money, or in gold and silver, is a popular notion which naturally arises from the double function of money, as the instrument of commerce and as the measure of value. In consequence of its being the instrument of commerce, when we have money we can more readily obtain whatever else we have occasion for than by means of any other commodity. The great affair, we always find, is to get money. When that is obtained, there is no difficulty in making any subsequent purchase. In consequence of its being the measure of value, we estimate that of all other commodities by the quantity of money which they will exchange for. We say of a rich man that he is worth a great deal, and of a poor man that he is worth very little money. A frugal man, or a man eager to be rich, is said to love money; and a careless, a generous, or a profuse man, is said to be indifferent about it. To grow rich is to get money; and wealth and money, in short, are, in common language, considered as in every respect synonymous.

A rich country, in the same manner as a rich man, is supposed to be a country abounding in money; and to heap up gold and silver in any country is supposed to be the readiest way to enrich it. For some time after the discovery of America, the first inquiry of the Spaniards, when they arrived upon any unknown coast, used to be, if there was any gold or silver to be found in the neighbourhood? By the information which they received, they judged whether it was worth while to make a settlement there, or if the country was worth the conquering. Plano Carpino, a monk, sent ambassador from the King of France to one of the sons of the famous Gengis Khan, says that the Tartars used frequently to ask him if there was plenty of sheep and oxen in the kingdom of France? Their inquiry had the same object with that of the Spaniards. They wanted to know if the country was rich enough to be worth the conquering. Among the Tartars, as among all other nations of shepherds, who are generally ignorant of the use of money, cattle are the instruments of commerce and the measures of value. Wealth, therefore, according to them, consisted in cattle, as according to the Spaniards it consisted in gold and silver. Of the two, the Tartar notion, perhaps, was the nearest to the truth.

Mr Locke remarks a distinction between money and other movable goods. All other movable goods, he says, are of so consumable a nature that the wealth which consists in them cannot be much depended on, and a nation which abounds in them one year may, without any exportation, but merely by their own waste and extravagance, be in great want of them the next. Money, on the contrary, is a steady friend, which, though it may travel about from hand to hand, yet if it can be kept from going out of the country, is not very liable to be wasted and consumed. Gold and silver, therefore, are, according to him, the most solid and substantial part of the movable wealth of a nation, and to multiply those metals ought, he thinks, upon that account, to be the great object of its political economy.

Others admit that if a nation could be separated from all the world, it would be of no consequence how much, or how little money circulated in it. The consumable goods which were circulated by means of this money would only be exchanged for a greater or a smaller number of pieces; but the real wealth or poverty of the country, they allow, would depend altogether upon the abundance or scarcity of those consumable goods. But it is otherwise, they think, with countries which have connections with foreign nations, and which are obliged to carry on foreign wars, and to maintain fleets and armies in distant countries. This, they say, cannot be done, but by sending abroad money to pay them with; and a nation cannot send much money abroad unless it has a good deal at home. Every such nation, therefore, must endeavour in time of peace to accumulate gold and silver that, when occasion requires, it may have wherewithal to carry on foreign wars.

In consequence of these popular notions, all the different nations of Europe have studied, though to little purpose, every possible means of accumulating gold and silver in their respective countries. Spain and Portugal, the proprietors of the principal mines which supply Europe with those metals, have either prohibited their exportation under the severest penalties, or subjected it to a considerable duty. The like prohibition seems anciently to have made a part of the policy of most other European nations. It is even to be found, where we should least of all expect to find it, in some old Scotch acts of parliament, which forbid under heavy penalties the carrying gold or silver furth of the kingdom. The like policy anciently took place both in France and England.

When those countries became commercial, the merchants found this prohibition, upon many occasions, extremely inconvenient. They could frequently buy more advantageously with gold and silver than with any other commodity the foreign goods which they wanted, either to import into their own, or to carry to some other foreign country. They remonstrated, therefore, against this prohibition as hurtful to trade.

They represented, first, that the exportation of gold and silver in order to purchase foreign goods, did not always diminish the quantity of those metals in the kingdom. That, on the contrary, it might frequently increase that quantity; because, if the consumption of foreign goods was not thereby increased in the country, those goods might be re-exported to foreign countries, and, being there sold for a large profit, might bring back much more treasure than was originally sent out to purchase them. Mr Mun compares this operation of foreign trade to the seed-time and harvest of agriculture. 'If we only behold,' says he, 'the actions of the husbandman in the seed-time, when he casteth away much good corn into the ground, we shall account him rather a madman than a husbandman. But when we consider his labours in the harvest, which is the end of his endeavours, we shall find the worth and plentiful increase of his actions.'

They represented, secondly, that this prohibition could not hinder the exportation of gold and silver, which, on account of the smallness of their bulk in proportion to their value, could easily be smuggled abroad. That this exportation could only be prevented by a proper attention to, what they called, the balance of trade. That when the country exported to a greater value than it imported, a balance became due to it from foreign nations, which was necessarily paid to it in gold and silver, and thereby increased the quantity of those metals in the kingdom. But that when it imported to a greater value than it exported, a contrary balance became due to foreign nations, which was necessarily paid to them in the same manner, and thereby diminished that quantity. That in this case to prohibit the exportation of those metals could not prevent it, but only, by making it more dangerous, render it more expensive. That the exchange was thereby turned more against the country which owed the balance than it otherwise might have been; the merchant who purchased a bill upon the foreign country being obliged to pay the banker who sold it, not only for the natural risk, trouble, and expense of sending the money thither, but for the extraordinary risk arising from the prohibition. But that the more the exchange was against any country, the more the balance of trade became necessarily against it; the money of that country becoming necessarily of so much less value in comparison with that of the country to which the balance was due. That if the exchange between England and Holland, for example, was five per cent against England, it would require a hundred and five ounces of silver in England to purchase a bill for a hundred ounces of silver in Holland: that a hundred and five ounces of silver in England, therefore, would be worth only a hundred ounces of silver in Holland, and would purchase only a proportionable quantity of Dutch goods; but that a hundred ounces of silver in Holland, on the contrary, would be worth a hundred and five ounces in England, and would purchase a proportionable quantity of English goods: that the English goods which were sold to Holland would be sold so much cheaper; and the Dutch goods which were sold to England so much dearer by the difference of the exchange; that the one would draw so much less Dutch money to England, and the other so much more English money to Holland, as this difference amounted to: and that the balance of trade, therefore, would necessarily be so much more against England, and would require a greater balance of gold and silver to be exported to Holland.

Those arguments were partly solid and partly sophistical. They were solid so far as they asserted that the exportation of gold and silver in trade might frequently be advantageous to the country. They were solid, too, in asserting that no prohibition could prevent their exportation when private people found any advantage in exporting them. But they were sophistical in supposing that either to preserve or to augment the quantity of those metals required more the attention of government than to preserve or to augment the quantity of any other useful commodities, which the freedom of trade, without any such attention, never fails to supply in the proper quantity. They were sophistical too, perhaps, in asserting that the high price of exchange necessarily increased what they called the unfavourable balance of trade, or occasioned the exportation of a greater quantity of gold and silver. That high price, indeed, was extremely disadvantageous to the merchants who had any money to pay in foreign countries. They paid so much dearer for the bills which their bankers granted them upon those countries. But though the risk arising from the prohibition might occasion some extraordinary expense to the bankers, it would not necessarily carry any more money out of the country. This expense would generally be all laid out in the country, in smuggling the money out of it, and could seldom occasion the exportation of a single sixpence beyond the precise sum drawn for. The high price of exchange too would naturally dispose the merchants to endeavour to make their exports nearly balance their imports, in order that they might have this high exchange to pay upon as small a sum as possible. The high price of exchange, besides, must necessarily have operated as a tax, in raising the price of foreign goods, and thereby diminishing their consumption. It would tend, therefore, not to increase but to diminish what they called the unfavourable balance of trade, and consequently the exportation of gold and silver.

Such as they were, however, those arguments convinced the people to whom they were addressed. They were addressed by merchants to parliaments and to the councils of princes, to nobles and to country gentlemen, by those who were supposed to understand trade to those who were conscious to themselves that they knew nothing about the matter. That foreign trade enriched the country, experience demonstrated to the nobles and country gentlemen as well as to the merchants; but how, or in what manner, none of them well knew. The merchants knew perfectly in what manner it enriched themselves. It was their business to know it. But to know in what manner it enriched the country was no part of their business. This subject never came into their consideration but when they had occasion to apply to their country for some change in the laws relating to foreign trade. It then became necessary to say something about the beneficial effects of foreign trade, and the manner in which those effects were obstructed by the laws as they then stood. To the judges who were to decide the business it appeared a most satisfactory account of the matter, when they were told that foreign trade brought money into the country, but that the laws in question hindered it from bringing so much as it otherwise would do. Those arguments therefore produced the wished-for effect. The prohibition of exporting gold and silver was in France and England confined to the coin of those respective countries. The exportation of foreign coin and of bullion was made free. In Holland, and in some other places, this liberty was extended even to the coin of the country. The attention of government was turned away from guarding against the exportation of gold and silver to watch over the balance of trade as the only cause which could occasion any augmentation or diminution of those metals. From one fruitless care it was turned away to another care much more intricate, much more embarrassing, and just equally fruitless. The title of Mun's book, England's Treasure in Foreign Trade, became a fundamental maxim in the political economy, not of England only, but of all other commercial countries. The inland or home trade, the most important of all, the trade in which an equal capital affords the greatest revenue, and creates the greatest employment to the people of the country, was considered as subsidiary only to foreign trade. It neither brought money into the country, it was said, nor carried any out of it. The country, therefore, could never become either richer or poorer by means of it, except so far as its prosperity or decay might indirectly influence the state of foreign trade.

A country that has no mines of its own must undoubtedly draw its gold and silver from foreign countries in the same manner as one that has no vineyards of its own must draw its wines. It does not seem necessary, however, that the attention of government should be more turned towards the one than towards the other object. A country that has wherewithal to buy wine will always get the wine which it has occasion for; and a country that has wherewithal to buy gold and silver will never be in want of those metals. They are to be bought for a certain price like all other commodities, and as they are the price of all other commodities, so all other commodities are the price of those metals. We trust with perfect security that the freedom of trade, without any attention of government, will always supply us with the wine which we have occasion for: and we may trust with equal security that it will always supply us with all the gold and silver which we can afford to purchase or to employ, either in circulating our commodities, or in other uses.

The quantity of every commodity which human industry can either purchase or produce naturally regulates itself in every country according to the effectual demand, or according to the demand of those who are willing to pay the whole rent, labour, and profits which must be paid in order to prepare and bring it to market. But no commodities regulate themselves more easily or more exactly according to this effectual demand than gold and silver; because, on account of the small bulk and great value of those metals, no commodities can be more easily transported from one place to another, from the places where they are cheap to those where they are dear, from the places where they exceed to those where they fall short of this effectual demand. If there were in England, for example, an effectual demand for an additional quantity of gold, a packet-boat could bring from Lisbon, or from wherever else it was to be had, fifty tons of gold, which could be coined into more than five millions of guineas. But if there were an effectual demand for grain to the same value, to import it would require, at five guineas a ton, a million of tons of shipping, or a thousand ships of a thousand tons each. The navy of England would not be sufficient.

When the quantity of gold and silver imported into any country exceeds the effectual demand, no vigilance of government can prevent their exportation. All the sanguinary laws of Spain and Portugal are not able to keep their gold and silver at home. The continual importations from Peru and Brazil exceed the effectual demand of those countries, and sink the price of those metals there below that in the neighbouring countries. If, on the contrary, in any particular country their quantity fell short of the effectual demand, so as to raise their price above that of the neighbouring countries, the government would have no occasion to take any pains to import them. If it were even to take pains to prevent their importation, it would not be able to effectuate it. Those metals, when the Spartans had got wherewithal to purchase them, broke through all the barriers which the laws of Lycurgus opposed to their entrance into Lacedemon. All the sanguinary laws of the customs are not able to prevent the importation of the teas of the Dutch and Gottenburgh East India companies, because somewhat cheaper than those of the British company. A pound of tea, however, is about a hundred times the bulk of one of the highest prices, sixteen shillings, that is commonly paid for it in silver, and more than two thousand times the bulk of the same price in gold, and consequently just so many times more difficult to smuggle.

It is partly owing to the easy transportation of gold and silver from the places where they abound to those where they are wanted that the price of those metals does not fluctuate continually like that of the greater part of other commodities, which are hindered by their bulk from shifting their situation when the market happens to be either over- or under-stocked with them. The price of those metals, indeed, is not altogether exempted from variation, but the changes to which it is liable are generally slow, gradual, and uniform. In Europe, for example, it is supposed, without much foundation, perhaps, that during the course of the present and preceding century they have been constantly, but gradually, sinking in their value, on account of the continual importations from the Spanish West Indies. But to make any sudden change in the price of gold and silver, so as to raise or lower at once, sensibly and remarkably, the money price of all other commodities, requires such a revolution in commerce as that occasioned by the discovery of America.

If, notwithstanding all this, gold and silver should at any time fall short in a country which has wherewithal to purchase them, there are more expedients for supplying their place than that of almost any other commodity. If the materials of manufacture are wanted, industry must stop. If provisions are wanted, the people must starve. But if money is wanted, barter will supply its place, though with a good deal of inconveniency. Buying and selling upon credit, and the different dealers compensating their credits with one another, once a month or once a year, will supply it with less inconveniency. A well-regulated paper money will supply it, not only without any inconveniency, but, in some cases, with some advantages. Upon every account, therefore, the attention of government never was so unnecessarily employed as when directed to watch over the preservation or increase of the quantity of money in any country.

No complaint, however, is more common than that of a scarcity of money. Money, like wine, must always be scarce with those who have neither wherewithal to buy it nor credit to borrow it. Those who have either will seldom be in want either of the money or of the wine which they have occasion for. This complaint, however, of the scarcity of money is not always confined to improvident spendthrifts. It is sometimes general through a whole mercantile town and the country in its neighbourhood. Over-trading is the common cause of it. Sober men, whose projects have been disproportioned to their capitals, are as likely to have neither wherewithal to buy money nor credit to borrow it, as prodigals whose expense has been disproportioned to their revenue. Before their projects can be brought to bear, their stock is gone, and their credit with it. They run about everywhere to borrow money, and everybody tells them that they have none to lend. Even such general complaints of the scarcity of money do not always prove that the usual number of gold and silver pieces are not circulating in the country, but that many people want those pieces who have nothing to give for them. When the profits of trade happen to be greater than ordinary, over-trading becomes a general error both among great and small dealers. They do not always send more money abroad than usual, but they buy upon credit, both at home and abroad, an unusual quantity of goods, which they send to some distant market in hopes that the returns will come in before the demand for payment. The demand comes before the returns, and they have nothing at hand with which they can either purchase money, or give solid security for borrowing. It is not any scarcity of gold and silver, but the difficulty which such people find in borrowing, and which their creditors find in getting payment, that occasions the general complaint of the scarcity of money.

It would be too ridiculous to go about seriously to prove that wealth does not consist in money, or in gold and silver; but in what money purchases, and is valuable only for purchasing. Money, no doubt, makes always a part of the national capital; but it has already been shown that it generally makes but a small part, and always the most unprofitable part of it.

It is not because wealth consists more essentially in money than in goods that the merchant finds it generally more easy to buy goods with money than to buy money with goods; but because money is the known and established instrument of commerce, for which everything is readily given in exchange, but which is not always with equal readiness to be got in exchange for every thing. The greater part of goods, besides, are more perishable than money, and he may frequently sustain a much greater loss by keeping them. When his goods are upon hand, too, he is more liable to such demands for money as he may not be able to answer than when he has got their price in his coffers. Over and above all this, his profit arises more directly from selling than from buying, and he is upon all these accounts generally much more anxious to exchange his goods for money than his money for goods. But though a particular merchant, with abundance of goods in his warehouse, may sometimes be ruined by not being able to sell them in time, a nation or country is not liable to the same accident. The whole capital of a merchant frequently consists in perishable goods destined for purchasing money. But it is but a very small part of the annual produce of the land and labour of a country which can ever be destined for purchasing gold and silver from their neighbours. The far greater part is circulated and consumed among themselves; and even of the surplus which is sent abroad, the greater part is generally destined for the purchase of other foreign goods. Though gold and silver, therefore, could not be had in exchange for the goods destined to purchase them, the nation would not be ruined. It might, indeed, suffer some loss and inconveniency, and be forced upon some of those expedients which are necessary for supplying the place of money. The annual produce of its land and labour, however, would be the same, or very nearly the same, as usual, because the same, or very nearly the same, consumable capital would be employed in maintaining it. And though goods do not always draw money so readily as money draws goods, in the long run they draw it more necessarily than even it draws them. Goods can serve many other purposes besides purchasing money, but money can serve no other purpose besides purchasing goods. Money, therefore, necessarily runs after goods, but goods do not always or necessarily run after money. The man who buys does not always mean to sell again, but frequently to use or to consume; whereas he who sells always means to buy again. The one may frequently have done the whole, but the other can never have done more than the one-half of his business. It is not for its own sake that men desire money, but for the sake of what they can purchase with it.

Consumable commodities, it is said, are soon destroyed; whereas gold and silver are of a more durable nature, and, were it not for this continual exportation, might be accumulated for ages together, to the incredible augmentation of the real wealth of the country. Nothing, therefore, it is pretended, can be more disadvantageous to any country than the trade which consists in the exchange of such lasting for such perishable commodities. We do not, however, reckon that trade disadvantageous which consists in the exchange of the hardware of England for the wines of France; and yet hardware is a very durable commodity, and were it not for this continual exportation might, too, be accumulated for ages together, to the incredible augmentation of the pots and pans of the country. But it readily occurs that the number of such utensils is in every country necessarily limited by the use which there is for them; that it would be absurd to have more pots and pans than were necessary for cooking the victuals usually consumed there; and that if the quantity of victuals were to increase, the number of pots and pans would readily increase along with it, a part of the increased quantity of victuals being employed in purchasing them, or in maintaining an additional number of workmen whose business it was to make them. It should as readily occur that the quantity of gold and silver is in every country limited by the use which there is for those metals; that their use consists in circulating commodities as coin, and in affording a species of household furniture as plate; that the quantity of coin in every country is regulated by the value of the commodities which are to be circulated by it: increase that value, and immediately a part of it will be sent abroad to purchase, wherever it is to be had, the additional quantity of coin requisite for circulating them: that the quantity of plate is regulated by the number and wealth of those private families who choose to indulge themselves in that sort of magnificence: increase the number and wealth of such families, and a part of this increased wealth will most probably be employed in purchasing, wherever it is to be found, an additional quantity of plate: that to attempt to increase the wealth of any country, either by introducing or by detaining in it an unnecessary quantity of gold and silver, is as absurd as it would be to attempt to increase the good cheer of private families by obliging them to keep an unnecessary number of kitchen utensils. As the expense of purchasing those unnecessary utensils would diminish instead of increasing either the quantity or goodness of the family provisions, so the expense of purchasing an unnecessary quantity of gold and silver must, in every country, as necessarily diminish the wealth which feeds, clothes, and lodges, which maintains and employs the people. Gold and silver, whether in the shape of coin or of plate, are utensils, it must be remembered, as much as the furniture of the kitchen. Increase the use for them, increase the consumable commodities which are to be circulated, managed, and prepared by means of them, and you will infallibly increase the quantity; but if you attempt, by extraordinary means, to increase the quantity, you will as infallibly diminish the use and even the quantity too, which in those metals can never be greater than what the use requires. Were they ever to be accumulated beyond this quantity, their transportation is so easy, and the loss which attends their lying idle and unemployed so great, that no law could prevent their being immediately sent out of the country.

It is not always necessary to accumulate gold and silver in order to enable a country to carry on foreign wars, and to maintain fleets and armies in distant countries. Fleets and armies are maintained, not with gold and silver, but with consumable goods. The nation which, from the annual produce of its domestic industry, from the annual revenue arising out of its lands, labour, and consumable stock, has wherewithal to purchase those consumable goods in distant countries, can maintain foreign wars there.

A nation may purchase the pay and provisions of an army in a distant country three different ways: by sending abroad either, first, some part of its accumulated gold and silver; or, secondly, some part of the annual produce of its manufactures; or, last of all, some part of its annual rude produce.

The gold and silver which can properly be considered as accumulated or stored up in any country may be distinguished into three parts: first, the circulating money; secondly, the plate of private families; and, last of all, the money which may have been collected by many years parsimony, and laid up in the treasury of the prince.

It can seldom happen that much can be spared from the circulating money of the country; because in that there can seldom be much redundancy. The value of goods annually bought and sold in any country requires a certain quantity of money to circulate and distribute them to their proper consumers, and can give employment to no more. The channel of circulation necessarily draws to itself a sum sufficient to fill it, and never admits any more. Something, however, is generally withdrawn from this channel in the case of foreign war. By the great number of people who are maintained abroad, fewer are maintained at home. Fewer goods are circulated there, and less money becomes necessary to circulate them. An extraordinary quantity of paper money, of some sort or other, such as exchequer notes, navy bills, and bank bills in England, is generally issued upon such occasions, and by supplying the place of circulating gold and silver, gives an opportunity of sending a greater quantity of it abroad. All this, however, could afford but a poor resource for maintaining a foreign war of great expense and several years duration.

The melting down of the plate of private families has upon every occasion been found a still more insignificant one. The French, in the beginning of the last war, did not derive so much advantage from this expedient as to compensate the loss of the fashion.

The accumulated treasures of the prince have, in former times, afforded a much greater and more lasting resource. In the present times, if you except the King of Prussia, to accumulate treasure seems to be no part of the policy of European princes.

The funds which maintained the foreign wars of the present century, the most expensive perhaps which history records, seem to have had little dependency upon the exportation either of the circulating money, or of the plate of private families, or of the treasure of the prince. The last French war cost Great Britain upwards of ninety millions, including not only the seventy-five millions of new debt that was contracted, but the additional two shillings in the pound land-tax, and what was annually borrowed of the sinking fund. More than two-thirds of this expense were laid out in distant countries; in Germany, Portugal, America, in the ports of the Mediterranean, in the East and West Indies. The kings of England had no accumulated treasure. We never heard of any extraordinary quantity of plate being melted down. The circulating gold and silver of the country had not been supposed to exceed eighteen millions. Since the late recoinage of the gold, however, it is believed to have been a good deal under-rated. Let us suppose, therefore, according to the most exaggerated computation which I remember to have either seen or heard of, that, gold and silver together, it amounted to thirty millions. Had the war been carried on by means of our money, the whole of it must, even according to this computation, have been sent out and returned again at least twice in a period of between six and seven years. Should this be supposed, it would afford the most decisive argument to demonstrate how unnecessary it is for government to watch over the preservation of money, since upon this supposition the whole money of the country must have gone from it and returned to it again, two different times in so short a period, without anybody's knowing anything of the matter. The channel of circulation, however, never appeared more empty than usual during any part of this period. Few people wanted money who had wherewithal to pay for it. The profits of foreign trade, indeed, were greater than usual during the whole war; but especially towards the end of it. This occasioned, what it always occasions, a general over-trading in all the parts of Great Britain; and this again occasioned the usual complaint of the scarcity of money, which always follows over-trading. Many people wanted it, who had neither wherewithal to buy it, nor credit to borrow it; and because the debtors found it difficult to borrow, the creditors found it difficult to get payment. Gold and silver, however, were generally to be had for their value, by those who had that value to give for them.

The enormous expense of the late war, therefore, must have been chiefly defrayed, not by the exportation of gold and silver, but by that of British commodities of some kind or other. When the government, or those who acted under them, contracted with a merchant for a remittance to some foreign country, he would naturally endeavour to pay his foreign correspondent, upon whom he had granted a bill, by sending abroad rather commodities than gold and silver. If the commodities of Great Britain were not in demand in that country, he would endeavour to send them to some other country, in which he could purchase a bill upon that country. The transportation of commodities, when properly suited to the market, is always attended with a considerable profit; whereas that of gold and silver is scarce ever attended with any. When those metals are sent abroad in order to purchase foreign commodities, the merchant's profit arises, not from the purchase, but from the sale of the returns. But when they are sent abroad merely to pay a debt, he gets no returns, and consequently no profit. He naturally, therefore, exerts his invention to find out a way of paying his foreign debts rather by the exportation of commodities than by that of gold and silver. The great quantity of British goods exported during the course of the late war, without bringing back any returns, is accordingly remarked by the author of The Present State of the Nation.

Besides the three sorts of gold and silver above mentioned, there is in all great commercial countries a good deal of bullion alternately imported and exported for the purposes of foreign trade. This bullion, as it circulates among different commercial countries in the same manner as the national coin circulates in every particular country, may be considered as the money of the great mercantile republic. The national coin receives its movement and direction from the commodities circulated within the precincts of each particular country: the money of the mercantile republic, from those circulated between different countries. Both are employed in facilitating exchanges, the one between different individuals of the same, the other between those of different nations. Part of this money of the great mercantile republic may have been, and probably was, employed in carrying on the late war. In time of a general war, it is natural to suppose that a movement and direction should be impressed upon it, different from what it usually follows in profound peace; that it should circulate more about the seat of the war, and be more employed in purchasing there, and in the neighbouring countries, the pay and provisions of the different armies. But whatever part of this money of the mercantile republic Great Britain may have annually employed in this manner, it must have been annually purchased, either with British commodities, or with something else that had been purchased with them; which still brings us back to commodities, to the annual produce of the land and labour of the country, as the ultimate resources which enabled us to carry on the war. It is natural indeed to suppose that so great an annual expense must have been defrayed from a great annual produce. The expense of 1761, for example, amounted to more than nineteen millions. No accumulation could have supported so great an annual profusion. There is no annual produce even of gold and silver which could have supported it. The whole gold and silver annually imported into both Spain and Portugal, according to the best accounts, does not commonly much exceed six millions sterling, which, in some years, would scarce have paid four months' expense of the late war.

The commodities most proper for being transported to distant countries, in order to purchase there either the pay and provisions of an army, or some part of the money of the mercantile republic to be employed in purchasing them, seem to be the finer and more improved manufactures; such as contain a great value in a small bulk, and can, therefore, be exported to a great distance at little expense. A country whose industry produces a great annual surplus of such manufactures, which are usually exported to foreign countries, may carry on for many years a very expensive foreign war without either exporting any considerable quantity of gold and silver, or even having any such quantity to export. A considerable part of the annual surplus of its manufactures must, indeed, in this case be exported without bringing back any returns to the country, though it does to the merchant; the government purchasing of the merchant his bills upon foreign countries, in order to purchase there the pay and provisions of an army. Some part of this surplus, however, may still continue to bring back a return. The manufacturers, during the war, will have a double demand upon them, and be called upon, first, to work up goods to be sent abroad, for paying the bills drawn upon foreign countries for the pay and provisions of the army; and, secondly, to work up such as are necessary for purchasing the common returns that had usually been consumed in the country. In the midst of the most destructive foreign war, therefore, the greater part of manufactures may frequently flourish greatly; and, on the contrary, they may decline on the return of the peace. They may flourish amidst the ruin of their country, and begin to decay upon the return of its prosperity. The different state of many different branches of the British manufactures during the late war, and for some time after the peace, may serve as an illustration of what has been just now said.

No foreign war of great expense or duration could conveniently be carried on by the exportation of the rude produce of the soil. The expense of sending such a quantity of it to a foreign country as might purchase the pay and provisions of an army would be too great. Few countries produce much more rude produce than what is sufficient for the subsistence of their own inhabitants. To send abroad any great quantity of it, therefore, would be to send abroad a part of the necessary subsistence of the people. It is otherwise with the exportation of manufactures. The maintenance of the people employed in them is kept at home, and only the surplus part of their work is exported. Mr Hume frequently takes notice of the inability of the ancient kings of England to carry on, without interruption, any foreign war of long duration. The English, in those days, had nothing wherewithal to purchase the pay and provisions of their armies in foreign countries, but either the rude produce of the soil, of which no considerable part could be spared from the home consumption, or a few manufactures of the coarsest kind, of which, as well as of the rude produce, the transportation was too expensive. This inability did not arise from the want of money, but of the finer and more improved manufactures. Buying and selling was transacted by means of money in England then as well as now. The quantity of circulating money must have borne the same proportion to the number and value of purchases and sales usually transacted at that time, which it does to those transacted at present; or rather it must have borne a greater proportion, because there was then no paper, which now occupies a great part of the employment of gold and silver. Among nations to whom commerce and manufactures are little known, the sovereign, upon extraordinary occasions, can seldom draw any considerable aid from his subjects, for reasons which shall be explained hereafter. It is in such countries, therefore, that he generally endeavours to accumulate a treasure, as the only resource against such emergencies. Independent of this necessity, he is in such a situation naturally disposed to the parsimony requisite for accumulation. In that simple state, the expense even of a sovereign is not directed by the vanity which delights in the gaudy finery of a court, but is employed in bounty to his tenants, and hospitality to his retainers. But bounty and hospitality very seldom lead to extravagance; though vanity almost always does. Every Tartar chief, accordingly, has a treasure. The treasures of Mazepa, chief of the Cossacks in the Ukraine, the famous ally of Charles the th, are said to have been very great. The French kings of the Merovingian race had all treasures. When they divided their kingdom among their different children, they divided their treasure too. The Saxon princes, and the first kings after the conquest, seem likewise to have accumulated treasures. The first exploit of every new reign was commonly to seize the treasure of the preceding king, as the most essential measure for securing the succession. The sovereigns of improved and commercial countries are not under the same necessity of accumulating treasures, because they can generally draw from their subjects extraordinary aids upon extraordinary occasions. They are likewise less disposed to do so. They naturally, perhaps necessarily, follow the mode of the times, and their expense comes to be regulated by the same extravagant vanity which directs that of all the other great proprietors in their dominions. The insignificant pageantry of their court becomes every day more brilliant, and the expense of it not only prevents accumulation, but frequently encroaches upon the funds destined for more necessary expenses. What Dercyllidas said of the court of Persia may be applied to that of several European princes, that he saw there much splendour but little strength, and many servants but few soldiers.

The importation of gold and silver is not the principal, much less the sole benefit which a nation derives from its foreign trade. Between whatever places foreign trade is carried on, they all of them derive two distinct benefits from it. It carries out that surplus part of the produce of their land and labour for which there is no demand among them, and brings back in return for it something else for which there is a demand. It gives a value to their superfluities, by exchanging them for something else, which may satisfy a part of their wants, and increase their enjoyments. By means of it the narrowness of the home market does not hinder the division of labour in any particular branch of art or manufacture from being carried to the highest perfection. By opening a more extensive market for whatever part of the produce of their labour may exceed the home consumption, it encourages them to improve its productive powers, and to augment its annual produce to the utmost, and thereby to increase the real revenue and wealth of the society. These great and important services foreign trade is continually occupied in performing to all the different countries between which it is carried on. They all derive great benefit from it, though that in which the merchant resides generally derives the greatest, as he is generally more employed in supplying the wants, and carrying out the superfluities of his own, than of any other particular country. To import the gold and silver which may be wanted into the countries which have no mines is, no doubt, a part of the business of foreign commerce. It is, however, a most insignificant part of it. A country which carried on foreign trade merely upon this account could scarce have occasion to freight a ship in a century.

It is not by the importation of gold and silver that the discovery of America has enriched Europe. By the abundance of the American mines, those metals have become cheaper. A service of plate can now be purchased for about a third part of the corn, or a third part of the labour, which it would have cost in the fifteenth century. With the same annual expense of labour and commodities, Europe can annually purchase about three times the quantity of plate which it could have purchased at that time. But when a commodity comes to be sold for a third part of what had been its usual price, not only those who purchased it before can purchase three times their former quantity, but it is brought down to the level of a much greater number of purchasers, perhaps to more than ten, perhaps to more than twenty times the former number. So that there may be in Europe at present not only more than three times, but more than twenty or thirty times the quantity of plate which would have been in it, even in its present state of improvement, had the discovery of the American mines never been made. So far Europe has, no doubt, gained a real conveniency, though surely a very trifling one. The cheapness of gold and silver renders those metals rather less fit for the purposes of money than they were before. In order to make the same purchases, we must load ourselves with a greater quantity of them, and carry about a shilling in our pocket where a groat would have done before. It is difficult to say which is most trifling, this inconveniency or the opposite conveniency. Neither the one nor the other could have made any very essential change in the state of Europe. The discovery of America, however, certainly made a most essential one. By opening a new and inexhaustible market to all the commodities of Europe, it gave occasion to new divisions of labour and improvements of art, which, in the narrow circle of the ancient commerce, could never have taken place for want of a market to take off the greater part of their produce. The productive powers of labour were improved, and its produce increased in all the different countries of Europe, and together with it the real revenue and wealth of the inhabitants. The commodities of Europe were almost all new to America, and many of those of America were new to Europe. A new set of exchanges, therefore, began to take place which had never been thought of before, and which should naturally have proved as advantageous to the new, as it certainly did to the old continent. The savage injustice of the Europeans rendered an event, which ought to have been beneficial to all, ruinous and destructive to several of those unfortunate countries.

The discovery of a passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, which happened much about the same time, opened perhaps a still more extensive range to foreign commerce than even that of America, notwithstanding the greater distance. There were but two nations in America in any respect superior to savages, and these were destroyed almost as soon as discovered. The rest were mere savages. But the empires of China, Indostan, Japan, as well as several others in the East Indies, without having richer mines of gold or silver, were in every other respect much richer, better cultivated, and more advanced in all arts and manufactures than either Mexico or Peru, even though we should credit, what plainly deserves no credit, the exaggerated accounts of the Spanish writers concerning the ancient state of those empires. But rich and civilised nations can always exchange to a much greater value with one another than with savages and barbarians. Europe, however, has hitherto derived much less advantage from its commerce with the East Indies than from that with America. The Portuguese monopolised the East India trade to themselves for about a century, and it was only indirectly and through them that the other nations of Europe could either send out or receive any goods from that country. When the Dutch, in the beginning of the last century, began to encroach upon them, they vested their whole East India commerce in an exclusive company. The English, French, Swedes, and Danes have all followed their example, so that no great nation in Europe has ever yet had the benefit of a free commerce to the East Indies. No other reason need be assigned why it has never been so advantageous as the trade to America, which, between almost every nation of Europe and its own colonies, is free to all its subjects. The exclusive privileges of those East India companies, their great riches, the great favour and protection which these have procured them from their respective governments, have excited much envy against them. This envy has frequently represented their trade as altogether pernicious, on account of the great quantities of silver which it every year exports from the countries from which it is carried on. The parties concerned have replied that their trade, by this continual exportation of silver, might indeed tend to impoverish Europe in general, but not the particular country from which it was carried on; because, by the exportation of a part of the returns to other European countries, it annually brought home a much greater quantity of that metal than it carried out. Both the objection and the reply are founded in the popular notion which I have been just now examining. It is therefore unnecessary to say anything further about either. By the annual exportation of silver to the East Indies, plate is probably somewhat dearer in Europe than it otherwise might have been; and coined silver probably purchases a larger quantity both of labour and commodities. The former of these two effects is a very small loss, the latter a very small advantage; both too insignificant to deserve any part of the public attention. The trade to the East Indies, by opening a market to the commodities of Europe, or, what comes nearly to the same thing, to the gold and silver which is purchased with those commodities, must necessarily tend to increase the annual production of European commodities, and consequently the real wealth and revenue of Europe. That it has hitherto increased them so little is probably owing to the restraints which it everywhere labours under.

I thought it necessary, though at the hazard of being tedious, to examine at full length this popular notion that wealth consists in money, or in gold and silver. Money in common language, as I have already observed, frequently signifies wealth, and this ambiguity of expression has rendered this popular notion so familiar to us that even they who are convinced of its absurdity are very apt to forget their own principles, and in the course of their reasonings to take it for granted as a certain and undeniable truth. Some of the best English writers upon commerce set out with observing that the wealth of a country consists, not in its gold and silver only, but in its lands, houses, and consumable goods of all different kinds. In the course of their reasonings, however, the lands, houses, and consumable goods seem to slip out of their memory, and the strain of their argument frequently supposes that all wealth consists in gold and silver, and that to multiply those metals is the great object of national industry and commerce.

The two principles being established, however, that wealth consisted in gold and silver, and that those metals could be brought into a country which had no mines only by the balance of trade, or by exporting to a greater value than it imported, it necessarily became the great object of political economy to diminish as much as possible the importation of foreign goods for home consumption, and to increase as much as possible the exportation of the produce of domestic industry. Its two great engines for enriching the country, therefore, were restraints upon importation, and encouragements to exportation.

The restraints upon importation were of two kinds.

First, restraints upon the importation of such foreign goods for home consumption as could be produced at home, from whatever country they were imported.

Secondly, restraints upon the importation of goods of almost all kinds from those particular countries with which the balance of trade was supposed to be disadvantageous.

Those different restraints consisted sometimes in high duties, and sometimes in absolute prohibitions.

Exportation was encouraged sometimes by drawbacks, sometimes by bounties, sometimes by advantageous treaties of commerce with foreign states, and sometimes by the establishment of colonies in distant countries.

Drawbacks were given upon two different occasions. When the home manufactures were subject to any duty or excise, either the whole or a part of it was frequently drawn back upon their exportation; and when foreign goods liable to a duty were imported in order to be exported again, either the whole or a part of this duty was sometimes given back upon such exportation.

Bounties were given for the encouragement either of some beginning manufactures, or of such sorts of industry of other kinds as were supposed to deserve particular favour.

By advantageous treaties of commerce, particular privileges were procured in some foreign state for the goods and merchants of the country, beyond what were granted to those of other countries.

By the establishment of colonies in distant countries, not only particular privileges, but a monopoly was frequently procured for the goods and merchants of the country which established them.

The two sorts of restraints upon importation abovementioned, together with these four encouragements to exportation, constitute the six principal means by which the commercial system proposes to increase the quantity of gold and silver in any country by turning the balance of trade in its favour. I shall consider each of them in a particular chapter, and without taking much further notice of their supposed tendency to bring money into the country, I shall examine chiefly what are likely to be the effects of each of them upon the annual produce of its industry. According as they tend either to increase or diminish the value of this annual produce, they must evidently tend either to increase or diminish the real wealth and revenue of the country.

4
Restraints on the Importation of Goods

By restraining, either by high duties or by absolute prohibitions, the importation of such goods from foreign countries as can be produced at home, the monopoly of the home market is more or less secured to the domestic industry employed in producing them. Thus the prohibition of importing either live cattle or salt provisions from foreign countries secures to the graziers of Great Britain the monopoly of the home market for butcher's meat. The high duties upon the importation of corn, which in times of moderate plenty amount to a prohibition, give a like advantage to the growers of that commodity. The prohibition of the importation of foreign woollens is equally favourable to the woollen manufacturers. The silk manufacture, though altogether employed upon foreign materials, has lately obtained the same advantage. The linen manufacture has not yet obtained it, but is making great strides towards it. Many other sorts of manufacturers have, in the same manner, obtained in Great Britain, either altogether or very nearly, a monopoly against their countrymen. The variety of goods of which the importation into Great Britain is prohibited, either absolutely, or under certain circumstances, greatly exceeds what can easily be suspected by those who are not well acquainted with the laws of the customs.

That this monopoly of the home market frequently gives great encouragement to that particular species of industry which enjoys it, and frequently turns towards that employment a greater share of both the labour and stock of the society than would otherwise have gone to it, cannot be doubted. But whether it tends either to increase the general industry of the society, or to give it the most advantageous direction, is not, perhaps, altogether so evident.

The general industry of the society never can exceed what the capital of the society can employ. As the number of workmen that can be kept in employment by any particular person must bear a certain proportion to his capital, so the number of those that can be continually employed by all the members of a great society must bear a certain proportion to the whole capital of that society, and never can exceed that proportion. No regulation of commerce can increase the quantity of industry in any society beyond what its capital can maintain. It can only divert a part of it into a direction into which it might not otherwise have gone; and it is by no means certain that this artificial direction is likely to be more advantageous to the society than that into which it would have gone of its own accord.

Every individual is continually exerting himself to find out the most advantageous employment for whatever capital he can command. It is his own advantage, indeed, and not that of the society, which he has in view. But the study of his own advantage naturally, or rather necessarily, leads him to prefer that employment which is most advantageous to the society.

First, every individual endeavours to employ his capital as near home as he can, and consequently as much as he can in the support of domestic industry; provided always that he can thereby obtain the ordinary, or not a great deal less than the ordinary profits of stock.

Thus, upon equal or nearly equal profits, every wholesale merchant naturally prefers the home trade to the foreign trade of consumption, and the foreign trade of consumption to the carrying trade. In the home trade his capital is never so long out of his sight as it frequently is in the foreign trade of consumption. He can know better the character and situation of the persons whom he trusts, and if he should happen to be deceived, he knows better the laws of the country from which he must seek redress. In the carrying trade, the capital of the merchant is, as it were, divided between two foreign countries, and no part of it is ever necessarily brought home, or placed under his own immediate view and command. The capital which an Amsterdam merchant employs in carrying corn from Konnigsberg to Lisbon, and fruit and wine from Lisbon to Konnigsberg, must generally be the one-half of it at Konnigsberg and the other half at Lisbon. No part of it need ever come to Amsterdam. The natural residence of such a merchant should either be at Konnigsberg or Lisbon, and it can only be some very particular circumstances which can make him prefer the residence of Amsterdam. The uneasiness, however, which he feels at being separated so far from his capital generally determines him to bring part both of the Konnigsberg goods which he destines for the market of Lisbon, and of the Lisbon goods which he destines for that of Konnigsberg, to Amsterdam: and though this necessarily subjects him to a double charge of loading and unloading, as well as to the payment of some duties and customs, yet for the sake of having some part of his capital always under his own view and command, he willingly submits to this extraordinary charge; and it is in this manner that every country which has any considerable share of the carrying trade becomes always the emporium, or general market, for the goods of all the different countries whose trade it carries on. The merchant, in order to save a second loading and unloading, endeavours always to sell in the home market as much of the goods of all those different countries as he can, and thus, so far as he can, to convert his carrying trade into a foreign trade of consumption. A merchant, in the same manner, who is engaged in the foreign trade of consumption, when he collects goods for foreign markets, will always be glad, upon equal or nearly equal profits, to sell as great a part of them at home as he can. He saves himself the risk and trouble of exportation, when, so far as he can, he thus converts his foreign trade of consumption into a home trade. Home is in this manner the centre, if I may say so, round which the capitals of the inhabitants of every country are continually circulating, and towards which they are always tending, though by particular causes they may sometimes be driven off and repelled from it towards more distant employments. But a capital employed in the home trade, it has already been shown, necessarily puts into motion a greater quantity of domestic industry, and gives revenue and employment to a greater number of the inhabitants of the country, than an equal capital employed in the foreign trade of consumption: and one employed in the foreign trade of consumption has the same advantage over an equal capital employed in the carrying trade. Upon equal, or only nearly equal profits, therefore, every individual naturally inclines to employ his capital in the manner in which it is likely to afford the greatest support to domestic industry, and to give revenue and employment to the greatest number of people of his own country.

Secondly, every individual who employs his capital in the support of domestic industry, necessarily endeavours so to direct that industry that its produce may be of the greatest possible value.

The produce of industry is what it adds to the subject or materials upon which it is employed. In proportion as the value of this produce is great or small, so will likewise be the profits of the employer. But it is only for the sake of profit that any man employs a capital in the support of industry; and he will always, therefore, endeavour to employ it in the support of that industry of which the produce is likely to be of the greatest value, or to exchange for the greatest quantity either of money or of other goods.

But the annual revenue of every society is always precisely equal to the exchangeable value of the whole annual produce of its industry, or rather is precisely the same thing with that exchangeable value. As every individual, therefore, endeavours as much as he can both to employ his capital in the support of domestic industry, and so to direct that industry that its produce may be of the greatest value; every individual necessarily labours to render the annual revenue of the society as great as he can. He generally, indeed, neither intends to promote the public interest, nor knows how much he is promoting it. By preferring the support of domestic to that of foreign industry, he intends only his own security; and by directing that industry in such a manner as its produce may be of the greatest value, he intends only his own gain, and he is in this, as in many other cases, led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was no part of his intention. Nor is it always the worse for the society that it was no part of it. By pursuing his own interest he frequently promotes that of the society more effectually than when he really intends to promote it. I have never known much good done by those who affected to trade for the public good. It is an affectation, indeed, not very common among merchants, and very few words need be employed in dissuading them from it.

What is the species of domestic industry which his capital can employ, and of which the produce is likely to be of the greatest value, every individual, it is evident, can, in his local situation, judge much better than any statesman or law-giver can do for him. The statesman who should attempt to direct private people in what manner they ought to employ their capitals would not only load himself with a most unnecessary attention, but assume an authority which could safely be trusted, not only to no single person, but to no council or senate whatever, and which would nowhere be so dangerous as in the hands of a man who had folly and presumption enough to fancy himself fit to exercise it.

To give the monopoly of the home market to the produce of domestic industry, in any particular art or manufacture, is in some measure to direct private people in what manner they ought to employ their capitals, and must, in almost all cases, be either a useless or a hurtful regulation. If the produce of domestic can be brought there as cheap as that of foreign industry, the regulation is evidently useless. If it cannot, it must generally be hurtful. It is the maxim of every prudent master of a family never to attempt to make at home what it will cost him more to make than to buy. The tailor does not attempt to make his own shoes, but buys them off the shoemaker. The shoemaker does not attempt to make his own clothes, but employs a tailor. The farmer attempts to make neither the one nor the other, but employs those different artificers. All of them find it for their interest to employ their whole industry in a way in which they have some advantage over their neighbours, and to purchase with a part of its produce, or what is the same thing, with the price of a part of it, whatever else they have occasion for.

What is prudence in the conduct of every private family can scarce be folly in that of a great kingdom. If a foreign country can supply us with a commodity cheaper than we ourselves can make it, better buy it off them with some part of the produce of our own industry employed in a way in which we have some advantage. The general industry of the country, being always in proportion to the capital which employs it, will not thereby be diminished, no more than that of the above-mentioned artificers; but only left to find out the way in which it can be employed with the greatest advantage. It is certainly not employed to the greatest advantage when it is thus directed towards an object which it can buy cheaper than it can make. The value of its annual produce is certainly more or less diminished when it is thus turned away from producing commodities evidently of more value than the commodity which it is directed to produce. According to the supposition, that commodity could be purchased from foreign countries cheaper than it can be made at home. It could, therefore, have been purchased with a part only of the commodities, or, what is the same thing, with a part only of the price of the commodities, which the industry employed by an equal capital would have produced at home, had it been left to follow its natural course. The industry of the country, therefore, is thus turned away from a more to a less advantageous employment, and the exchangeable value of its annual produce, instead of being increased, according to the intention of the lawgiver, must necessarily be diminished by every such regulation.

By means of such regulations, indeed, a particular manufacture may sometimes be acquired sooner than it could have been otherwise, and after a certain time may be made at home as cheap or cheaper than in the foreign country. But though the industry of the society may be thus carried with advantage into a particular channel sooner than it could have been otherwise, it will by no means follow that the sum total, either of its industry, or of its revenue, can ever be augmented by any such regulation. The industry of the society can augment only in proportion as its capital augments, and its capital can augment only in proportion to what can be gradually saved out of its revenue. But the immediate effect of every such regulation is to diminish its revenue, and what diminishes its revenue is certainly not very likely to augment its capital faster than it would have augmented of its own accord had both capital and industry been left to find out their natural employments.

Though for want of such regulations the society should never acquire the proposed manufacture, it would not, upon that account, necessarily be the poorer in any one period of its duration. In every period of its duration its whole capital and industry might still have been employed, though upon different objects, in the manner that was most advantageous at the time. In every period its revenue might have been the greatest which its capital could afford, and both capital and revenue might have been augmented with the greatest possible rapidity.

The natural advantages which one country has over another in producing particular commodities are sometimes so great that it is acknowledged by all the world to be in vain to struggle with them. By means of glasses, hotbeds, and hot walls, very good grapes can be raised in Scotland, and very good wine too can be made of them at about thirty times the expense for which at least equally good can be brought from foreign countries. Would it be a reasonable law to prohibit the importation of all foreign wines merely to encourage the making of claret and burgundy in Scotland? But if there would be a manifest absurdity in turning towards any employment thirty times more of the capital and industry of the country than would be necessary to purchase from foreign countries an equal quantity of the commodities wanted, there must be an absurdity, though not altogether so glaring, yet exactly of the same kind, in turning towards any such employment a thirtieth, or even a three-hundredth part more of either. Whether the advantages which one country has over another be natural or acquired is in this respect of no consequence. As long as the one country has those advantages, and the other wants them, it will always be more advantageous for the latter rather to buy off the former than to make. It is an acquired advantage only, which one artificer has over his neighbour, who exercises another trade; and yet they both find it more advantageous to buy off one another than to make what does not belong to their particular trades.

Merchants and manufacturers are the people who derive the greatest advantage from this monopoly of the home market. The prohibition of the importation of foreign cattle, and of salt provisions, together with the high duties upon foreign corn, which in times of moderate plenty amount to a prohibition, are not near so advantageous to the graziers and farmers of Great Britain as other regulations of the same kind are to its merchants and manufacturers. Manufactures, those of the finer kind especially, are more easily transported from one country to another than corn or cattle. It is in the fetching and carrying manufactures, accordingly, that foreign trade is chiefly employed. In manufactures, a very small advantage will enable foreigners to undersell our own workmen, even in the home market. It will require a very great one to enable them to do so in the rude produce of the soil. If the free importation of foreign manufactures were permitted, several of the home manufactures would probably suffer, and some of them, perhaps, go to ruin altogether, and a considerable part of the stock and industry at present employed in them would be forced to find out some other employment. But the freest importation of the rude produce of the soil could have no such effect upon the agriculture of the country.

If the importation of foreign cattle, for example, were made ever so free, so few could be imported that the grazing trade of Great Britain could be little affected by it. Live cattle are, perhaps, the only commodity of which the transportation is more expensive by sea than by land. By land they carry themselves to market. By sea, not only the cattle, but their food and their water too, must be carried at no small expense and inconveniency. The short sea between Ireland and Great Britain, indeed, renders the importation of Irish cattle more easy. But though the free importation of them, which was lately permitted only for a limited time, were rendered perpetual, it could have no considerable effect upon the interest of the graziers of Great Britain. Those parts of Great Britain which border upon the Irish Sea are all grazing countries. Irish cattle could never be imported for their use, but must be driven through those very extensive countries, at no small expense and inconveniency, before they could arrive at their proper market. Fat cattle could not be driven so far. Lean cattle, therefore, only could be imported, and such importation could interfere, not with the interest of the feeding or fattening countries, to which, by reducing the price of lean cattle, it would rather be advantageous, but with that of the breeding countries only. The small number of Irish cattle imported since their importation was permitted, together with the good price at which lean cattle still continue to sell, seem to demonstrate that even the breeding countries of Great Britain are never likely to be much affected by the free importation of Irish cattle. The common people of Ireland, indeed, are said to have sometimes opposed with violence the exportation of their cattle. But if the exporters had found any great advantage in continuing the trade, they could easily, when the law was on their side, have conquered this mobbish opposition.

Feeding and fattening countries, besides, must always be highly improved, whereas breeding countries are generally uncultivated. The high price of lean cattle, by augmenting the value of uncultivated land, is like a bounty against improvement. To any country which was highly improved throughout, it would be more advantageous to import its lean cattle than to breed them. The province of Holland, accordingly, is said to follow this maxim at present. The mountains of Scotland, Wales, and Northumberland, indeed, are countries not capable of much improvement, and seem destined by nature to be the breeding countries of Great Britain. The freest importation of foreign cattle could have no other effect than to hinder those breeding countries from taking advantage of the increasing population and improvement of the rest of the kingdom, from raising their price to an exorbitant height, and from laying a real tax upon all the more improved and cultivated parts of the country.

The freest importation of salt provisions, in the same manner, could have as little effect upon the interest of the graziers of Great Britain as that of live cattle. Salt provisions are not only a very bulky commodity, but when compared with fresh meat, they are a commodity both of worse quality, and as they cost more labour and expense, of higher price. They could never, therefore, come into competition with the fresh meat, though they might with the salt provisions of the country. They might be used for victualling ships for distant voyages and such like uses, but could never make any considerable part of the food of the people. The small quantity of salt provisions imported from Ireland since their importation was rendered free is an experimental proof that our graziers have nothing to apprehend from it. It does not appear that the price of butcher's meat has ever been sensibly affected by it.

Even the free importation of foreign corn could very little affect the interest of the farmers of Great Britain. Corn is a much more bulky commodity than butcher's meat. A pound of wheat at a penny is as dear as a pound of butcher's meat at fourpence. The small quantity of foreign corn imported even in times of the greatest scarcity may satisfy our farmers that they can have nothing to fear from the freest importation. The average quantity imported, one year with another, amounts only, according to the very well informed author of the tracts upon the corn trade, to twenty-three thousand seven hundred and twenty-eight quarters of all sorts of grain, and does not exceed the five hundred and seventy-first part of the annual consumption. But as the bounty upon corn occasions a greater exportation in years of plenty, so it must of consequence occasion a greater importation in years of scarcity than in the actual state of tillage would otherwise take place. By means of it the plenty of one year does not compensate the scarcity of another, and as the average quantity exported is necessarily augmented by it, so must likewise, in the actual state of tillage, the average quantity imported. If there were no bounty, as less corn would be exported, so it is probable that, one year with another, less would be imported than at present. The corn merchants, the fetchers and carriers of corn between Great Britain and foreign countries would have much less employment, and might suffer considerably; but the country gentlemen and farmers could suffer very little. It is in the corn merchants accordingly, rather than in the country gentlemen and farmers, that I have observed the greatest anxiety for the renewal and continuation of the bounty.

Country gentlemen and farmers are, to their great honour, of all people, the least subject to the wretched spirit of monopoly. The undertaker of a great manufactory is sometimes alarmed if another work of the same kind is established within twenty miles of him. The Dutch undertaker of the woollen manufacture at Abbeville stipulated that no work of the same kind should be established within thirty leagues of that city. Farmers and country gentlemen, on the contrary, are generally disposed rather to promote than to obstruct the cultivation and improvement of their neighbours' farms and estates. They have no secrets such as those of the greater part of manufacturers, but are generally rather fond of communicating to their neighbours and of extending as far as possible any new practice which they have found to be advantageous. Pius Questus, says old Cato, stabilissimusque, minimeque invidiosus; minimeque male cogitantes sunt, qui in eo studio occupati sunt. Country gentlemen and farmers, dispersed in different parts of the country, cannot so easily combine as merchants and manufacturers, who, being collected into towns, and accustomed to that exclusive corporation spirit which prevails in them, naturally endeavour to obtain against all their countrymen the same exclusive privilege which they generally possess against the inhabitants of their respective towns. They accordingly seem to have been the original inventors of those restraints upon the importation of foreign goods which secure to them the monopoly of the home market. It was probably in imitation of them, and to put themselves upon a level with those who, they found, were disposed to oppress them, that the country gentlemen and farmers of Great Britain so far forgot the generosity which is natural to their station as to demand the exclusive privilege of supplying their countrymen with corn and butcher's meat. They did not perhaps take time to consider how much less their interest could be affected by the freedom of trade than that of the people whose example they followed.

To prohibit by a perpetual law the importation of foreign corn and cattle is in reality to enact that the population and industry of the country shall at no time exceed what the rude produce of its own soil can maintain.

There seem, however, to be two cases in which it will generally be advantageous to lay some burden upon foreign for the encouragement of domestic industry.

The first is, when some particular sort of industry is necessary for the defence of the country. The defence of Great Britain, for example, depends very much upon the number of its sailors and shipping. The act of navigation, therefore, very properly endeavours to give the sailors and shipping of Great Britain the monopoly of the trade of their own country, in some cases by absolute prohibitions and in others by heavy burdens upon the shipping of foreign countries. The following are the principal dispositions of this act.

First, all ships, of which the owners and three-fourths of the mariners are not British subjects, are prohibited, upon pain of forfeiting ship and cargo, from trading to the British settlements and plantations, or from being employed in the coasting trade of Great Britain.

Secondly, a great variety of the most bulky articles of importation can be brought into Great Britain only, either in such ships as are above described, or in ships of the country where those goods are purchased, and of which the owners, masters, and three-fourths of the mariners are of that particular country; and when imported even in ships of this latter kind, they are subject to double aliens' duty. If imported in ships of any other country, the penalty is forfeiture of ship and goods. When this act was made, the Dutch were, what they still are, the great carriers of Europe, and by this regulation they were entirely excluded from being the carriers to Great Britain, or from importing to us the goods of any other European country.

Thirdly, a great variety of the most bulky articles of importation are prohibited from being imported, even in British ships, from any country but that in which they are produced, under pain of forfeiting ship and cargo. This regulation, too, was probably intended against the Dutch. Holland was then, as now, the great emporium for all European goods, and by this regulation British ships were hindered from loading in Holland the goods of any other European country.

Fourthly, salt fish of all kinds, whale-fins, whale-bone, oil, and blubber, not caught by and cured on board British vessels, when imported into Great Britain, are subjected to double aliens' duty. The Dutch, as they are still the principal, were then the only fishers in Europe that attempted to supply foreign nations with fish. By this regulation, a very heavy burden was laid upon their supplying Great Britain.

When the act of navigation was made, though England and Holland were not actually at war, the most violent animosity subsisted between the two nations. It had begun during the government of the Long Parliament, which first framed this act, and it broke out soon after in the Dutch wars during that of the Protector and of Charles the Second. It is not impossible, therefore, that some of the regulations of this famous act may have proceeded from national animosity. They are as wise, however, as if they had all been dictated by the most deliberate wisdom. National animosity at that particular time aimed at the very same object which the most deliberate wisdom would have recommended, the diminution of the naval power of Holland, the only naval power which could endanger the security of England.

The act of navigation is not favourable to foreign commerce, or to the growth of that opulence which can arise from it. The interest of a nation in its commercial relations to foreign nations is, like that of a merchant with regard to the different people with whom he deals, to buy as cheap and to sell as dear as possible. But it will be most likely to buy cheap, when by the most perfect freedom of trade it encourages all nations to bring to it the goods which it has occasion to purchase; and, for the same reason, it will be most likely to sell dear, when its markets are thus filled with the greatest number of buyers. The act of navigation, it is true, lays no burden upon foreign ships that come to export the produce of British industry. Even the ancient aliens' duty, which used to be paid upon all goods exported as well as imported, has, by several subsequent acts, been taken off from the greater part of the articles of exportation. But if foreigners, either by prohibitions or high duties, are hindered from coming to sell, they cannot always afford to come to buy; because coming without a cargo, they must lose the freight from their own country to Great Britain. By diminishing the number of sellers, therefore, we necessarily diminish that of buyers, and are thus likely not only to buy foreign goods dearer, but to sell our own cheaper, than if there was a more perfect freedom of trade. As defence, however, is of much more importance than opulence, the act of navigation is, perhaps, the wisest of all the commercial regulations of England.

The second case, in which it will generally be advantageous to lay some burden upon foreign for the encouragement of domestic industry is, when some tax is imposed at home upon the produce of the latter. In this case, it seems reasonable that an equal tax should be imposed upon the like produce of the former. This would not give the monopoly of the home market to domestic industry, nor turn towards a particular employment a greater share of the stock and labour of the country than what would naturally go to it. It would only hinder any part of what would naturally go to it from being turned away by the tax into a less natural direction, and would leave the competition between foreign and domestic industry, after the tax, as nearly as possible upon the same footing as before it. In Great Britain, when any such tax is laid upon the produce of domestic industry, it is usual at the same time, in order to stop the clamorous complaints of our merchants and manufacturers that they will be undersold at home, to lay a much heavier duty upon the importation of all foreign goods of the same kind.

This second limitation of the freedom of trade according to some people should, upon some occasions, be extended much farther than to the precise foreign commodities which could come into competition with those which had been taxed at home. When the necessaries of life have been taxed in any country, it becomes proper, they pretend, to tax not only the like necessaries of life imported from other countries, but all sorts of foreign goods which can come into competition with anything that is the produce of domestic industry. Subsistence, they say, becomes necessarily dearer in consequence of such taxes; and the price of labour must always rise with the price of the labourers' subsistence. Every commodity, therefore, which is the produce of domestic industry, though not immediately taxed itself, becomes dearer in consequence of such taxes, because the labour which produces it becomes so. Such taxes, therefore, are really equivalent, they say, to a tax upon every particular commodity produced at home. In order to put domestic upon the same footing with foreign industry, therefore, it becomes necessary, they think, to lay some duty upon every foreign commodity equal to this enhancement of the price of the home commodities with which it can come into competition.

Whether taxes upon the necessaries of life, such as those in Great Britain upon soap, salt, leather, candles, etc, necessarily raise the price of labour, and consequently that of all other commodities, I shall consider hereafter when I come to treat of taxes. Supposing, however, in the meantime, that they have this effect, and they have it undoubtedly, this general enhancement of the price of all commodities, in consequence of that of labour, is a case which differs in the two following respects from that of a particular commodity of which the price was enhanced by a particular tax immediately imposed upon it.

First, it might always be known with great exactness how far the price of such a commodity could be enhanced by such a tax: but how far the general enhancement of the price of labour might affect that of every different commodity about which labour was employed could never be known with any tolerable exactness. It would be impossible, therefore, to proportion with any tolerable exactness the tax upon every foreign to this enhancement of the price of every home commodity.

Secondly, taxes upon the necessaries of life have nearly the same effect upon the circumstances of the people as a poor soil and a bad climate. Provisions are thereby rendered dearer in the same manner as if it required extraordinary labour and expense to raise them. As in the natural scarcity arising from soil and climate it would be absurd to direct the people in what manner they ought to employ their capitals and industry, so is it likewise in the artificial scarcity arising from such taxes. To be left to accommodate, as well as they could, their industry to their situation, and to find out those employments in which, notwithstanding their unfavourable circumstances, they might have some advantage either in the home or in the foreign market, is what in both cases would evidently be most for their advantage. To lay a new tax upon them, because they are already overburdened with taxes, and because they already pay too dear for the necessaries of life, to make them likewise pay too dear for the greater part of other commodities, is certainly a most absurd way of making amends.

Such taxes, when they have grown up to a certain height, are a curse equal to the barrenness of the earth and the inclemency of the heavens; and yet it is in the richest and most industrious countries that they have been most generally imposed. No other countries could support so great a disorder. As the strongest bodies only can live and enjoy health under an unwholesome regimen, so the nations only that in every sort of industry have the greatest natural and acquired advantages can subsist and prosper under such taxes. Holland is the country in Europe in which they abound most, and which from peculiar circumstances continues to prosper, not by means of them, as has been most absurdly supposed, but in spite of them.

As there are two cases in which it will generally be advantageous to lay some burden upon foreign for the encouragement of domestic industry, so there are two others in which it may sometimes be a matter of deliberation; in the one, how far it is proper to continue the free importation of certain foreign goods; and in the other, how far, or in what manner, it may be proper to restore that free importation after it has been for some time interrupted.

The case in which it may sometimes be a matter of deliberation how far it is proper to continue the free importation of certain foreign goods is, when some foreign nation restrains by high duties or prohibitions the importation of some of our manufactures into their country. Revenge in this case naturally dictates retaliation, and that we should impose the like duties and prohibitions upon the importation of some or all of their manufactures into ours. Nations, accordingly, seldom fail to retaliate in this manner. The French have been particularly forward to favour their own manufactures by restraining the importation of such foreign goods as could come into competition with them. In this consisted a great part of the policy of Mr Colbert, who, notwithstanding his great abilities, seems in this case to have been imposed upon by the sophistry of merchants and manufacturers, who are always demanding a monopoly against their countrymen. It is at present the opinion of the most intelligent men in France that his operations of this kind have not been beneficial to his country. That minister, by the tariff of 1667, imposed very high duties upon a great number of foreign manufactures. Upon his refusing to moderate them in favour of the Dutch, they in 1671 prohibited the importation of the wines, brandies, and manufactures of France. The war of 1672 seems to have been in part occasioned by this commercial dispute. The peace of Nimeguen put an end to it in 1678 by moderating some of those duties in favour of the Dutch, who in consequence took off their prohibition. It was about the same time that the French and English began mutually to oppress each other's industry by the like duties and prohibitions, of which the French, however, seem to have set the first example. The spirit of hostility which has subsisted between the two nations ever since has hitherto hindered them from being moderated on either side. In 1697 the English prohibited the importation of bonelace, the manufacture of Flanders. The government of that country, at that time under the dominion of Spain, prohibited in return the importation of English woollens. In 1700, the prohibition of importing bonelace into England was taken off upon condition that the importation of English woollens into Flanders should be put on the same footing as before.

There may be good policy in retaliations of this kind, when there is a probability that they will procure the repeal of the high duties or prohibitions complained of. The recovery of a great foreign market will generally more than compensate the transitory inconveniency of paying dearer during a short time for some sorts of goods. To judge whether such retaliations are likely to produce such an effect does not, perhaps, belong so much to the science of a legislator, whose deliberations ought to be governed by general principles which are always the same, as to the skill of that insidious and crafty animal, vulgarly called a statesman or politician, whose councils are directed by the momentary fluctuations of affairs. When there is no probability that any such repeal can be procured, it seems a bad method of compensating the injury done to certain classes of our people to do another injury ourselves, not only to those classes, but to almost all the other classes of them. When our neighbours prohibit some manufacture of ours, we generally prohibit, not only the same, for that alone would seldom affect them considerably, but some other manufacture of theirs. This may no doubt give encouragement to some particular class of workmen among ourselves, and by excluding some of their rivals, may enable them to raise their price in the home market. Those workmen, however, who suffered by our neighbours' prohibition will not be benefited by ours. On the contrary, they and almost all the other classes of our citizens will thereby be obliged to pay dearer than before for certain goods. Every such law, therefore, imposes a real tax upon the whole country, not in favour of that particular class of workmen who were injured by our neighbours' prohibition, but of some other class.

The case in which it may sometimes be a matter of deliberation, how far, or in what manner, it is proper to restore the free importation of foreign goods, after it has been for some time interrupted, is, when particular manufactures, by means of high duties or prohibitions upon all foreign goods which can come into competition with them, have been so far extended as to employ a great multitude of hands. Humanity may in this case require that the freedom of trade should be restored only by slow gradations, and with a good deal of reserve and circumspection. Were those high duties and prohibitions taken away all at once, cheaper foreign goods of the same kind might be poured so fast into the home market as to deprive all at once many thousands of our people of their ordinary employment and means of subsistence. The disorder which this would occasion might no doubt be very considerable. It would in all probability, however, be much less than is commonly imagined, for the two following reasons:—

First, all those manufactures, of which any part is commonly exported to other European countries without a bounty, could be very little affected by the freest importation of foreign goods. Such manufactures must be sold as cheap abroad as any other foreign goods of the same quality and kind, and consequently must be sold cheaper at home. They would still, therefore, keep possession of the home market, and though a capricious man of fashion might sometimes prefer foreign wares, merely because they were foreign, to cheaper and better goods of the same kind that were made at home, this folly could, from the nature of things, extend to so few that it could make no sensible impression upon the general employment of the people. But a great part of all the different branches of our woollen manufacture, of our tanned leather, and of our hardware, are annually exported to other European countries without any bounty, and these are the manufactures which employ the greatest number of hands. The silk, perhaps, is the manufacture which would suffer the most by this freedom of trade, and after it the linen, though the latter much less than the former.

Secondly, though a great number of people should, by thus restoring the freedom of trade, be thrown all at once out of their ordinary employment and common method of subsistence, it would by no means follow that they would thereby be deprived either of employment or subsistence. By the reduction of the army and navy at the end of the late war, more than a hundred thousand soldiers and seamen, a number equal to what is employed in the greatest manufactures, were all at once thrown out of their ordinary employment; but, though they no doubt suffered some inconveniency, they were not thereby deprived of all employment and subsistence. The greater part of the seamen, it is probable, gradually betook themselves to the merchant service as they could find occasion, and in the meantime both they and the soldiers were absorbed in the great mass of the people, and employed in a great variety of occupations. Not only no great convulsion, but no sensible disorder arose from so great a change in the situation of more than a hundred thousand men, all accustomed to the use of arms, and many of them to rapine and plunder. The number of vagrants was scarce anywhere sensibly increased by it, even the wages of labour were not reduced by it in any occupation, so far as I have been able to learn, except in that of seamen in the merchant service. But if we compare together the habits of a soldier and of any sort of manufacturer, we shall find that those of the latter do not tend so much to disqualify him from being employed in a new trade, as those of the former from being employed in any. The manufacturer has always been accustomed to look for his subsistence from his labour only: the soldier to expect it from his pay. Application and industry have been familiar to the one; idleness and dissipation to the other. But it is surely much easier to change the direction of industry from one sort of labour to another than to turn idleness and dissipation to any. To the greater part of manufactures besides, it has already been observed, there are other collateral manufactures of so similar a nature that a workman can easily transfer his industry from one of them to another. The greater part of such workmen too are occasionally employed in country labour. The stock which employed them in a particular manufacture before will still remain in the country to employ an equal number of people in some other way. The capital of the country remaining the same, the demand for labour will likewise be the same, or very nearly the same, though it may be exerted in different places and for different occupations. Soldiers and seamen, indeed, when discharged from the king's service, are at liberty to exercise any trade, within any town or place of Great Britain or Ireland. Let the same natural liberty of exercising what species of industry they please, be restored to all his Majesty's subjects, in the same manner as to soldiers and seamen; that is, break down the exclusive privileges of corporations, and repeal the statute of apprenticeship, both which are real encroachments upon natural liberty, and add to these the repeal of the law of settlements, so that a poor workman, when thrown out of employment either in one trade or in one place, may seek for it in another trade or in another place without the fear either of a prosecution or of a removal, and neither the public nor the individuals will suffer much more from the occasional disbanding some particular classes of manufacturers than from that of soldiers. Our manufacturers have no doubt great merit with their country, but they cannot have more than those who defend it with their blood, nor deserve to be treated with more delicacy.

To expect, indeed, that the freedom of trade should ever be entirely restored in Great Britain is as absurd as to expect that an Oceana or Utopia should ever be established in it. Not only the prejudices of the public, but what is much more unconquerable, the private interests of many individuals, irresistibly oppose it. Were the officers of the army to oppose with the same zeal and unanimity any reduction in the numbers of forces with which master manufacturers set themselves against every law that is likely to increase the number of their rivals in the home market; were the former to animate their soldiers in the same manner as the latter enflame their workmen to attack with violence and outrage the proposers of any such regulation, to attempt to reduce the army would be as dangerous as it has now become to attempt to diminish in any respect the monopoly which our manufacturers have obtained against us. This monopoly has so much increased the number of some particular tribes of them that, like an overgrown standing army, they have become formidable to the government, and upon many occasions intimidate the legislature. The member of parliament who supports every proposal for strengthening this monopoly is sure to acquire not only the reputation of understanding trade, but great popularity and influence with an order of men whose numbers and wealth render them of great importance. If he opposes them, on the contrary, and still more if he has authority enough to be able to thwart them, neither the most acknowledged probity, nor the highest rank, nor the greatest public services can protect him from the most infamous abuse and detraction, from personal insults, nor sometimes from real danger, arising from the insolent outrage of furious and disappointed monopolists.

The undertaker of a great manufacture, who, by the home markets being suddenly laid open to the competition of foreigners, should be obliged to abandon his trade, would no doubt suffer very considerably. That part of his capital which had usually been employed in purchasing materials and in paying his workmen might, without much difficulty, perhaps, find another employment. But that part of it which was fixed in work-houses, and in the instruments of trade, could scarce be disposed of without considerable loss. The equitable regard, therefore, to his interest requires that changes of this kind should never be introduced suddenly, but slowly, gradually, and after a very long warning. The legislature, were it possible that its deliberations could be always directed, not by the clamorous importunity of partial interests, but by an extensive view of the general good, ought upon this very account, perhaps, to be particularly careful neither to establish any new monopolies of this kind, nor to extend further those which are already established. Every such regulation introduces some degree of real disorder into the constitution of the state, which it will be difficult afterwards to cure without occasioning another disorder.

How far it may be proper to impose taxes upon the importation of foreign goods, in order not to prevent their importation but to raise a revenue for government, I shall consider hereafter when I come to treat of taxes. Taxes imposed with a view to prevent, or even to diminish importation, are evidently as destructive of the revenue of the customs as of the freedom of trade.

5
The Unreasonableness of Restraints

Part Ⅰ
Of the Unreasonableness of those Restraints even upon the Principles of the Commercial System

To lay extraordinary restraints upon the importation of goods of almost all kinds from those particular countries with which the balance of trade is supposed to be disadvantageous, is the second expedient by which the commercial system proposes to increase the quantity of gold and silver. Thus in Great Britain, Silesia lawns may be imported for home consumption upon paying certain duties. But French cambrics and lawns are prohibited to be imported, except into the port of London, there to be warehoused for exportation. Higher duties are imposed upon the wines of France than upon those of Portugal, or indeed of any other country. By what is called the impost 1692, a duty of five-and-twenty per cent of the rate or value was laid upon all French goods; while the goods of other nations were, the greater part of them, subjected to much lighter duties, seldom exceeding five per cent. The wine, brandy, salt and vinegar of France were indeed excepted; these commodities being subjected to other heavy duties, either by other laws, or by particular clauses of the same law. In 1696, a second duty of twenty-five per cent, the first not having been thought a sufficient discouragement, was imposed upon all French goods, except brandy; together with a new duty of five-and-twenty pounds upon the ton of French wine, and another of fifteen pounds upon the ton of French vinegar. French goods have never been omitted in any of those general subsidies, or duties of five per cent, which have been imposed upon all, or the greater part of the goods enumerated in the book of rates. If we count the one-third and two-third subsidies as making a complete subsidy between them, there have been five of these general subsidies; so that before the commencement of the present war seventy-five per cent may be considered as the lowest duty to which the greater part of the goods of the growth, produce, or manufacture of France were liable. But upon the greater part of goods, those duties are equivalent to a prohibition. The French in their turn have, I believe, treated our goods and manufactures just as hardly; though I am not so well acquainted with the particular hardships which they have imposed upon them. Those mutual restraints have put an end to almost all fair commerce between the two nations, and smugglers are now the principal importers, either of British goods into France, or of French goods into Great Britain. The principles which I have been examining in the foregoing chapter took their origin from private interest and the spirit of monopoly; those which I am going to examine in this, from national prejudice and animosity. They are, accordingly, as might well be expected, still more unreasonable. They are so, even upon the principles of the commercial system.

First, though it were certain that in the case of a free trade between France and England, for example, the balance would be in favour of France, it would by no means follow that such a trade would be disadvantageous to England, or that the general balance of its whole trade would thereby be turned more against it. If the wines of France are better and cheaper than those of Portugal, or its linens than those of Germany, it would be more advantageous for Great Britain to purchase both the wine and the foreign linen which it had occasion for of France than of Portugal and Germany. Though the value of the annual importations from France would thereby be greatly augmented, the value of the whole annual importations would be diminished, in proportion as the French goods of the same quality were cheaper than those of the other two countries. This would be the case, even upon the supposition that the whole French goods imported were to be consumed in Great Britain.

But, secondly, a great part of them might be reexported to other countries, where, being sold with profit, they might bring back a return equal in value, perhaps, to the prime cost of the whole French goods imported. What has frequently been said of the East India trade might possibly be true of the French; that though the greater part of East India goods were bought with gold and silver, the re-exportation of a part of them to other countries brought back more gold and silver to that which carried on the trade than the prime cost of the whole amounted to. One of the most important branches of the Dutch trade, at present, consists in the carriage of French goods to other European countries. Some part even of the French wine drank in Great Britain is clandestinely imported from Holland and Zealand. If there was either a free trade between France and England, or if French goods could be imported upon paying only the same duties as those of other European nations, to be drawn back upon exportation, England might have some share of a trade which is found so advantageous to Holland.

Thirdly, and lastly, there is no certain criterion by which we can determine on which side what is called the balance between any two countries lies, or which of them exports to the greatest value. National prejudice and animosity, prompted always by the private interest of particular traders, are the principles which generally direct our judgment upon all questions concerning it. There are two criterions, however, which have frequently been appealed to upon such occasions, the custom-house books and the course of exchange. The custom-house books, I think, it is now generally acknowledged, are a very uncertain criterion, on account of the inaccuracy of the valuation at which the greater part of goods are rated in them. The course of exchange is, perhaps, almost equally so.

When the exchange between two places, such as London and Paris, is at par, it is said to be a sign that the debts due from London to Paris are compensated by those due from Paris to London. On the contrary, when a premium is paid at London for a bill upon Paris, it is said to be a sign that the debts due from London to Paris are not compensated by those due from Paris to London, but that a balance in money must be sent out from the latter place; for the risk, trouble, and expense of exporting which, the premium is both demanded and given. But the ordinary state of debt and credit between those two cities must necessarily be regulated, it is said, by the ordinary course of their dealings with one another. When neither of them imports from the other to a greater amount than it exports to that other, the debts and credits of each may compensate one another. But when one of them imports from the other to a greater value than it exports to that other, the former necessarily becomes indebted to the latter in a greater sum than the latter becomes indebted to it; the debts and credits of each do not compensate one another, and money must be sent out from that place of which the debts overbalance the credits. The ordinary course of exchange, therefore, being an indication of the ordinary state of debt and credit between two places, must likewise be an indication of the ordinary course of their exports and imports, as these necessarily regulate that state.

But though the ordinary course of exchange should be allowed to be a sufficient indication of the ordinary state of debt and credit between any two places, it would not from thence follow that the balance of trade was in favour of that place which had the ordinary state of debt and credit in its favour. The ordinary state of debt and credit between any two places is not always entirely regulated by the ordinary course of their dealings with one another; but is often influenced by that of the dealings of either with many other places. If it is usual, for example, for the merchants of England to pay for the goods which they buy of Hamburg, Dantzic, Riga, etc, by bills upon Holland, the ordinary state of debt and credit between England and Holland will not be regulated entirely by the ordinary course of the dealings of those two countries with one another, but will be influenced by that of the dealings of England with those other places. England may be obliged to send out every year money to Holland, though its annual exports to that country may exceed very much the annual value of its imports from thence; and though what is called the balance of trade may be very much in favour of England.

In the way, besides, in which the par of exchange has hitherto been computed, the ordinary course of exchange can afford no sufficient indication that the ordinary state of debt and credit is in favour of that country which seems to have, or which is supposed to have, the ordinary course of exchange in its favour: or, in other words, the real exchange may be, and, in fact, often is so very different from the computed one, that from the course of the latter no certain conclusion can, upon many occasions, be drawn concerning that of the former.

When for a sum of money paid in England, containing, according to the standard of the English mint, a certain number of ounces of pure silver, you receive a bill for a sum of money to be paid in France, containing, according to the standard of the French mint, an equal number of ounces of pure silver, exchange is said to be at par between England and France. When you pay more, you are supposed to give a premium, and exchange is said to be against England and in favour of France. When you pay less, you are supposed to get a premium, and exchange is said to be against France and in favour of England.

But, first, we cannot always judge of the value of the current money of different countries by the standard of their respective mints. In some it is more, in others it is less worn, clipt, and otherwise degenerated from that standard. But the value of the current coin of every country, compared with that of any other country, is in proportion not to the quantity of pure silver which it ought to contain, but to that which it actually does contain. Before the reformation of the silver coin in King William's time, exchange between England and Holland, computed in the usual manner according to the standard of their respective mints, was five-and-twenty per cent against England. But the value of the current coin of England, as we learn from Mr Lowndes, was at that time rather more than five-and-twenty per cent below its standard value. The real exchange, therefore, may even at that time have been in favour of England, notwithstanding the computed exchange was so much against it; a smaller number of ounces of pure silver actually paid in England may have purchased a bill for a greater number of ounces of pure silver to be paid in Holland, and the man who was supposed to give may in reality have got the premium. The French coin was, before the late reformation of the English gold coin, much less worn than the English, and was perhaps two or three per cent nearer its standard. If the computed exchange with France, therefore, was not more than two or three per cent against England, the real exchange might have been in its favour. Since the reformation of the gold coin, the exchange has been constantly in favour of England, and against France.

Secondly, in some countries, the expense of coinage is defrayed by the government; in others, it is defrayed by the private people who carry their bullion to the mint, and the government even derives some revenue from the coinage. In England, it is defrayed by the government, and if you carry a pound weight of standard silver to the mint, you get back sixty-two shillings, containing a pound weight of the like standard silver. In France, a duty of eight per cent is deducted for the coinage, which not only defrays the expense of it, but affords a small revenue to the government. In England, as the coinage costs nothing, the current coin can never be much more valuable than the quantity of bullion which it actually contains. In France, the workmanship, as you pay for it, adds to the value in the same manner as to that of wrought plate. A sum of French money, therefore, containing a certain weight of pure silver, is more valuable than a sum of English money containing an equal weight of pure silver, and must require more bullion, or other commodities, to purchase it. Though the current coin of the two countries, therefore, were equally near the standards of their respective mints, a sum of English money could not well purchase a sum of French money containing an equal number of ounces of pure silver, nor consequently a bill upon France for such a sum. If for such a bill no more additional money was paid than what was sufficient to compensate the expense of the French coinage, the real exchange might be at par between the two countries, their debts and credits might mutually compensate one another, while the computed exchange was considerably in favour of France. If less than this was paid, the real exchange might be in favour of England, while the computed was in favour of France.

Thirdly, and lastly, in some places, as at Amsterdam, Hamburg, Venice, etc, foreign bills of exchange are paid in what they call bank money; while in others, as at London, Lisbon, Antwerp, Leghorn, etc., they are paid in the common currency of the country. What is called bank money is always of more value than the same nominal sum of common currency. A thousand guilders in the bank of Amsterdam, for example, are of more value than a thousand guilders of Amsterdam currency. The difference between them is called the agio of the bank, which, at Amsterdam, is generally about five per cent. Supposing the current money of the two countries equally near to the standard of their respective mints, and that the one pays foreign bills in this common currency, while the other pays them in bank money, it is evident that the computed exchange may be in favour of that which pays in bank money, though the real exchange should be in favour of that which pays in current money; for the same reason that the computed exchange may be in favour of that which pays in better money, or in money nearer to its own standard, though the real exchange should be in favour of that which pays in worse. The computed exchange, before the late reformation of the gold coin, was generally against London with Amsterdam, Hamburg, Venice, and, I believe, with all other places which pay in what is called bank money. It will be no means follow, however, that the real exchange was against it. Since the reformation of the gold coin, it has been in favour of London even with those places. The computed exchange has generally been in favour of London with Lisbon, Antwerp, Leghorn, and, if you except France, I believe, with most other parts of Europe that pay in common currency; and it is not improbable that the real exchange was so too.

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Part Ⅱ
Of the Unreasonableness of those Extraordinary Restraints upon other Principles

In the foregoing Part of this Chapter I have endeavoured to show, even upon the principles of the commercial system, how unnecessary it is to lay extraordinary restraints upon the importation of goods from those countries with which the balance of trade is supposed to be disadvantageous.

Nothing, however, can be more absurd than this whole doctrine of the balance of trade, upon which, not only these restraints, but almost all the other regulations of commerce are founded. When two places trade with one another, this doctrine supposes that, if the balance be even, neither of them either loses or gains; but if it leans in any degree to one side, that one of them loses and the other gains in proportion to its declension from the exact equilibrium. Both suppositions are false. A trade which is forced by means of bounties and monopolies may be and commonly is disadvantageous to the country in whose favour it is meant to be established, as I shall endeavour to show hereafter. But that trade which, without force or constraint, is naturally and regularly carried on between any two places is always advantageous, though not always equally so, to both.

By advantage or gain, I understand not the increase of the quantity of gold and silver, but that of the exchangeable value of the annual produce of the land and labour of the country, or the increase of the annual revenue of its inhabitants.

If the balance be even, and if the trade between the two places consist altogether in the exchange of their native commodities, they will, upon most occasions, not only both gain, but they will gain equally, or very near equally; each will in this case afford a market for a part of the surplus produce of the other; each will replace a capital which had been employed in raising and preparing for the market this part of the surplus produce of the other, and which had been distributed among, and given revenue and maintenance to a certain number of its inhabitants. Some part of the inhabitants of each, therefore, will indirectly derive their revenue and maintenance from the other. As the commodities exchanged, too, are supposed to be of equal value, so the two capitals employed in the trade will, upon most occasions, be equal, or very nearly equal; and both being employed in raising the native commodities of the two countries, the revenue and maintenance which their distribution will afford to the inhabitants of each will be equal, or very nearly equal. This revenue and maintenance, thus mutually afforded, will be greater or smaller in proportion to the extent of their dealings. If these should annually amount to an hundred thousand pounds, for example, or to a million on each side, each of them would afford an annual revenue in the one case of an hundred thousand pounds, in the other of a million, to the inhabitants of the other.

If their trade should be of such a nature that one of them exported to the other nothing but native commodities, while the returns of that other consisted altogether in foreign goods; the balance, in this case, would still be supposed even, commodities being paid for with commodities. They would, in this case too, both gain, but they would not gain equally; and the inhabitants of the country which exported nothing but native commodities would derive the greatest revenue from the trade. If England, for example, should import from France nothing but the native commodities of that country, and, not having such commodities of its own as were in demand there, should annually repay them by sending thither a large quantity of foreign goods, tobacco, we shall suppose, and East India goods; this trade, though it would give some revenue to the inhabitants of both countries, would give more to those of France than to those of England. The whole French capital annually employed in it would annually be distributed among the people of France. But that part of the English capital only which was employed in producing the English commodities with which those foreign goods were purchased would be annually distributed among the people of England. The greater part of it would replace the capitals which had been employed in Virginia, Indostan, and China, and which had given revenue and maintenance to the inhabitants of those distant countries. If the capitals were equal, or nearly equal, therefore this employment of the French capital would augment much more the revenue of the people of France than that of the English capital would the revenue of the people of England. France would in this case carry on a direct foreign trade of consumption with England; whereas England would carry on a round-about trade of the same kind with France. The different effects of a capital employed in the direct and of one employed in the round-about foreign trade of consumption have already been fully explained.

There is not, probably, between any two countries a trade which consists altogether in the exchange either of native commodities on both sides, or of native commodities on one side and of foreign goods on the other. Almost all countries exchange with one another partly native and partly foreign goods. That country, however, in whose cargoes there is the greatest proportion of native, and the least of foreign goods, will always be the principal gainer.

If it was not with tobacco and East India goods, but with gold and silver, that England paid for the commodities annually imported from France, the balance, in this case, would be supposed uneven, commodities not being paid for with commodities, but with gold and silver. The trade, however, would, in this case, as in the foregoing, give some revenue to the inhabitants of both countries, but more to those of France than to those of England. It would give some revenue to those of England. The capital which had been employed in producing the English goods that purchased this gold and silver, the capital which had been distributed among, and given revenue to, certain inhabitants of England, would thereby be replaced and enabled to continue that employment. The whole capital of England would no more be diminished by this exportation of gold and silver than by the exportation of an equal value of any other goods. On the contrary, it would in most cases be augmented. No goods are sent abroad but those for which the demand is supposed to be greater abroad than at home, and of which the returns consequently, it is expected, will be of more value at home than the commodities exported. If the tobacco which, in England, is worth only a hundred thousand pounds, when sent to France will purchase wine which is, in England, worth a hundred and ten thousand, this exchange will equally augment the capital of England by ten thousand pounds. If a hundred thousand pounds of English gold, in the same manner, purchase French wine which, in England, is worth a hundred and ten thousand, this exchange will equally augment the capital of England by ten thousand pounds. As a merchant who has a hundred and ten thousand pounds worth of wine in his cellar is a richer man than he who has only a hundred thousand pounds worth of tobacco in his warehouse, so is he likewise a richer man than he who has only a hundred thousand pounds worth of gold in his coffers. He can put into motion a greater quantity of industry, and give revenue, maintenance, and employment to a greater number of people than either of the other two. But the capital of the country is equal to the capitals of all its different inhabitants, and the quantity of industry which can be annually maintained in it is equal to what all those different capitals can maintain. Both the capital of the country, therefore, and the quantity of industry which can be annually maintained in it, must generally be augmented by this exchange. It would, indeed, be more advantageous for England that it could purchase the wines of France with its own hardware and broadcloth than with either the tobacco of Virginia or the gold and silver of Brazil and Peru. A direct foreign trade of consumption is always more advantageous than a round-about one. But a round-about foreign trade of consumption, which is carried on with gold and silver, does not seem to be less advantageous than any other equally round-about one. Neither is a country which has no mines more likely to be exhausted of gold and silver by this annual exportation of those metals than one which does not grow tobacco by the like annual exportation of that plant. As a country which has wherewithal to buy tobacco will never be long in want of it, so neither will one be long in want of gold and silver which has wherewithal to purchase those metals.

It is a losing trade, it is said, which a workman carries on with the alehouse; and the trade which a manufacturing nation would naturally carry on with a wine country may be considered as a trade of the same nature. I answer, that the trade with the alehouse is not necessarily a losing trade. In its own nature it is just as advantageous as any other, though perhaps somewhat more liable to be abused. The employment of a brewer, and even that of a retailer of fermented liquors, are as necessary divisions of labour as any other. It will generally be more advantageous for a workman to buy of the brewer the quantity he has occasion for than to brew it himself, and if he is a poor workman, it will generally be more advantageous for him to buy it by little and little of the retailer than a large quantity of the brewer. He may no doubt buy too much of either, as he may of any other dealers in his neighbourhood, of the butcher, if he is a glutton, or of the draper, if he affects to be a beau among his companions. It is advantageous to the great body of workmen, notwithstanding, that all these trades should be free, though this freedom may be abused in all of them, and is more likely to be so, perhaps, in some than in others. Though individuals, besides, may sometimes ruin their fortunes by an excessive consumption of fermented liquors, there seems to be no risk that a nation should do so. Though in every country there are many people who spend upon such liquors more than they can afford, there are always many more who spend less. It deserves to be remarked too, that, if we consult experience, the cheapness of wine seems to be a cause, not of drunkenness, but of sobriety. The inhabitants of the wine countries are in general the soberest people in Europe; witness the Spaniards, the Italians, and the inhabitants of the southern provinces of France. People are seldom guilty of excess in what is their daily fare. Nobody affects the character of liberality and good fellowship by being profuse of a liquor which is as cheap as small beer. On the contrary, in the countries which, either from excessive heat or cold, produce no grapes, and where wine consequently is dear and a rarity, drunkenness is a common vice, as among the northern nations, and all those who live between the tropics, the negroes, for example, on the coast of Guinea. When a French regiment comes from some of the northern provinces of France, where wine is somewhat dear, to be quartered in the southern, where it is very cheap, the soldiers, I have frequently heard it observed, are at first debauched by the cheapness and novelty of good wine; but after a few months' residence, the greater part of them become as sober as the rest of the inhabitants. Were the duties upon foreign wines, and the excises upon malt, beer, and ale to be taken away all at once, it might, in the same manner, occasion in Great Britain a pretty general and temporary drunkenness among the middling and inferior ranks of people, which would probably be soon followed by a permanent and almost universal sobriety. At present drunkenness is by no means the vice of people of fashion, or of those who can easily afford the most expensive liquors. A gentleman drunk with ale has scarce ever been seen among us. The restraints upon the wine trade in Great Britain, besides, do not so much seem calculated to hinder the people from going, if I may say so, to the alehouse, as from going where they can buy the best and cheapest liquor. They favour the wine trade of Portugal, and discourage that of France. The Portuguese, it is said, indeed, are better customers for our manufactures than the French, and should therefore be encouraged in preference to them. As they give us their custom, it is pretended, we should give them ours. The sneaking arts of underling tradesmen are thus erected into political maxims for the conduct of a great empire: for it is the most underling tradesmen only who make it a rule to employ chiefly their own customers. A great trader purchases his goods always where they are cheapest and best, without regard to any little interest of this kind.

By such maxims as these, however, nations have been taught that their interest consisted in beggaring all their neighbours. Each nation has been made to look with an invidious eye upon the prosperity of all the nations with which it trades, and to consider their gain as its own loss. Commerce, which ought naturally to be, among nations, as among individuals, a bond of union and friendship, has become the most fertile source of discord and animosity. The capricious ambition of kings and ministers has not, during the present and the preceding century, been more fatal to the repose of Europe than the impertinent jealousy of merchants and manufacturers. The violence and injustice of the rulers of mankind is an ancient evil, for which, I am afraid, the nature of human affairs can scarce admit of a remedy. But the mean rapacity, the monopolising spirit of merchants and manufacturers, who neither are, nor ought to be, the rulers of mankind, though it cannot perhaps be corrected may very easily be prevented from disturbing the tranquillity of any body but themselves.

That it was the spirit of monopoly which originally both invented and propagated this doctrine cannot be doubted; and they who first taught it were by no means such fools as they who believed it. In every country it always is and must be the interest of the great body of the people to buy whatever they want of those who sell it cheapest. The proposition is so very manifest that it seems ridiculous to take any pains to prove it; nor could it ever have been called in question had not the interested sophistry of merchants and manufacturers confounded the common sense of mankind. Their interest is, in this respect, directly opposite to that of the great body of the people. As it is the interest of the freemen of a corporation to hinder the rest of the inhabitants from employing any workmen but themselves, so it is the interest of the merchants and manufacturers of every country to secure to themselves the monopoly of the home market. Hence in Great Britain, and in most other European countries, the extraordinary duties upon almost all goods imported by alien merchants. Hence the high duties and prohibitions upon all those foreign manufactures which can come into competition with our own. Hence, too, the extraordinary restraints upon the importation of almost all sorts of goods from those countries with which the balance of trade is supposed to be disadvantageous; that is, from those against whom national animosity happens to be most violently inflamed.

The wealth of a neighbouring nation, however, though dangerous in war and politics, is certainly advantageous in trade. In a state of hostility it may enable our enemies to maintain fleets and armies superior to our own; but in a state of peace and commerce it must likewise enable them to exchange with us to a greater value, and to afford a better market, either for the immediate produce of our own industry, or for whatever is purchased with that produce. As a rich man is likely to be a better customer to the industrious people in his neighbourhood than a poor, so is likewise a rich nation. A rich man, indeed, who is himself a manufacturer, is a very dangerous neighbour to all those who deal in the same way. All the rest of the neighbourhood, however, by far the greatest number, profit by the good market which his expense affords them. They even profit by his underselling the poorer workmen who deal in the same way with him. The manufacturers of a rich nation, in the same manner, may no doubt be very dangerous rivals to those of their neighbours. This very competition, however, is advantageous to the great body of the people, who profit greatly besides by the good market which the great expense of such a nation affords them in every other way. Private people who want to make a fortune never think of retiring to the remote and poor provinces of the country, but resort either to the capital, or to some of the great commercial towns. They know that where little wealth circulates there is little to be got, but that where a great deal is in motion, some share of it may fall to them. The same maxims which would in this manner direct the common sense of one, or ten, or twenty individuals, should regulate the judgment of one, or ten, or twenty millions, and should make a whole nation regard the riches of its neighbours as a probable cause and occasion for itself to acquire riches. A nation that would enrich itself by foreign trade is certainly most likely to do so when its neighbours are all rich, industrious, and commercial nations. A great nation surrounded on all sides by wandering savages and poor barbarians might, no doubt, acquire riches by the cultivation of its own lands, and by its own interior commerce, but not by foreign trade. It seems to have been in this manner that the ancient Egyptians and the modern Chinese acquired their great wealth. The ancient Egyptians, it is said, neglected foreign commerce, and the modern Chinese, it is known, hold it in the utmost contempt, and scarce deign to afford it the decent protection of the laws. The modern maxims of foreign commerce, by aiming at the impoverishment of all our neighbours, so far as they are capable of producing their intended effect, tend to render that very commerce insignificant and contemptible.

It is in consequence of these maxims that the commerce between France and England has in both countries been subjected to so many discouragements and restraints. If those two countries, however, were to consider their real interest, without either mercantile jealousy or national animosity, the commerce of France might be more advantageous to Great Britain than that of any other country, and for the same reason that of Great Britain to France. France is the nearest neighbour to Great Britain. In the trade between the southern coast of England and the northern and north-western coasts of France, the returns might be expected, in the same manner as in the inland trade, four, five, or six times in the year. The capital, therefore, employed in this trade could in each of the two countries keep in motion four, five, or six times the quantity of industry, and afford employment and subsistence to four, five, or six times the number of people, which an equal capital could do in the greater part of the other branches of foreign trade. Between the parts of France and Great Britain most remote from one another, the returns might be expected, at least, once in the year, and even this trade would so far be at least equally advantageous as the greater part of the other branches of our foreign European trade. It would be, at least, three times more advantageous than the boasted trade with our North American colonies, in which the returns were seldom made in less than three years, frequently not in less than four or five years. France besides, is supposed to contain twenty-four millions of inhabitants. Our North American colonies were never supposed to contain more than three millions; and France is a much richer country than North America; though, on account of the more unequal distribution of riches, there is much more poverty and beggary in the one country than in the other. France, therefore, could afford a market at least eight times more extensive, and, on account of the superior frequency of the returns, four-and-twenty times more advantageous than that which our North American colonies ever afforded. The trade of Great Britain would be just as advantageous to France, and, in proportion to the wealth, population, and proximity of the respective countries, would have the same superiority over that which France carries on with her own colonies. Such is the very great difference between that trade, which the wisdom of both nations has thought proper to discourage, and that which it has favoured the most.

But the very same circumstances which would have rendered an open and free commerce between the two countries so advantageous to both, have occasioned the principal obstructions to that commerce. Being neighbours, they are necessarily enemies, and the wealth and power of each becomes, upon that account, more formidable to the other; and what would increase the advantages of national friendship serves only to inflame the violence of national animosity. They are both rich and industrious nations; and the merchants and manufacturers of each dread the competition of the skill and activity of those of the other. Mercantile jealousy is excited, and both inflames, and is itself inflamed, by the violence of national animosity; and the traders of both countries have announced, with all the passionate confidence of interested falsehood, the certain ruin of each, in consequence of that unfavourable balance of trade, which, they pretend, would be the infallible effect of an unrestrained commerce with the other.

There is no commercial country in Europe of which the approaching ruin has not frequently been foretold by the pretended doctors of this system from an unfavourable balance of trade. After all the anxiety, however, which they have excited about this, after all the vain attempts of almost all trading nations to turn that balance in their own favour and against their neighbours, it does not appear that any one nation in Europe has been in any respect impoverished by this cause. Every town and country, on the contrary, in proportion as they have opened their ports to all nations, instead of being ruined by this free trade, as the principles of the commercial system would lead us to expect, have been enriched by it. Though there are in Europe, indeed, a few towns which in some respects deserve the name of free ports, there is no country which does so. Holland, perhaps, approaches the nearest to this character of any, though still very remote from it; and Holland, it is acknowledged, not only derives its whole wealth, but a great part of its necessary subsistence, from foreign trade.

There is another balance, indeed, which has already been explained, very different from the balance of trade, and which, according as it happens to be either favourable or unfavourable, necessarily occasions the prosperity or decay of every nation. This is the balance of the annual produce and consumption. If the exchangeable value of the annual produce, it has already been observed, exceeds that of the annual consumption, the capital of the society must annually increase in proportion to this excess. The society in this case lives within its revenue, and what is annually saved out of its revenue is naturally added to its capital, and employed so as to increase still further the annual produce. If the exchangeable value of the annual produce, on the contrary, fall short of the annual consumption, the capital of the society must annually decay in proportion to this deficiency. The expense of the society in this case exceeds its revenue, and necessarily encroaches upon its capital. Its capital, therefore, must necessarily decay, and together with it the exchangeable value of the annual produce of its industry.

This balance of produce and consumption is entirely different from what is called the balance of trade. It might take place in a nation which had no foreign trade, but which was entirely separated from all the world. It may take place in the whole globe of the earth, of which the wealth, population, and improvement may be either gradually increasing or gradually decaying.

The balance of produce and consumption may be constantly in favour of a nation, though what is called the balance of trade be generally against it. A nation may import to a greater value than it exports for half a century, perhaps, together; the gold and silver which comes into it during all this time may be all immediately sent out of it; its circulating coin may gradually decay, different sorts of paper money being substituted in its place, and even the debts, too, which it contracts in the principal nations with whom it deals, may be gradually increasing; and yet its real wealth, the exchangeable value of the annual produce of its lands and labour, may, during the same period, have been increasing in a much greater proportion.

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6
The Agricultural Systems

The agricultural systems of political economy will not require so long an explanation as that which I have thought it necessary to bestow upon the mercantile or commercial system.

That system which represents the produce of land as the sole source of the revenue and wealth of every country has, so far as I know, never been adopted by any nation, and it at present exists only in the speculations of a few men of great learning and ingenuity in France. It would not, surely, be worth while to examine at great length the errors of a system which never has done, and probably never will do, any harm in any part of the world. I shall endeavour to explain, however, as distinctly as I can, the great outlines of this very ingenious system.

Mr Colbert, the famous minister of Louis XIV, was a man of probity, of great industry and knowledge of detail, of great experience and acuteness in the examination of public accounts, and of abilities, in short, every way fitted for introducing method and good order into the collection and expenditure of the public revenue. That minister had unfortunately embraced all the prejudices of the mercantile system, in its nature and essence a system of restraint and regulation, and such as could scarce fail to be agreeable to a laborious and plodding man of business, who had been accustomed to regulate the different departments of public offices, and to establish the necessary checks and controls for confining each to its proper sphere. The industry and commerce of a great country he endeavoured to regulate upon the same model as the departments of a public office; and instead of allowing every man to pursue his own interest in his own way, upon the liberal plan of equality, liberty, and justice, he bestowed upon certain branches of industry extraordinary privileges, while he laid others under as extraordinary restraints. He was not only disposed, like other European ministers, to encourage more the industry of the towns than that of the country; but, in order to support the industry of the towns, he was willing even to depress and keep down that of the country. In order to render provisions cheap to the inhabitants of the towns, and thereby to encourage manufactures and foreign commerce, he prohibited altogether the exportation of corn, and thus excluded the inhabitants of the country from every foreign market for by far the most important part of the produce of their industry. This prohibition, joined to the restraints imposed by the ancient provincial laws of France upon the transportation of corn from one province to another, and to the arbitrary and degrading taxes which are levied upon the cultivators in almost all the provinces, discouraged and kept down the agriculture of that country very much below the state to which it would naturally have risen in so very fertile a soil and so very happy a climate. This state of discouragement and depression was felt more or less in every different part of the country, and many different inquiries were set on foot concerning the causes of it. One of those causes appeared to be the preference given, by the institutions of Mr Colbert, to the industry of the towns above that of the country.

If the rod be bent too much one way, says the proverb, in order to make it straight you must bend it as much the other. The French philosophers, who have proposed the system which represents agriculture as the sole source of the revenue and wealth of every country, seem to have adopted this proverbial maxim; and as in the plan of Mr Colbert the industry of the towns was certainly over-valued in comparison with that of the country; so in their system it seems to be as certainly undervalued.

The different orders of people who have ever been supposed to contribute in any respect towards the annual produce of the land and labour of the country, they divide into three classes. The first is the class of the proprietors of land. The second is the class of the cultivators, of farmers and country labourers, whom they honour with the peculiar appellation of the productive class. The third is the class of artificers, manufacturers, and merchants, whom they endeavour to degrade by the humiliating appellation of the barren or unproductive class.

The class of proprietors contributes to the annual produce by the expense which they may occasionally lay out upon the improvement of the land, upon the buildings, drains, enclosures, and other ameliorations, which they may either make or maintain upon it, and by means of which the cultivators are enabled, with the same capital, to raise a greater produce, and consequently to pay a greater rent. This advanced rent may be considered as the interest or profit due to the proprietor upon the expense or capital which he thus employs in the improvement of his land. Such expenses are in this system called ground expenses (dépenses foncières).

The cultivators or farmers contribute to the annual produce by what are in this system called the original and annual expenses (dépenses primitives et dépenses annuelles) which they lay out upon the cultivation of the land. The original expenses consist in the instruments of husbandry, in the stock of cattle, in the seed, and in the maintenance of the farmer's family, servants, and cattle during at least a great part of the first year of his occupancy, or till he can receive some return from the land. The annual expenses consist in the seed, in the wear and tear of the instruments of husbandry, and in the annual maintenance of the farmer's servants and cattle, and of his family too, so far as any part of them can be considered as servants employed in cultivation. That part of the produce of the land which remains to him after paying the rent ought to be sufficient, first, to replace to him within a reasonable time, at least during the term of his occupancy, the whole of his original expenses, together with the ordinary profits of stock; and, secondly, to replace to him annually the whole of his annual expenses, together likewise with the ordinary profits of stock. Those two sorts of expenses are two capitals which the farmer employs in cultivation; and unless they are regularly restored to him together with a reasonable profit, he cannot carry on his employment upon a level with other employments; but, from a regard to his own interest, must desert it as soon as possible and seek some other. That part of the produce of the land which is thus necessary for enabling the farmer to continue his business ought to be considered as a fund sacred to cultivation, which, if the landlord violates, he necessarily reduces the produce of his own land, and in a few years not only disables the farmer from paying this racked rent, but from paying the reasonable rent which he might otherwise have got for his land. The rent which properly belongs to the landlord is no more than the net produce which remains after paying in the completest manner all the necessary expenses which must be previously laid out in order to raise the gross or the whole produce. It is because the labour of the cultivators, over and above paying completely all those necessary expenses, affords a net produce of this kind that this class of people are in this system peculiarly distinguished by the honourable appellation of the productive class. Their original and annual expenses are for the same reason called, in this system, productive expenses, because, over and above replacing their own value, they occasion the annual reproduction of this net produce.

The ground expenses, as they are called, or what the landlord lays out upon the improvement of his land, are in this system, too, honoured with the appellation of productive expenses. Till the whole of those expenses, together with the ordinary profits of stock, have been completely repaid to him by the advanced rent which he gets from his land, that advanced rent ought to be regarded as sacred and inviolable, both by the church and by the king; ought to be subject neither to tithe nor to taxation. If it is otherwise, by discouraging the improvement of land the church discourages the future increase of her own tithes, and the king the future increase of his own taxes. As in a well-ordered state of things, therefore, those ground expenses, over and above reproducing in the completest manner their own value, occasion likewise after a certain time a reproduction of a net produce, they are in this system considered as productive expenses.

The ground expenses of the landlord, however, together with the original and the annual expenses of the farmer, are the only three sorts of expenses which in this system are considered as productive. All other expenses and all other orders of people, even those who in the common apprehensions of men are regarded as the most productive, are in this account of things represented as altogether barren and unproductive.

Artificers and manufacturers in particular, whose industry, in the common apprehensions of men, increases so much the value of the rude produce of land, are in this system represented as a class of people altogether barren and unproductive. Their labour, it is said, replaces only the stock which employs them, together with its ordinary profits. That stock consists in the materials, tools, and wages advanced to them by their employer; and is the fund destined for their employment and maintenance. Its profits are the fund destined for the maintenance of their employer. Their employer, as he advances to them the stock of materials, tools, and wages necessary for their employment, so he advances to himself what is necessary for his own maintenance, and this maintenance he generally proportions to the profit which he expects to make by the price of their work. Unless its price repays to him the maintenance which he advances to himself, as well as the materials, tools, and wages which he advances to his workmen, it evidently does not repay to him the whole expense which he lays out upon it. The profits of manufacturing stock therefore are not, like the rent of land, a net produce which remains after completely repaying the whole expense which must be laid out in order to obtain them. The stock of the farmer yields him a profit as well as that of the master manufacturer; and it yields a rent likewise to another person, which that of the master manufacturer does not. The expense, therefore, laid out in employing and maintaining artificers and manufacturers does no more than continue, if one may say so, the existence of its own value, and does not produce any new value. It is therefore altogether a barren and unproductive expense. The expense, on the contrary, laid out in employing farmers and country labourers, over and above continuing the existence of its own value, produces a new value, the rent of the landlord. It is therefore a productive expense.

Mercantile stock is equally barren and unproductive with manufacturing stock. It only continues the existence of its own value, without producing any new value. Its profits are only the repayment of the maintenance which its employer advances to himself during the time that he employs it, or till he receives the returns of it. They are only the repayment of a part of the expense which must be laid out in employing it.

The labour of artificers and manufacturers never adds anything to the value of the whole annual amount of the rude produce of the land. It adds, indeed, greatly to the value of some particular parts of it. But the consumption which in the meantime it occasions of other parts is precisely equal to the value which it adds to those parts; so that the value of the whole amount is not, at any one moment of time, in the least augmented by it. The person who works the lace of a pair of fine ruffles, for example, will sometimes raise the value of perhaps a pennyworth of flax to thirty pounds sterling. But though at first sight he appears thereby to multiply the value of a part of the rude produce about seven thousand and two hundred times, he in reality adds nothing to the value of the whole annual amount of the rude produce. The working of that lace costs him perhaps two years' labour. The thirty pounds which he gets for it when it is finished is no more than the repayment of the subsistence which he advances to himself during the two years that he is employed about it. The value which, by every day's, month's, or year's labour, he adds to the flax does no more than replace the value of his own consumption during that day, month, or year. At no moment of time, therefore, does he add anything to the value of the whole annual amount of the rude produce of the land: the portion of that produce which he is continually consuming being always equal to the value which he is continually producing. The extreme poverty of the greater part of the persons employed in this expensive though trifling manufacture may satisfy us that the price of their work does not in ordinary cases exceed the value of their subsistence. It is otherwise with the work of farmers and country labourers. The rent of the landlord is a value which, in ordinary cases, it is continually producing, over and above replacing, in the most complete manner, the whole consumption, the whole expense laid out upon the employment and maintenance both of the workmen and of their employer.

Artificers, manufacturers, and merchants can augment the revenue and wealth of their society by parsimony only; or, as it is expressed in this system, by privation, that is, by depriving themselves of a part of the funds destined for their own subsistence. They annually reproduce nothing but those funds. Unless, therefore, they annually save some part of them, unless they annually deprive themselves of the enjoyment of some part of them, the revenue and wealth of their society can never be in the smallest degree augmented by means of their industry. Farmers and country labourers, on the contrary, may enjoy completely the whole funds destined for their own subsistence, and yet augment at the same time the revenue and wealth of their society. Over and above what is destined for their own subsistence, their industry annually affords a net produce, of which the augmentation necessarily augments the revenue and wealth of their society. Nations therefore which, like France or England, consist in a great measure of proprietors and cultivators can be enriched by industry and enjoyment. Nations on the contrary, which, like Holland and Hamburg, are composed chiefly of merchants, artificers, and manufacturers can grow rich only through parsimony and privation. As the interest of nations so differently circumstanced is very different, so is likewise the common character of the people: in those of the former kind, liberality, frankness, and good fellowship naturally make a part of that common character: in the latter, narrowness, meanness, and a selfish disposition, averse to all social pleasure and enjoyment.

The unproductive class, that of merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, is maintained and employed altogether at the expense of the two other classes, of that of proprietors, and of that of cultivators. They furnish it both with the materials of its work and with the fund of its subsistence, with the corn and cattle which it consumes while it is employed about that work. The proprietors and cultivators finally pay both the wages of all the workmen of the unproductive class, and of the profits of all their employers. Those workmen and their employers are properly the servants of the proprietors and cultivators. They are only servants who work without doors, as menial servants work within. Both the one and the other, however, are equally maintained at the expense of the same masters. The labour of both is equally unproductive. It adds nothing to the value of the sum total of the rude produce of the land. Instead of increasing the value of that sum total, it is a charge and expense which must be paid out of it.

The unproductive class, however, is not only useful, but greatly useful to the other two classes. By means of the industry of merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, the proprietors and cultivators can purchase both the foreign goods and the manufactured produce of their own country which they have occasion for with the produce of a much smaller quantity of their own labour than what they would be obliged to employ if they were to attempt, in an awkward and unskilful manner, either to import the one or to make the other for their own use. By means of the unproductive class, the cultivators are delivered from many cares which would otherwise distract their attention from the cultivation of land. The superiority of produce, which, in consequence of this undivided attention, they are enabled to raise, is fully sufficient to pay the whole expense which the maintenance and employment of the unproductive class costs either the proprietors or themselves. The industry of merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, though in its own nature altogether unproductive, yet contributes in this manner indirectly to increase the produce of the land. It increases the productive powers of productive labour by leaving it at liberty to confine itself to its proper employment, the cultivation of land; and the plough goes frequently the easier and the better by means of the labour of the man whose business is most remote from the plough.

It can never be the interest of the proprietors and cultivators to restrain or to discourage in any respect the industry of merchants, artificers, and manufacturers. The greater the liberty which this unproductive class enjoys, the greater will be the competition in all the different trades which compose it, and the cheaper will the other two classes be supplied, both with foreign goods and with the manufactured produce of their own country.

It can never be the interest of the unproductive class to oppress the other two classes. It is the surplus produce of the land, or what remains after deducting the maintenance, first, of the cultivators, and afterwards of the proprietors, that maintains and employs the unproductive class. The greater this surplus the greater must likewise be the maintenance and employment of that class. The establishment of perfect justice, of perfect liberty, and of perfect equality is the very simple secret which most effectually secures the highest degree of prosperity to all the three classes.

The merchants, artificers, and manufacturers of those mercantile states which, like Holland and Hamburg, consist chiefly of this unproductive class, are in the same manner maintained and employed altogether at the expense of the proprietors and cultivators of land. The only difference is, that those proprietors and cultivators are, the greater part of them, placed at a most inconvenient distance from the merchants, artificers, and manufacturers whom they supply with the materials of their work and the fund of their subsistence, are the inhabitants of other countries and the subjects of other governments.

Such mercantile states, however, are not only useful, but greatly useful to the inhabitants of those other countries. They fill up, in some measure, a very important void, and supply the place of the merchants, artificers, and manufacturers whom the inhabitants of those countries ought to find at home, but whom, from some defect in their policy, they do not find at home.

It can never be the interest of those landed nations, if I may call them so, to discourage or distress the industry of such mercantile states by imposing high duties upon their trade or upon the commodities which they furnish. Such duties, by rendering those commodities dearer, could serve only to sink the real value of the surplus produce of their own land, with which, or, what comes to the same thing, with the price of which those commodities are purchased. Such duties could serve only to discourage the increase of that surplus produce, and consequently the improvement and cultivation of their own land. The most effectual expedient, on the contrary, for raising the value of that surplus produce, for encouraging its increase, and consequently the improvement and cultivation of their own land, would be to allow the most perfect freedom to the trade of all such mercantile nations.

This perfect freedom of trade would even be the most effectual expedient for supplying them, in due time, with all the artificers, manufacturers, and merchants whom they wanted at home, and for filling up in the properest and most advantageous manner that very important void which they felt there.

The continual increase of the surplus produce of their land would, in due time, create a greater capital than what could be employed with the ordinary rate of profit in the improvement and cultivation of land; and the surplus part of it would naturally turn itself to the employment of artificers and manufacturers at home. But those artificers and manufacturers, finding at home both the materials of their work and the fund of their subsistence, might immediately even with much less art and skill be able to work as cheap as the like artificers and manufacturers of such mercantile states who had both to bring from a great distance. Even though, from want of art and skill, they might not for some time be able to work as cheap, yet, finding a market at home, they might be able to sell their work there as cheap as that of the artificers and manufacturers of such mercantile states, which could not be brought to that market but from so great a distance; and as their art and skill improved, they would soon be able to sell it cheaper. The artificers and manufacturers of such mercantile states, therefore, would immediately be rivalled in the market of those landed nations, and soon after undersold and jostled out of it altogether. The cheapness of the manufactures of those landed nations, in consequence of the gradual improvements of art and skill, would, in due time, extend their sale beyond the home market, and carry them to many foreign markets, from which they would in the same manner gradually jostle out many of the manufactures of such mercantile nations.

This continual increase both of the rude and manufactured produce of those landed nations would in due time create a greater capital than could, with the ordinary rate of profit, be employed either in agriculture or in manufactures. The surplus of this capital would naturally turn itself to foreign trade, and be employed in exporting to foreign countries such parts of the rude and manufactured produce of its own country as exceeded the demand of the home market. In the exportation of the produce of their own country, the merchants of a landed nation would have an advantage of the same kind over those of mercantile nations which its artificers and manufacturers had over the artificers and manufacturers of such nations; the advantage of finding at home that cargo and those stores and provisions which the others were obliged to seek for at a distance. With inferior art and skill in navigation, therefore, they would be able to sell that cargo as cheap in foreign markets as the merchants of such mercantile nations; and with equal art and skill they would be able to sell it cheaper. They would soon, therefore, rival those mercantile nations in this branch of foreign trade, and in due time would jostle them out of it altogether.

According to this liberal and generous system, therefore, the most advantageous method in which a landed nation can raise up artificers, manufacturers, and merchants of its own is to grant the most perfect freedom of trade to the artificers, manufacturers, and merchants of all other nations. It thereby raises the value of the surplus produce of its own land, of which the continual increase gradually establishes a fund, which in due time necessarily raises up all the artificers, manufacturers, and merchants whom it has occasion for.

When a landed nation, on the contrary, oppresses either by high duties or by prohibitions the trade of foreign nations, it necessarily hurts its own interest in two different ways. First, by raising the price of all foreign goods and of all sorts of manufactures, it necessarily sinks the real value of the surplus produce of its own land, with which, or, what comes to the same thing, with the price of which it purchases those foreign goods and manufactures. Secondly, by giving a sort of monopoly of the home market to its own merchants, artificers, and manufacturers, it raises the rate of mercantile and manufacturing profit in proportion to that of agricultural profit, and consequently either draws from agriculture a part of the capital which had before been employed in it, or hinders from going to it a part of what would otherwise have gone to it. This policy, therefore, discourages agriculture in two different ways; first, by sinking the real value of its produce, and thereby lowering the rate of its profit; and, secondly, by raising the rate of profit in all other employments. Agriculture is rendered less advantageous, and trade and manufactures more advantageous than they otherwise would be; and every man is tempted by his own interest to turn, as much as he can, both his capital and his industry from the former to the latter employments.

Though, by this oppressive policy, a landed nation should be able to raise up artificers, manufacturers, and merchants of its own somewhat sooner than it could do by the freedom of trade — a matter, however, which is not a little doubtful — yet it would raise them up, if one may say so, prematurely, and before it was perfectly ripe for them. By raising up too hastily one species of industry, it would depress another more valuable species of industry. By raising up too hastily a species of industry which only replaces the stock which employs it, together with the ordinary profit, it would depress a species of industry which, over and above replacing that stock with its profit, affords likewise a net produce, a free rent to the landlord. It would depress productive labour, by encouraging too hastily that labour which is altogether barren and unproductive.

[...]

The greatest and most important branch of the commerce of every nation, it has already been observed, is that which is carried on between the inhabitants of the town and those of the country. The inhabitants of the town draw from the country the rude produce which constitutes both the materials of their work and the fund of their subsistence; and they pay for this rude produce by sending back to the country a certain portion of it manufactured and prepared for immediate use. The trade which is carried on between these two different sets of people consists ultimately in a certain quantity of rude produce exchanged for a certain quantity of manufactured produce. The dearer the latter, therefore, the cheaper the former; and whatever tends in any country to raise the price of manufactured produce tends to lower that of the rude produce of the land, and thereby to discourage agriculture. The smaller the quantity of manufactured produce which any given quantity of rude produce, or, what comes to the same thing, which the price of any given quantity of rude produce is capable of purchasing, the smaller the exchangeable value of that given quantity of rude produce, the smaller the encouragement which either the landlord has to increase its quantity by improving or the farmer by cultivating the land. Whatever, besides, tends to diminish in any country the number of artificers and manufacturers, tends to diminish the home market, the most important of all markets for the rude produce of the land, and thereby still further to discourage agriculture.

Those systems, therefore, which, preferring agriculture to all other employments, in order to promote it, impose restraints upon manufactures and foreign trade, act contrary to the very end which they propose, and indirectly discourage that very species of industry which they mean to promote. They are so far, perhaps, more inconsistent than even the mercantile system. That system, by encouraging manufactures and foreign trade more than agriculture, turns a certain portion of the capital of the society from supporting a more advantageous, to support a less advantageous species of industry. But still it really and in the end encourages that species of industry which it means to promote. Those agricultural systems, on the contrary, really and in the end discourage their own favourite species of industry.

It is thus that every system which endeavours, either by extraordinary encouragements to draw towards a particular species of industry a greater share of the capital of the society than what would naturally go to it, or, by extraordinary restraints, force from a particular species of industry some share of the capital which would otherwise be employed in it, is in reality subversive of the great purpose which it means to promote. It retards, instead of accelerating, the progress of the society towards real wealth and greatness; and diminishes, instead of increasing, the real value of the annual produce of its land and labour.

All systems either of preference or of restraint, therefore, being thus completely taken away, the obvious and simple system of natural liberty establishes itself of its own accord. Every man, as long as he does not violate the laws of justice, is left perfectly free to pursue his own interest his own way, and to bring both his industry and capital into competition with those of any other man, or order of men.

中文目录

1　论劳动分工

2　劳动分工的原理

3　商业体系的原理

4　对于商品进口实施的限制

5　限制的不合理性

6　农业体系

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英文目录
Contents

1　The Division of Labour

2　The Principle of the Division of Labour

3　The Principle of the Commercial System

4　Restraints on the Importation of Goods

5　The Unreasonableness of Restraints

6　The Agricultural Systems

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目　录

中文目录

英文目录

企鹅口袋书·伟大的思想

论生命之短暂

（英汉双语）

［古罗马］塞内加　著　C.D.N. 考斯塔　英译

周殊平　胡晓哲　汉译

中　国　出　版　集　团
中国对外翻译出版公司

目　录

论生命之短暂

致赫尔维亚的告慰书

论心灵之安宁

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论生命之短暂

保利努斯〔1〕啊，大多数人都抱怨自然之吝啬，因为人生短暂，而这被赋予的短暂人生竟又是如此瞬间即逝，以至于除极少数人之外，其余的人都还没来得及开始生活便寿数已尽。并非只有平庸之辈和疏于思考的大众苍生才对这种人们所说的世间通病发出哀叹，那些声名显赫的人物也会因同样感觉而抱怨，因此也才有了最伟大的医学之父的至理名言：“人生苦短，艺术恒久。”〔2〕连亚里士多德也会因此而大发牢骚，那是与其智者身份极不相宜的。他指责自然如此偏宠动物，竟然让它们活出五个、十个生命周期，却把人的生命限制在极其短暂的时间里，尽管他为那么众多、伟大的成就而生。生命并非短促，而是我们荒废太多。一生足够漫长，如能悉心投入，足以创造丰功伟绩。然而，在漫不经心、挥霍无度，汲汲于无聊琐事，最终到达万劫不复的终极之时，我们才会幡然醒悟。浑然不觉中，时光荏苒，生命已经逝去。因而，实际赋予我们的生命原非短暂，是我们自己使然；上天所赐不薄，是我们将其荒废虚掷。这正如败家之子将到手的万贯家财，一掷千金，顷刻散尽。若托付给经营有方者管理，即便这财富不多也可提升使用价值。所以，倘能妥善安排，我们的生命便可延长。

我们为何要埋怨自然母亲？她已经仁至义尽：生命，如能善用，便足可长寿。然而，有人贪得无厌，欲壑难填；有人碌碌无为，不务正业；有人醉生梦死，有人慵懒怠惰。有人因政治野心而总是仰人鼻息，结果心力交瘁；有人经商发财，惟利是图，得陇望蜀；有人热衷穷兵黩武，总是损害他人，或总惴惴不安，唯恐大祸临头，因而备受煎熬；有些人殚精竭虑，心甘情愿鞍前马后侍奉大人物而费力不讨好；很多人或觊觎他人的财富，或抱怨自己的贫穷，无暇他顾；不少人没有追求，随波逐流，反复无常，永不满足。有些人一生了无目标，而就在他们无精打采哈欠连天时，死神已神不知鬼不觉地降临——至此，我毫不怀疑那位最伟大诗人的经典名句所言极是：“我们真正活过的那段生命仅仅是一小部分。”〔3〕的确如此，其余的部分不能算是生命，仅仅是时间而已。恶习裹挟着人们，从四面八方发起进攻，使人们不得再起身睁眼去识辨真相，只能俯首就擒，任欲火中烧而不能自拔，永远失去自我。即使侥幸得到一丝安宁，依然辗转反侧，终难摆脱邪念的缠磨回归平静，就像深海的水即使在风暴肆虐过后仍然翻腾不息。你觉得我说的都是公认的邪恶之徒？看看那些被众人追捧的幸运儿吧，祝福的甜言蜜语令其窒息。多少人为财富所累！多少人高谈阔论，终日为展示自己的天赋才华而呕心沥血！多少人沉溺于无度的享乐而憔悴枯槁！又有多少人囿于门客的包围之中而身不由己！总而言之，纵观这些人，从平民百姓到达官显贵——这位请求法律援助，那位提供帮助；这位接受审判，那位为其辩护，而另一位做出判决；无人为自己提出要求，每个人都在为他人耗散精力。问到那些知名人士你就会发现他们都有着这样的显著特征：甲想讨好乙，乙想讨好丙，没有人为自己操心。于是又有某些人无名火起——他们抱怨上司目中无人，因为当他们希望有人倾听时，上司却忙得无暇旁顾。不过如果一个人自己总是自顾不暇的时候，又怎敢抱怨他人傲气十足呢？然而，无论你是何许人，大人物有时还会将目光投向你，即便表情盛气凌人，他仍会洗耳恭听你的见解，准许你与他比肩而行。可是你却对自己从来都不屑一顾，不屑聆听自己的心声。由于你已经表明并非因为你指望别人的陪伴，而是不能容忍自己做自己的陪伴，所以，你没有理由认为别人就该关注你。

即便先哲都来对此话题予以考量，对于人类头脑的浑浑噩噩他们也会惊奇不已。人们不会让别人获取自己的地产，一点儿小小的地界纠纷，都会使他们即刻抄起石头拿起武器大动干戈；然而他们却能任由别人侵占他们的生命——咳，他们甚至自己请人来掌控他们的生命。你会发现没人会愿意别人分享自己的钱财，但是我们每个人瓜分了自己的生命！人们在捍卫个人财产时锱铢必较，而一旦挥霍起本该吝惜的时间，却是出手大方。所以我要拉住一位先辈对他说：“我看您老高寿，已近百岁之年，或超过百岁，来，给我们盘点一下您这一辈子吧。算算你用了多少时间与债主周旋，多少时间与情妇厮混，多少时间与贵族结交，多少时间与门客敷衍，多少时间和老婆吵架，多少时间惩治奴仆，多少时间在为履行社会义务在城里奔忙，还得算上生病后用去的时间，再加上无所事事流逝的时间，你会发现属于你的时间比你原来估计的要少多了。回想一下什么时候有过固定的目标，按自己计划过的日子才几天；什么时间随心所欲地干事，什么时候表情自然，什么时候心无旁骛，如此漫长的一生取得了哪些成就；不知不觉中多少人侵扰过你的生活；无缘由的悲痛、愚蠢的嬉笑、贪得无厌、外界的诱惑使你失去了多少人生的大好时光，自己却所剩无几，你会感到自己死得太早了。

为什么会这样呢？你活着就好像命中注定会长生不老；你从未感到自身的脆弱，你对时光流逝浑然不觉，因而挥霍虚掷，好像时光会满载而至，源源而来——而其实你为别人或别的事情付出的那一天很可能就是你的末日。恐惧时，你知道终会一死；贪求时，你似乎长生不老。你会听到很多人这样说：“等我五十岁时我就退休赋闲；等我六十岁时就推掉所有公干。”但，谁能保证你那么长寿呢？谁能确保你能按照自己设定的路线活下去呢？当你的生命只剩下残羹冷炙，当你的时间已无法用在其他事情上才开始思考，你不觉得惭愧吗？当生命即将结束才准备开始真正的生活就已经为时太晚了！忘了人终有一死，而把那些明智的计划拖延到五十、六十岁时才开始实施，想在很少有人能活到的那个岁数才开始生活，这是多么愚蠢！

你会发现很多达官显贵都曾声称他们渴望闲暇，赞赏闲暇，觉得悠闲的生活比自己的尊荣更可贵。有时他们渴望能从高位平安卸任，因为即便没有外界袭击和骚乱，好运自己也会顷刻间灰飞烟灭。

被奉若神明的奥古斯都大帝〔4〕得到诸神的恩泽比谁都多，而他却不断地祈求歇息，希望能暂停公务，休息片刻。他句句不离的话题是——对赋闲的企盼。他曾用慰藉的话宽解自己的辛劳，虽然虚假却很中听。他说，有那么一天他会为愉悦自己而生活。他在致元老院的一封信中承诺他的隐退将不会缺少尊严，也不会与先前的荣耀不合，在这之后，我在信里看到：“但更要谨记的是，不能光承诺，而要付之实施。但那令人欣喜的现实依旧遥遥无期，所以我把对那美好时光的向往讲出来会高兴高兴，提前享受那种愉悦。”休闲对于他如此珍贵，在还不能真实享用时，竟然先搞起精神会餐。像他这种自视一人即可主宰万物，决定百姓、社稷福祉的人物，一旦想到有朝一日能将尊贵置于一旁都会欣喜万分。然而，从亲身经历中他知道，四方仰慕的尊荣令他付出了多少汗水，又隐藏着多少不为人知的焦虑。他不得不先向自己的同胞开战，再和同僚打仗，最后向亲人宣战，造就尸山血海。他征战于马其顿、西西里、埃及、叙利亚、亚洲以及几乎所有的国家——当他的军队厌倦了血洗罗马，他又向国外敌军开火。当他平定阿尔卑斯地区，制服在他和平帝国中部崛起的敌人时，当他把疆土扩展到莱茵河、幼发拉底河和多瑙河一带，在罗马本土，穆列纳、凯皮奥、雷必达、埃格纳提乌斯等却在秣马厉兵与之抗衡。当他还未逃脱这些人的阴谋时，他的女儿〔5〕及其周围所有因与之通奸而像发过誓一样效忠于她的贵族青年，还有埃乌勒斯以及那个与安东尼联手的第二个可怕的女人，使他在风烛残年仍惊恐不安。他将这些“痈疽”和那些左膀右臂统统除掉，但马上又有新的取而代之，就像身体的血量过多总要从某个地方破口而出。所以他渴望闲暇，期盼并想象可以从烦劳中换得解脱。万民向他祈求，而他祈求的无非如此。

当马尔库斯·西塞罗〔6〕受到喀提林〔7〕、克劳狄乌斯〔8〕、庞培、克劳苏等人〔9〕的排斥时——他们有的是公开的敌人，有的是可疑的朋友——当国家形势动荡风雨飘摇时，他备受煎熬，试图力挽狂澜，救国家于穷途末路之时，但最终却被风暴席卷而去。在太平盛世时他不得安宁，在灾祸临头时他无法忍受，他多少次诅咒那执政官的职位，而此前他曾不停地称颂它，当然，那也是不无道理的。当老庞培被征服，儿子仍在西班牙力图收拾他的残部时，西塞罗给阿提库斯写了一封信，信中他用了多么凄婉的字句！“你想知道我在这里干什么吗？”他写道，“我像半个囚徒似地待在自己图斯库兰的别墅。”接着他哀叹过去，抱怨现在，绝望地叹息未来。西塞罗称自己为半个囚徒，但是智者绝不至使用如此悲怆的字眼。他永远不会成为“半个囚徒”，而是享受稳定、彻底的自由，随心所欲做自己的主宰，至高无上地生活。因为什么东西能凌驾于一位超越命运之神的人之上呢？

李维乌斯·杜路苏斯〔10〕孔武有力，曾提出改革格拉古兄弟灾难性政策的法案，因而得到全意大利人的支持。但他的措施不会有成果，因为从一开始就无法贯彻，一旦实施又无法放弃。据说他曾诅咒自己一直过的动荡生活，还说他是唯一一个从未享受过假期的人，从小就没有。因为，当他尚未成年，身着青年装的他就斗胆在陪审团面前为一些被告说话，并且居然在法庭上产生了影响，结果正如大家所知，他迫使法庭做出了有利于他当事人的判决。小小年纪却有如此野心的人什么事干不出来？你就该知道如此年幼就这么胆大妄为会给公众和个人带来多大的麻烦。所以当他抱怨自己从未享受过假期时已为时太晚，因为他从小就在会议广场制造大麻烦。现在还不能确定他的死是不是自己一手造成的，他是因为腹股沟突然受伤后就倒下了。有些人怀疑他是自戕，但是没有人怀疑他死得很适时。

再提这种人就有点儿多余了，他们在别人眼里是最幸福的，但他们自己对此有着清醒的认识，他们表达了对自己一生中每个的行动的憎恶。然而，抱怨归抱怨，他们既改变不了自己也改变不了别人，说完激情之辞，心情又恢复原样。

可以肯定地说，你的生命即便能延续千年，也还会缩成最短的期限：那些恶习将吞噬所有空间。你真正拥有的时间——以为可以延伸，但其实稍纵即逝的时间——也必将很快从你身边溜走：因为你没有抓住它，或将它拉回来，或试图拖延它——这个速度最快的东西，而是让它溜掉了，似乎它是某种多余的或可以替代的东西。

不过，在所有最可恶的坏人中最令人不齿的就是那些沉溺于酒色的家伙，因为这是最不可救药的沉沦。其他人即便执著于一种虚幻的荣耀，也算得上是值得称道的虚妄。你可以列出那些沉醉于不当的仇恨和战争的或贪婪或暴躁的家伙，但他们即便有罪也不失男人气概，而那些耽于声色犬马之徒却是劣迹斑斑的无耻人渣。看看这些人是如何花费时间的——他们算账花了多少时间，算计别人或担心别人被算计用了多少时间，奉承谄媚别人，别人奉承自己，支付或收取保释金，赴宴（这在现在被算作公事了）各用去多少时间，你会看到他们的这些活动，无论是好还是坏，都让他们忙得喘不上气。

最后一点，人们普遍认为，一个人如果沉迷于某种事务，就会一事无成——修辞教育或通识教育都学不好——因为精力分散了，大脑对任何东西都不能深入吸收，而会排斥一切所谓硬塞进来的东西。对于那些沉迷于某一活动的人来说，生活是最不重要的事了，而没有比生活这门课程更难学的了。其他技艺的老师到处都能找到，实际上有些技艺连小孩子都非常精通，可以胜任教师一职。但是学会如何生活却要耗费一生的时间，而且可能会让你更惊诧的是，学会如何死也要用一生的时间。那么多精英人物都放下负担，放弃财产、放弃生意、放弃享乐，把学习如何生活作为自己余生的目标。但这些逝者生前大都坦言他们还是没有弄明白这个问题——其他人就更不明白了。相信我，伟人、圣人的标志就是从不浪费自己的时间，他的寿命之所以长久是因为他将自己所有的时间全部为己所用，没有闲置，没有荒废，没有置于别人的掌控之下。作为自己时间的监护人，他精打细算，从未发现有什么东西值得用自己的时间交换。所以他有足够的时间，而那些长时间被公事所扰的人必定自己所剩无多了。

你能想到这些人有时也会感到若有所失。确实，你会听到有些为巨大财富所累的人有时会在一群门客当中，在法院辩护时，或在做着其他体面而又痛苦的事时大喊“不能活了”。当然不能了，所有找你办事的人都让你远离了自我。被告人窃走了你多少天？那个候选人呢？那个为自己继承人送了葬之后疲惫不堪的老妪呢？还有那个装病来挑起遗产继承人贪欲的人呢？还有那个把你这样的人当朋友不是为了友谊，而是为了炫耀的颇有势力的朋友呢？我跟你说呀，把这一辈子的日子标示出来盘点一下，你会发现自己所剩极少——而且都是边角废料。某人得到了垂涎已久的职权却又想弃之不顾，反复说着：“这一年怎么还不到头呀？”另一位觉得能有机会来举办竞赛是了不起的成功〔11〕，但是一旦举办，他又说：“什么时候我才能脱身呀？”这位演讲者受到广场四面八方听众的捧场，台下挤满了听众，远处的根本听不到他的讲演，而他却说：“什么时候才能休假呢？”每个人都在为生计奔忙，因渴望未来、厌倦现在而烦恼。但是将自己的时间为己所用的人，总是把每一天安排得像是最后一天的人，他们既不渴望又不惧怕明天的到来。现在每个时辰还会给他带来什么新的乐事呢？他一切都尝试过了，充分享受过了，再有其他的，命运尽可自行安排了。他现在无忧无虑，这样的一生什么都不会被拿走，而只能为其添加内容，就像一个吃饱了的人已不再需要任何食物，但是再加点儿也还能吃下。所以不要以为头发花白满脸皱纹的人就是活得长，他不是活得长，只是在世上待的时间长。如果一个人出海遇到狂风暴雨，被变幻肆虐的风吹得团团转，你可能会觉得他航行了很远，其实航行得并不远，只是浮沉动荡的时间长而已。

看到有的人想要占用别人的时间，而对方又欣然应允，我总是感到惊讶。双方都只是想到了占用时间的事由，都没有考虑到时间本身——似乎什么都没索取，什么都没付出。因为时间是无形的，无法明摆着被查看，因而被认为是很廉价的——几乎没有任何价值。这一点蒙蔽了人们，使他们忽视了这人生最宝贵的商品。人们接到养老金、抚恤金时会很高兴，为这些钱他们曾付出劳动、提供援助或者服务。但是没有人计算时间的价值——人们大肆挥霍，好像它毫无价值。但就是这些人，如果受到死亡的威胁，你就会看到他们向大夫乞求；如果他们惧怕死刑，为了保命他们会倾其所有。情绪完全不一样了呀。如果我们每个人能像计算过去岁月那样将未来的岁月当面推算出来，那些看到自己来日不多的人会是怎样震惊呀，他们将会怎样小心翼翼地利用这些时间呀！而且如果数目确定下来，无论多小的数目，也就容易安排了。对于那不知会在什么时候戛然而止的生命我们得更慎重地存留。

但是你不要认为这些人不知道时间有多么宝贵。他们一般会对特别喜欢的人说他们会将一些岁月付出，而且他们确实在无意识中付出了。不过这礼物使他们自己有所失却而并未使别人有所得。但他们其实并不知道自己是否有所失，这样他们就能承受自己在无知中受到的损失了。岁月不能倒流，人生无法复原，生命沿着它初始的路线前行，既不会倒退也不作更改。它不会发出响动提醒你它的迅驰，而是无声无息向前溜走。它不会因帝王的指令或平民的喜好而延长。它从第一天起步，一路前行，没有停顿，没有转向。那么结果呢？当生命匆匆前行的时候，你曾沉迷不悟，这期间死亡降临，而你对此别无选择，只能接受。

还有比自吹有远见卓识的人更白痴的吗？为了改善生活，他们煞费苦心，用生命安排生命。他们把目标设定于遥远的未来。但是拖延就是对生命最大的浪费：它夺走了到来的每一天，寄望未来，而放弃现在。生活的最大障碍就是期待，期待使人心系明天而失去今日。你安排的是命运掌控的东西，却放弃了自己手中的东西。你在看什么？在为什么目标而操劳？所有的未来都是不确定的：马上开始生活。倾听我们伟大诗人的呼唤吧，他仿佛受到神谕的启示，吟唱出极富教益的诗句：

对于这里不幸的人们来说，

生命中最美好的一天总是最先消失的一天。〔12〕

他的意思是说，“你为什么闲逛？”，“你为什么无所事事？你不先抓住它，它就会溜走”。而即使你抓住它，它仍会跑掉。所以你利用时间时必须使自己适应时间那瞬间即逝的速度，你必须像从一条随时可能枯竭的激流中喝水一样快速敏捷。为谴责那种无休止的拖延，诗人很委婉地用了“最美好的一天”而不是“最美好的岁月”。你贪婪也罢，但为什么要如此漠然如此怠惰拖拉（而时间正在飞逝），把今后几个月几年的时间都一溜儿排开摆在眼前？诗人讲的是当下这一天——而且是正在溜走的这一天。所以对于不幸的人——就是那些沉迷于杂务中的人——来说，最美好的一天总是最先溜掉的一天，这难道还有疑问吗？当他们心理还很幼稚时，年纪却已变老，对此他们毫不准备毫不设防，因为他们没有准备，突然间不期而遇，根本没意识到它早已一天天逼近。就像旅行者以聊天、阅读或沉思冥想打发时间，不知不觉中发现已经到达目的地。所以在人生这一疾驰不停的旅途中，无论是醒着还是睡着都是同速前行，那些沉迷于杂务的人只有到旅行结束才会有所知觉。

如果我要把这个论题分为几个小标题并提供证据，我会找出很多论据来证明：凡是沉迷于杂务的人，都会觉得生命很短促。但是，法比亚诺斯〔13〕——他绝非现在的学院派哲学家，而是那种真正的老派的哲学家——经常说我们必须对激情进行暴力攻击，而不能采取逻辑推理，必须对敌人的战线给以猛烈进攻，而不只是用针刺。恶习必须被击溃，不能只是戳戳而已。尽管如此，为了让这些人对自己的过失反省自责，必须对他们进行教育，而不能放任不管。

生命分为三个阶段：过去，现在和将来。这其中，现在是短暂的，将来是不确定的，过去是定型了的。对于过去，命运已无力掌控，任何人也无法重新掌控。而这也正是那些沉迷于杂务者失去的东西，因为他们没有时间回首往事，即便有，回忆那些抱愧终生的事也是不愉快的，所以他们不愿意再想那些荒废的时光，如果那些恶习还清晰可现他们也没有胆量再去回想——即使那些曾被一时欢乐的魔力掩饰了阴险手段的恶行。没人愿意回到过去，除非他的所有行为都通过了良心的自我审查，这是无法自欺欺人的。那些不敢回首往事的人都是贪得无厌、妄自尊大、急功近利、见利忘义、巧取豪夺、穷奢极欲之徒。然而过去是我们时间的一部分，是神圣的、独立的，超越人类面临的一切不幸，超出命运的掌控，不为欲望、恐惧、疾病所困扰，无人能妨碍它，褫夺它，那是一种无法干预的、持久的拥有。我们是一天一天、一分钟一分钟地过眼前的日子。但是过去的日子却可以全部出现在你的脑海里。你可以任意扣留它们，审视它们——而那些沉迷杂务的人是无暇这样做的。这是一种平静的、没有任何烦扰的心境，它可以徜徉于生命的每个阶段，而那些杂务缠身者的心呢，就像套上了马轭不能回头看。所以他们的生命消失于无底深渊，如同液体倒进无底的容器，徒劳无益。所以无论给我们多少时间，如果无处安放，它还是会从心里的缝隙或漏洞中溜走。眼前的时间极其短暂，因此很多人都没意识到它的存在。因为它永远向前，步履匆匆，稍纵即逝；它曾在到来前停息，从此再无耽搁，如同天空抑或星辰，斗转星移，从未原地止步。所以杂务缠身者只关注现在，而现在的时光是如此短促，根本无法抓住，甚至在他们沉溺于各种娱乐活动时就被窃取了。

总之，你想知道他们为什么不能长寿吗？看看他们是如何渴望长生不老吧。羸弱的老翁乞求再多活几年；他们假装更年轻，并以此自慰，极力欺骗自己的同时也欺骗命运。但是疾病会提醒他们寿数已尽，面对死亡他们是如此恐惧，似乎不是度过生命，而是被拖拽而去。他们大喊大叫说自己是傻瓜，因为他们还没有真正活过呢，倘若病痛痊愈，他们会悠闲安度余生。接着他们回想起他们巧取豪夺却无缘享受是多么的徒劳，他们的辛苦是多么的徒劳。不过对于那些远离一切杂务的人来说，生命一定是足够长了，没有挥霍，没有虚掷，没有任命运摆布，没有漫不经心地丢失，没有无度施舍而浪费，没有多余，可以说全部生命都用在了有效的投资。所以无论生命如何短暂，都是充实的，因此无论末日何时到来，理智的人都会以坚实的步伐义无反顾地迎接死神的降临。

也许你想知道我把什么人叫做“杂务缠身者”吧。你不会认为我指的是那些得靠看门犬〔14〕才能逐出法院的人吧，或那些你常见的要么被自己的支持者体面地、要么被别人的支持者轻蔑地击垮的人，或是那些为履行社会职责从自家蹿出去敲别人家大门的人，或者那些在执政官拍卖矛〔15〕下忙于钻营而终有一天使自己臭名昭著的人。有人即使赋闲也会也让自己杂务缠身：在自家的乡村房舍中，在长椅上，在独处时，甚至在一个人的时候，他们都不能好好陪陪自己。你不能说那些人的生活是悠闲的，那不过是无所事事的心不在焉。你能说那个神情焦虑却一丝不苟地摆弄科林斯铜器的人悠闲吗？几个收藏家的狂热使这些青铜价格虚涨，他们每天大部分时间都花在这些金属的斑斑锈迹上。那个坐在格斗场（我们的耻辱呀！我们还要忍受着那些不是来自罗马的恶行）急切地看着斗士们角逐的人悠闲？那个为自己成群的驮畜按年龄和颜色配对的人悠闲？为竞技新秀提供生活费的人悠闲？还有，有些人在理发店花好几个小时就是为了剪掉一夜之间长出的那点儿头发，为那几根分散的较真儿，把乱了的理顺，将日渐稀疏的头发从两鬓梳过来盖在前额，理发员稍有不慎他们就会大为光火——就好像他们剪掉的是个真人！如果剪错了，或梳得不对，或没有全部束入发圈，他们就会勃然大怒，你能说他们悠闲？这些人有几个不是任由国家骚乱却不想让自己的头发凌乱，有几个不是对脑袋的潇洒比对它的安全更操心，有几个不是重整洁而轻荣誉？那些把时间都花在梳子和镜子之间的人，你能说他们悠闲？还有一些人，整天忙于作曲、听音乐、学唱歌，他们变着声发出极不自然的音调，而自然设计的最优美最纯朴的音调应该是直接发出来的；有的人总是打着响指，就好像为心里想着的曲调打着节拍子；甚至在一些严肃的，甚至是悲痛的场合你都能听见他们哼着小调。这些人的生活不是悠闲，只能说是闲散地干着事。还有，老天呀，那些宴会，我可不认为那是悠闲的时光。看他们如何紧张地摆放银器，如何认真地让侍者穿上制服，如何焦虑不安地看着厨师处理猪肉，一脸恭敬的奴仆们如何快步流星地忙来忙去，如何熟练地把家禽切成合适的块儿，那些卑微的小奴仆如何小心翼翼地为酒鬼们擦去口水。这一套玩意儿使他们慢慢获得高雅、有品味的名声，这些做法甚至延伸到私生活的所有方面，以至于现在没有这些铺张虚华，他们既不能吃也不能喝了。

还有些人我也不认为他们是悠闲的。这些人坐在轿子上被抬来抬去，总是那么准时，好像不坐就会有人不答应；另有些人，总得有人告诉他们什么时候沐浴，什么时候游泳，什么时候进餐——过度放纵麻木的头脑使他们变得萎靡不振，以至于自己都不能确定饥饱。我听说有这么一个放纵的人——如果“放纵”可以用来形容那些摈弃了人类生活中一般习惯的人——当被人从浴室抬到轿子上时，他问，“我现在是在坐着吗？”你觉得这个连自己是不是坐着都不知道的人是否知道自己还活着，还能看，很悠闲呢？很难说，是在他真不知道的情况下我该可怜他，还是他假装不知道时我该可怜他。他们确实遗忘了很多东西，但也佯装遗忘了很多东西。他们以某些恶行为乐，以此证明自己的好运；好像知道自己在做什么，就是非常卑微低下的人。这之后看看你是否还会指责那些笑剧演员，他们创作了很多情节抨击骄奢淫逸的作风，其实他们忽略的远比已经创作的多。这么多难以置信的恶行出现在这一代，表明这个方面真是人才辈出，所以我们现在真的要责备那些忽略了它们的笑剧演员了。想一想有人如此沉溺于奢华的生活以至于得让别人来告诉他是否在坐着！所以这个人不是悠闲自在，必须得用另外的词语来描述他——有病，或者干脆说他是死人。真正悠哉游哉的人会知道自己是不是悠闲的，而这个人半死不活，需要别人告诉他自己身体的姿势——这样的人怎么能控制自己的时间呢？

一一谈论那些把所有时间用在下棋或打球，或精心进行阳光浴的人是很无聊的。那些要郑重其事地从事某种活动来获得乐趣的人不是悠闲之人。譬如，毋庸置疑，那些把时间用在没有价值的文学研究的人是徒劳无益的——甚至在罗马人中也有很多人在从事这项工作。要搞清尤利西斯有多少桨手，是先有《伊里亚特》还是先有《奥德赛》，以及，它们是否是同一个作者。还有诸如此类的其他问题原本只是希腊人干的傻事。这些内容自己留用，不能增加个人的知识；用于发表，只能令人生厌而无人把你当成学者。而罗马人现在也对这些无用的知识充满了无端的热忱。最近我听到有人报道诸如哪个罗马将军率先做的这个或者那个的传闻：杜伊流斯是赢得海战第一人，库里乌斯·丹塔图斯率先让大象引领了凯旋队列。至于这些事，即便它们还算不上建立了功勋，但至少与对国家作出卓越贡献相关。这些知识毫无用处，之所以让人们感兴趣就是因为这些毫无意义的事实的吸引力。我们还可以原谅那些调查谁是第一个说服罗马人登船的人。是克劳迪乌斯，他因此又被称为科德克斯（Caudex），因为几块木板连在一起的东西在古代被称为Caudex 。又因此，法典叫科德克斯（Codices）〔16〕，而至今那些在台伯河上运送给养的船仍沿袭使用过去的名字科德克利阿（Codicariae）。无疑，了解瓦勒里乌斯·科尔维鲁斯是第一位征服了麦萨拿的人也是颇为重要的，而且他是瓦勒里家族第一个用所征服的城市麦萨拿的名字做姓氏的人——这个姓在口口相传中被错拼成麦萨拉（Messalla）。也许你也可以容许有些人把卢西乌斯·苏拉第一个放狮子出现在竞技场的事当真吧，通常这些狮子是带着链条展示的，国王博库斯派标枪手杀死了它们。了解庞培干的那件事可能也是可以谅解的——但是有意义吗？——他是让18头大象在竞技场展示了与无辜之人搏斗场面的第一人。一个国家的首领，一个据称在老一辈的领导人中尤其慈善的人，竟认为这是令人难忘的以新颖方式屠戮人类的奇观。“让他们战死？不够刺激；把他们撕成碎片？不够刺激；得让硕大无比的动物把他们蹍碎。”这类事最好还是永远忘掉，免得将来被某些大权在握的人知道了，还不想让人在干这种惨无人道的事情上超越他们。啊，那繁华盛世给我们心里投下了怎样的阴霾啊。当他让这不同种类的生灵相互搏斗的时候，当他在罗马人面前制造血流成河的场面，而这些罗马人随即又将被迫流血的时候，他认为自己是超越自然法则的，他可以将那么多可怜的人投向外来的野兽。可是后来他自己呢，亚历山大人背叛了他，他最终被最卑微的奴隶刺死，直到那时他才明白，自己的姓氏（Great）不过是虚妄的自吹。

不过，还是言归正传吧，接着谈一些人如何徒劳无益地研究同一些话题。我所提到的那个人汇报说梅特卢斯在西西里征服了迦太基人以后用120头大象在他的二轮战车前开道，这在所有的罗马人中独一无二，而苏拉则是最后一个延长城界的罗马人。一旦占领意大利（从来都不是行省）的领土，就延长城界，这是一种古老的做法。了解这些比知道另一件事更好吗？他曾断言阿芬丁山之所以在城界之外，或是因为平民都撤到那儿，或是因为瑞摩斯神曾在那里占卜说飞禽是不吉的——后来还有无数理论都是错误的或者几乎无异于谎言。即便你承认他们这样说是出于虔诚，即便他们保证所说的是真实的，谁的错少一些呢？谁的热情会受到限制呢，会让谁更自由，更公正，更宽宏大量？法边诺斯曾说，有时他很想知道，干脆什么研究都不搞是不是比总纠缠这些问题更好。

在所有人中，只有那些把时间用于研究哲学的人是真正悠游自在的，只有他们算是活着的。因为他们不仅仔细关注自己的人生，而且将所有年代收为己有，把过去所有的岁月都加到他们自己的岁月里。除非我们不领情，否则应该承认所有那些书写了神圣教义的伟大先哲都是为我们而生，为我们指出一条人生之路。他人的艰辛工作引导我们，使我们面对的事物从暗昧走向显明。没有任何年代将我们拒之门外，我们可以接近所有时代；如果我们具备了崇高思想，能够跨越人类弱点的狭窄界限，就可以在久远的时间大道上徜徉。我们可以与苏格拉底辩论，向卡尼阿德斯质疑，与伊壁鸠鲁共度退隐的生活，和斯多葛学派的哲学家一起克服人性弱点，与犬儒派学者共同超越人性的局限。既然自然允许我们与每一时代结交，为什么不舍弃这短暂的现时，全身心地研究过去。那是无尽的、永恒的，可与睿智的先哲共享的时光。

那些为社会职责到处奔波的人不仅扰乱自己而且侵扰他人的生活。他们要按时完成狂热的巡回，每日穿行于各家各户，不漏掉一家开启的大门，带着自私的问候走遍相隔甚远的家家户户。在如此大的城市，面对各种欲求，他们能拜见到的究竟能有几个人？有多少人因为昏昏欲睡，或正忙于自己的事，或冷漠无理而将他们拒之门外？有多少人让他们煎熬等待多时后，佯装急事在身，从他们身边匆匆而过？有多少人不走挤满门客的大厅而从隐秘的旁门逃走——好像欺骗并不比拒绝更失礼似的？有多少人头天酗了酒此时半睡半醒，慵懒迷糊，不雅地打着哈欠，还得要别人低声地、上千遍地提醒，才能连嘴唇几乎都不动地与那个为了等别人睡醒而不得不中断自己睡眠的可怜虫打招呼，叫出他的名字？

你应该这样认为：那些希望每天成为芝诺、毕达哥拉斯、德谟克利特以及其他所有人文学科的宗师们，还有亚里斯多德和色奥弗拉斯多的最亲近朋友的人，才是在履行真正有价值的职责。这些人不会因为太忙而不接见你，他们都会让到访者高兴地离去，并且变得更加专注于自身，而绝不会空手而归。他们日夜在家恭候所有人的到访。

他们没有人会强迫你去死，而是教你如何去死。这些人不会耗费你的时间，他们每个人都会将自己的岁月奉献与你。与这些人的谈话不会有任何危险，他的友谊不会危及你的生命，拜访他不需你付出高昂代价。从他们那里你想拿什么就拿什么，如果没有拿够，那不是他们的错。成为这些人的门客，是多么幸福，老年生活将会多么惬意！你将会有很多朋友，事无巨细都可以向他们讨教，你可以每天就自己的事向他们咨询，这些朋友会告诉你真话但不会刺伤你，表扬你但不会奉承你，他们会为你提供一种仿效模式。

我们总习惯说自己无力选择父母，他们是命运偶然间配送给我们的。但是我们可以做我们愿意做的任何人的孩子。有很多高尚的才智超群的家庭，选择你希望被收养的那一家，你将不仅继承其姓氏而且还能继承其财产。这些财产不需要吝啬小气地看管，分享的人越多，它就越巨大。这些将为你提供一条永生之路，将你提升到一个任何人都不会沮丧的地方。这是延续生命——甚至永生不朽的唯一方法。荣誉、纪念碑，无论雄心勃勃的家伙们通过法令颁布什么，或在公共建筑物上竖起什么，顷刻之间都会损毁，没有任何东西是时间的流逝不能将其损毁和移除的。但是它无法损毁那些被哲学界视为神圣的作品，岁月无法消灭、减损它们。下一个、每一个随后的年代，只能使它们备受敬重，因为人们只嫉妒眼前的事物，而对遥不可及的东西却毫不掩饰赞赏之情。所以哲学家的生命可以绵延广阔，他不受他人所受的限制，只有他不受人类法则的限制，在所有的年代都被视为神明。一些过去的时光，他抓住，藏入记忆；眼下的时光，他利用；未来的时光，他预见：所有这些组合成他绵长的人生。

但是对于忘记过去、忽略现在、恐惧未来的人来说，生命是短暂的、焦灼不安的。在末日到来时，这些可怜的家伙才意识到他们一生无所事事，但为时已晚。有时他们乞求死神的到来，但是这并不能证明他们长寿。愚昧无知使他们焦躁不安而备受折磨，害怕的事情偏偏发生：他们之所以渴望死，是因为他们害怕死。他们感到度日如年，或者在预定吃饭的钟点到来前抱怨每个小时都过得那么慢，也都不能证明他们活得长了。因为一旦他们没有杂务缠身，他们就会因无事可做、不知如何利用空闲或打发光阴而坐立不安，他们会急于找点儿其他的事情来做，而在这期间他们会厌倦烦躁。确实如此，正如宣布了一场角斗开始时，或人们期待某个展览或娱乐活动时的心情一样——他们急于想跳过这中间的一段时间。任何期盼已久的事情的拖延对他们来说都是漫长而乏味的，真正享受的时间是短暂而快速的，而且会由于他们的过失而使这享受更短促，因为他们急匆匆地追求一种又一种享受，不能固守一种欲望。他们过的每天不是长久的而是令人懊恼的；而另一方面，在他们酗酒嫖娼的过程中，夜晚似乎也变得短暂了，因而就有癫狂的诗人们编撰故事描绘朱庇特沉溺于做爱的欢愉，把夜晚也加长了一倍，以此来助长人性的弱点。他们援引神来支持这些人，让神也变得荒淫无度，还为他们开脱，当成我们过错的先例，这除了加剧恶行还能有什么意义？他们付出高昂代价得到的夜晚对这些人来说难道不是太短暂了吗？他们等待夜幕而失去白昼，惧怕天明而丧失夜晚。

即便在极尽淫乐之时他们也会因种种恐惧而不安、焦虑。就在纵情享乐达到高潮时，烦躁忧虑的情绪悄然而至，“还能持续多长时间？”这种情绪曾使国王们对手中的权力发出哀叹，想到末日无可避免终究会来，他们感到惶惶不可终日，远远胜过好运带给他们的快乐。当波斯国最骄横不可一世的国王〔17〕派遣军队跨过广袤的平原时，数不胜数的军队只能估量其规模，想到百年之后这庞大的队伍将无人幸免一死，他不禁潸然泪下。而就是他这个泪流满面的人给他们带来厄运，使他们丧生于海洋、陆地、战场、溃逃路上，用不了多久就会全军覆没，而他还在担心他们的百年大限。

是什么使他们即使在高兴时也会忐忑不安？因为他们的快乐理由不足。快乐是被煸动起来的，没有根基。身居高位的快乐都并不牢靠，那些快乐他们自己都承认是可悲的，又何足挂齿？所有的好运都会产生忧患，受到命运垂青时，总是我们最不信命的时候。为了保住已有的成就我们需要其他的成就；为了证明已经实现的祈祷我们需要再次祈祷。任何意外所获都是不稳定的，地位越高越容易跌倒。注定要倒台的东西，不能为任何人带来快乐。所以对于那些经过千辛万苦获得的成就要用更大的辛苦保住的人来说，生活必定不仅短暂而且痛苦。他们辛辛苦苦获得想要的一切，又要忧心忡忡保有所得的一切，而这当中他们从没有考虑过时间成本，而时光流逝，韶华无返。新的嗜好代替了旧的，希望激起更多的希望，野心衍生更大的野心。他们没有设法结束苦难，只是不断为它变换理由。我们发现自己在公众中享有的荣耀是一种痛苦，但是却为他人的荣耀花费更多的时间。我们不再费力争当候选人，却又开始为其他人拉票。我们已经摆脱了当起诉人的烦恼，却又承担起当法官的麻烦。有人不再当法官却当起法院院长，在挣钱管理别人财产的工作中年事日高，于是又将所有时间用于照看自己的财产。马略结束戎马生涯却又开始忙于执政官的工作；昆提乌斯很快完成独裁者之职，但又在犁地时被召回；西庇奥在还没有足够的指挥经验时就去与迦太基人打仗，打败了汉尼拔，战胜了安提奥库斯，成了杰出的执政官，确保了他弟弟的职位。如果不是他自己禁止，他的塑像就会立在朱庇特的旁边了。但是国家的动荡困扰着拯救国家的人，他年轻时就蔑视那些只应赋予神的荣耀，最终老了，他执意过着流放的生活，并乐在其中。总有焦虑的原因，或因为富足，或因为窘迫。生活滚滚向前，一个牵绊接着一个牵绊。我们总是渴望悠闲自得的生活，但却从未享受过。

所以，亲爱的保利努斯，从人群中脱身吧。你已经经历了超出自己年龄的太多的狂风暴雨，现在至少应该退隐到一个平静的港湾，想一想经历了多少风浪，多少暴雨——有些是在私人生活中经受的，有些则是在公共活动中。你是积极、勤勉的典范，你的美德长期以来有目共睹，尝试一下，在休闲的生活中如何继续保持。你生命的大部分，当然也是最美的一部分，已经献给了国家，现在也给自己一些时间吧。我不是让你无所事事慵懒怠惰，也不是让你在蒙头大睡和那些大众喜好的娱乐中消磨你自身的能量。这不是休息。当你退隐并享受平和的心境，你会发现有很多比你迄今为止一直积极从事的要重要得多的活动值得你为之忙碌。没错，你是在管理世界的账目，像管理他人的一样严谨，像管理自己的一样仔细，像管理国家的一样认真。在这种难免遭人怨恨的工作中你却赢得了人们的爱戴，但是相信我，读懂自己人生的资产负债单要比看懂玉米生意的负债单更有意义。你要从这光荣、但很难说适于幸福的生活的工作中摆脱出来，恢复你旺盛的精力和承担伟大责任的卓越才能。你要想想年轻时人文学术方面的训练，其目的并非是将成千上万次将玉米称重的工作放心地托付于你。你曾向自己承诺要做更有价值更伟大的事情。他们不缺少称职的、努力工作的人。呆头呆脑的驮畜比纯种马更适合驮重，谁会让马负重而减缓其疾弛的速度？再想想当你勉为其难承担如此繁重的责任时心情是多么焦虑。你解决的是人们吃饱肚子的问题，饥饿的人们既不听你讲理，又不会因受到公平待遇而心平气和，也不会因恳求而让步。最近，就是盖乌斯·凯撒死后的几天里——他死时还在感到心烦意乱呢（如果逝者也有感情就好了），因为他看到罗马人民还有够七天、或最多八天的食物维持生计，而他还在建桥造船，滥用国家的资源——我们面临着粮食匮乏的最艰难的时刻，比受围困的人的境况更糟。他仿效别国那个威风扫地的疯子国王，几乎毁掉这个城市，造成饥荒，以及饥荒之后全面的崩溃。那么那些负责谷物供应的人们面对石头、武器、火——还有盖乌斯的威胁时怎么想呢？他们以弥天大谎极力掩饰潜藏于国家要害部门的滔天大罪——他们这样做肯定也是情有可原的。某些疾病的治疗是不能让病人了解病情的，要是知道了，会使很多人不治而死。

你应该退休从事这些更安静、更安全、更重要的工作。你认为监督那些狡猾而且不负责任的货主将谷物毫发未损地运进谷仓、照看它们不要在热天受潮霉烂、并确保其重量与数量相吻合的工作与从事神圣高尚的研究是同样的工作吗？通过这些研究你可以了解神的实质，他的意志，他的生活方式，他的形态，知道什么样的命运在等待你的灵魂，当我们从身体解脱出来时自然会将我们安放何处，是什么力量在中心支撑着这个世界所有最重的元素，什么力量使最轻的元素悬浮于上，什么将火送往最高的地方，又是什么使星宿运行变幻有致——你可以不断学到很多无比神奇的其他知识，你真的应该离开那里，全身心投入到研究领域。趁现在血还是热的，就应该将精力投入到更有价值的事情上。这样的生活会使你发现很多值得研究的东西：对美德的热爱与实践、对激情的忘却、生与死的知识，以及心平气和的生活。

是的，那些杂务缠身者的状况确实可怜，但是最不幸的是那些人，他们甚至不是为自己的杂务缠身而辛苦，而是要根据别人的睡觉时间来调整自己的睡眠，根据别人的步法来行走，在爱与恨这些最自主的事情上也要唯他人之命是从。如果这种人想知道他们的生命多么短促，先让他们想想生命中属于自己的那部分是多么少吧。

所以，当你见到有人屡次官袍加身，或在广场名声大振，不要羡慕他们：这些都是以生命为代价获取的。为了某一年代能以他们的名字命名，他们耗尽自己所有的年代。有些人从事业开始就奋斗，一路拼搏，还没有到达自己雄心壮志的巅峰就结束了生命。有些人忍辱负重爬到至尊无上的地位，却又不禁黯然神伤，因为他们所有的艰辛都不过是为了一块墓志铭。有人年事已高便试图做些调整，产生新的希望，以期显得年轻，却发现羸弱的身体已不堪折腾。一位老者上气不接下气地在法庭上为完全陌生的当事人辩护，企图赢得那些根本不知情的旁观者的掌声，这是很丢人的场面。看到一个人在履行职责时累垮也是很不体面的，他并非因劳累过度而精疲力竭，而是因为自己的生活方式。同样丢人的是一个人在查看账目时咽了气，而那个等待已久的继承人笑着舒了一口气。有件事想起来了，不得不说说。塞克斯图斯·图拉纽斯是公认的办事审慎、认真的老者。当他九十高龄时，在他的请求下盖乌斯·凯撒恩准他退休，于是他让人将他放在床上，全家人聚齐哀悼他，好像他已经归天。整座房子都为老主人的歇息而悲哀，直到他又起来恢复工作。以身殉职真的就那么令人愉快吗？很多人都是这样，自己无力工作时仍想工作。他们挑战身体的虚弱，视暮年为痛苦，无端地认为人一老了就被弃置不用了。法律规定五十以后不当兵，六十以后不进元老院，法律赋予人们赋闲的权力，而人们自己却难以接受。掠夺别人又被人掠夺，互相干扰，彼此不得安宁，你使我痛苦，我使你痛苦。在这过程中，生命流逝，过得差强人意，缺少欢乐，精神状态也未得到改善。没人把死亡放在心上，没人对好高骛远的理想加以限制。确实，还有些人把身后的事都安顿停当了——规模宏大的墓穴，公共殿堂里的供奉，葬礼时的炫耀，下葬时的铺张。其实，这些人的葬礼只需举着火把和小蜡烛，他们的生命似乎才是最为短暂的〔18〕。

注释

〔1〕　保里努斯：塞内加的朋友，是主管罗马粮食供养的官员。

〔2〕　这是医药之父希波克拉底的名言。

〔3〕　这句诗的作者姓名不详。

〔4〕　奥古斯都大帝：罗马帝国的开国君主屋大维，又名奥古斯都，生于公元前63年9月23日死于公元14年8月19日，统治罗马43年。当他死去时，罗马元老院决定将他列入“神”的行列，并且将8月称为“奥古斯都”月。

〔5〕　指朱莉亚，因通奸罪被奥古斯都流放到潘达塔里亚岛。

〔6〕　马尔库斯　西塞罗（公元前106－43年）曾担任执政官、元老院元老、总督，是古罗马最有才华的思想家、政治家、哲学家、散文家、演说家之一。

〔7〕　喀提林曾与西塞罗竞争执政官的职位，失败后纠集了一帮对西塞罗不满的人企图武力推翻政府。西塞罗得知后向元老院揭露了他的阴谋并成功地敦促元老院宣布他为公敌，继而一举粉碎了他的阴谋。

〔8〕　克洛狄乌斯公元前58年为古罗马保民官，是西塞罗的政敌，曾提出针对西塞罗的放逐法案。

〔9〕　西塞罗因拒绝参加庞培、克拉苏、凯撒组成的前三头联盟而得罪了他们。

〔10〕　李维乌斯·杜路苏斯是公元前91年的保民官，曾提出谷物法并倡议给予意大利人以公民权。

〔11〕　在当时古罗马公众娱乐活动的管理权归执政官。

〔12〕　古罗马奥古斯都时期最重要的诗人维吉尔（前70～前19）《田园诗》中的诗句。

〔13〕　古罗马的一位哲学家，是塞内加非常敬佩的一位老师。

〔14〕　指每天天快黑时放进法院的看门狗，它们会向仍在工作的律师扑去，把他们赶回家。

〔15〕　指在当时被当作公共拍卖的标记插在地上的矛，这样的拍卖市场一般是拍卖战争中的缴获品或充公物品。

〔16〕　古代的法律抄本由固定在一处的木块组成。

〔17〕　指波斯帝国国王薛西斯，他于公元前480年入侵希腊。他在色雷斯的多里司科斯的平原上摆下他庞大的陆军，因人数太多，只能通过计算一块可容纳1万人的面积，然后乘以面积的倍数来估计。

〔18〕　意思是他们就像儿童一样，因为儿童的葬礼是在晚上举行，因而需要举着火把和蜡烛。

致赫尔维亚的告慰书〔1〕

最亲爱的母亲，我常常有一种冲动，想要安慰您，但又总是克制住了。促使我斗胆这样做的原因有很多。首先，当我想到即使不能阻止您流泪，至少可以为您抹去泪水时，我会把我自己所有的烦恼放置一边。其次，如果我能先让自己振作起来，肯定也会更有力量让您振作起来。另外，我担心虽然命运已被我征服，但她却可能征服我身边的亲人。所以，在止住自己的伤口流血之后，我倾尽所能，挣扎向前为您包扎伤口。但另一方面，一些其他的考虑又使我踟蹰不前。我意识到您的伤口初创正疼痛难忍，不该马上触动，以防慰藉本身会刺激它、让它发炎：病痛也是一样，没有什么比过早的治疗对它更有害了。所以我在等待，直到您的悲痛慢慢减轻，让时间来软化它，使它可以经受治疗，可以被触动、解决。此外，虽然我查阅了所有最著名的作者关于如何控制和缓解悲痛的著述，但还是找不到任何关于安慰自己的至亲、而自己本身又是他们所哀痛对象的实例，所以在这种尚无前例的情况下，我犹豫了，担心自己非但不能给您安慰，反而会刺激您的悲伤。而且，一个人从自己的棺椁中抬起头来安慰他的至爱亲人，需要的是那些有别于普通平常词汇的新奇话语。但巨大强烈的悲痛会剥夺人们选词遣句的能力，因为悲痛本身往往会抑制声音的发出。无论如何，我会尽最大力量，不是靠小聪明，而是因为我本人就是慰问者，所以自己也能成为最有效的慰藉。因为您从未拒绝我任何事，所以至少这一次也别拒绝我来终结您的忧伤（尽管悲痛总是很顽固的）。

想想由于您的纵容，我对自己作出了怎样的承诺。我毫不怀疑自己对您远比悲伤对您的影响更大，虽然没有什么比悲伤更能影响不幸的人。所以，为了不和它立即发生冲突，我会首先支持它，给它很多鼓励：我会重新揭开、暴露那些已经愈合的伤口。有些人会反对：“这算什么安慰，把已忘却的疾病又找回来，在心灵连一种伤痛都几乎无法忍受的情况下，让它又看到所有的悲痛？”但是想一想，那些危及生命的病尽管经过治疗，还是难以除根，这类病一般来说是要采取逆向疗法的。所以我要让心灵先感受痛苦，给它穿上丧服：这不是温和的处方，而是烧灼与刀割。我想达到什么目的？我要让一个战胜了很多苦难的心灵，羞于为伤痕累累的身体上又出现一个伤口而焦虑。所以让那些人继续哭泣、哀叹吧：长久的安乐生活已经将他们自我放纵的心灵变得很脆弱，让他们受到微小伤痛的威胁就崩溃吧；而让那些长期经受苦难的人们以勇敢坚强来忍受最大的伤痛。长久的不幸确有好的一面，它使饱受折磨的人们最终变得坚忍不拔。

命运从未停止给您带来痛苦，甚至从您出生的那一天都未能幸免。您一出生，不，甚至您正在出生时就失去了母亲，在生命的初始就有了被遗弃的感觉。您在继母的照顾下长大，是您用亲生女儿般的敬重与孝顺使她成为一位名副其实的母亲。然而，即便有一个好继母也会让孩子付出很大代价。正当您期盼舅舅的到来时，您却失去了他——一个最善良、最优秀、最勇敢的人。祸不单行，命运似乎唯恐还不够残酷，不到一个月的时间您又掩埋了给了您三个孩子的最亲爱的丈夫。噩耗传来，您还沉浸在悲痛之中，而三个孩子又都不在身边。厄运似乎有意集中到这个时候，使您的悲哀无处宣泄。危难与恐惧不断向您袭来，我不再一一赘述。但最近同样的厄运再次袭来，您放三个孙子出门，取回来的却是他们的三具尸骨。我的儿子在您的怀抱中，在您的亲吻中死去。掩埋他不到二十天，您就听到我被带走的消息。这是唯一您还没有经历过的——为生者悲伤。

在所有刺痛您的伤害中，我承认，这最近的是最令您伤心的，岂止是切肤之痛，简直是撕心裂肺、五内俱焚。但是正如新兵，即使表皮受点伤也会尖叫，害怕医生给他处理伤口，好像那比刀刺都可怕；而老兵呢，即使伤势很重，也会忍着一声不吭地让医生清理伤口，似乎身体不是自己的，所以您现在必须勇敢地等待疗伤。好啦，把那些哭泣、悲伤、以及女人们通常悲哀的聒噪表示都收起吧。如果您还没有学会如何承受不幸，那些痛苦您就白受了。我看起来对您这样够胆大了吧？我没有隐藏您所遭受的任何苦难，而是把它们全堆到您面前。

我已经在勇敢对您进行治疗了，是因为我决定要战胜您的苦痛，而不是自欺欺人。而且，如果我首先就能表明，在我这样的情况下，我所有的一切都不足以称为不幸（更不用说会让那些亲属感到不幸了），然后，我能够向您表明您的命运同样不是痛苦的，因为您的命运完全取决于我的命运，我想我就能征服您的痛苦了。

首先，我要陈述一个事实，这是您出于爱而希望听到的：我并没有受苦。我说得清楚些，如果能的话，那种处境，就是您以为会令我崩溃的处境，是可以忍受的；但是如果您不相信，至少我对自己能够在正常情况下别人感到很不幸的处境中活得很愉快这点是很满意的。没有必要相信别人对我的传言，我肯定地告诉您我并没有什么不幸的，这样您就不要半信半疑地焦虑苦恼了。为让你放心，我还要告诉您，根本就没有什么能让我不幸。

我们生在原本优越的环境中，是我们放弃了这种环境。幸福的生活不需要什么优良的装备，这是自然的本意：每一个人都能使自己幸福，外部的东西并不重要，顺境与逆境都没有多大的影响：顺境不能抬高圣贤，逆境也无法降低他，因为他总是尽力最大可能地依靠自己，从自身获取全部的乐趣。什么？我把自己称为先哲了？当然没有。如果我能，我不仅会否认自己是不幸的，我还要声称自己是最幸运的，已经离神很近了。正如现在这样，为了尽最大的努力来减少不幸，我现在已经拜倒在智者的脚下，由于自己还未坚强到可以自助，我就投身于另一阵营——我是指那些能够很轻松地保护自己及其追随者的人们。他们命令我像站岗的卫兵一样站稳，还要能够尽早地预见命运的进攻与突袭。命运总是猛烈袭击那些毫无预警的人，而那些对其早有预警的人就会轻而易举地抵挡她的进攻。敌人的到来只会使那些疏于警戒的人溃不成军，而对于那些在战争来临之前早就列队整装、从容应对的人们来说，就可以轻松地抵御敌人的首次进攻，而首次冲击往往是最猛烈的。我从来未敢信任命运，即便有时她看似平和。所有她好心施惠于我的东西——金钱、官职、权势——我都束之高阁，以便将来她索要之时可以直接从那里拿走而不必烦扰我。我一直与这些东西保持很大的距离，所以她只是将它们取走了，而不是夺走。如果不是最初被命运的恩惠所骗，人们是不会在受到她的攻击时溃散的。那些喜欢她的礼物，把它们当成自己永远所有，并想因之受到别人羡慕的人，在那虚假短暂的快乐背弃了他们虚伪、幼稚、无视长久快乐的心智时，就会变得低三下四、伤心欲绝。但是，在顺境中不飘飘然的人在形势发生变化时就不会崩溃。他已经经过考验变得坚忍不拔，保持面对任何境遇都不可战胜的心态：因为幸运时他已练就自己应对逆境的力量。所以我从来不相信在人们祈望得到的东西中有什么是真正的好处，而且我发现它们都是空虚的，外表涂有耀眼诱人的色彩，而内部全然无法与之相匹配。而现在，在这些所谓的罪恶中，我并没发现什么可怕或险恶的东西，一般的看法都是危言耸听。当然，“流放”这词是由于某种成见和公众的信服而传到耳朵里的，那么刺耳，让听者感到郁闷、厌恶。因为这是大众的看法，而智者总的说来并不接受大众的看法。

所以，把这多数人的判断放到一边，因为这些人被事情的表面所蒙蔽，不管他们相信表象的原因是什么，还是让我们好好看看流放的真实意思吧：很清楚，就是换个地方。我不应该缩小它的力量抹掉它最坏的特点，所以我同意，换个地方会带来诸如贫穷、耻辱、蔑视这些弊端。这些我会在后面谈到，同时还要谈谈更换处所所带来的苦恼。

“被驱逐出自己的国家，这简直难以忍受。”好吧，看看这群人，偌大的罗马几乎容纳不下他们，而这些人大部分都是背井离乡。他们从自己的城市或属地，应该说从世界各地，聚集到一起，有的心怀抱负，有的履行公务，有的肩负使命，有的就是想找一个乌七八糟的地方以方便自己沉溺于某种恶习，有的怀着对人文研究的热爱，有的参观公演，有的为了友谊，有的精力旺盛来寻得一方广阔天地以展示自己的才能，有的出卖色相，有的推销辩才。各色人等都迫不及待地涌入这个既看重美德也放纵恶行的城市。挨个问问他们来自何方，你会发现大多数人是背井离乡来到一个伟大、漂亮，但不属于自己的城市。且不说罗马这个堪称属于所有人的城市，看看其他地方，每个城市里大部分人口都是移民。且不说那些位置优越方便而吸引很多人的城市，单那些人烟稀少满是石头的岛屿，西阿苏斯和赛里婆斯，吉阿鲁斯和柯苏拉，你会发现在所有这些流放地都有人愿意逗留。在这到处都是陡峭岩石的不毛之地能找到什么？还有比这里资源更匮乏的地方吗？还有比这里的人更野蛮的吗？还有比这里的地形更崎岖不平的吗？还有比这里的气候更反复无常的吗？然而，在这里居住的外来人比本地人还多。所以更换处所并不就是苦事，连这样的地方都能吸引人们离开自己的家乡。我曾无意中听人说过，在人的精神中有一种天生的不安分和渴望易地而居的冲动，人有一种求变、不安分的禀赋，它使人在任何地方都不能安于静止不动，而是到处奔走，向往那些已知的未知的地方，如同一个流浪者无法忍受止步不前，而主要以猎奇为乐。想想它的起源其实并不奇怪。它不是起源于质重、尘世的物质，而是来自天国的精神，而天国的东西的本质就是永动，以极快的速度流动驱走。看看那些点亮世界的星宿，没有一个是静止的。太阳永不停止地运行，从一个地方到另一个地方，虽然它同宇宙一起旋转，但其实是与天宇背道而驰。它经过黄道十二宫，不停运行，从一点到另一点，它的运动是永恒的。所有的行星都旋转而过，按不可抗拒的自然规律，从一开始就从一点到另一点地运行。经过固定的年限，完成巡行的路程之后，它们会重新开始，按先前的路线运行。人的思想成分如神造之物一样，所以当神造的自然在不停的极速运动中找到乐趣，甚至得以自我存续时，想到人们会反对迁移，反对易地而居该是多么的愚蠢啊。

好了，现在把您的注意力从天上转到人间吧，您会看到，所有的国家和民族都改变了居所。希腊的城市为什么建立在荒蛮的土地之上？为什么我们在印度人和波斯人中听到马其顿语？塞西亚和所有凶悍野蛮部落占据的广阔地区上却出现了蓬托斯沿岸的希腊城市，那里漫长的严冬和与天气相匹配的土著人的野蛮性格都无法阻止人们迁徙的活动。在亚洲有一群雅典人；米利都向那里派出足够的人员对七十五个城市进行殖民化；被下游海水冲刷的整个意大利海岸曾经是大希腊。亚洲声称伊特鲁里亚人归她所有；提尔人住在非洲，腓尼基人住在西班牙；希腊人迁入高卢，而高卢人移到希腊；比利牛斯山没有挡住日耳曼人迁徙的通道——走过没人踩过的道路，穿过无人知晓的土地，他们挑战人类不安分的特性，随后又接来了妻子、孩子和年迈的父母。有些人长期流浪并未刻意选择落脚地，但是旅途的疲劳使他们随即定居在一个最近的地方；有些人通过武力在别国立住了脚。有些部落在寻找未知地区时全部被大海淹没了，有些又因为给养殆尽而陷入进退两难的境地，于是便定居下来。人们背井离乡迁往别处的原因不尽相同，有的因为敌军进攻城市沦陷而逃离，失去自己的家园而被迫远走他乡；有些因民事纠纷而被驱除；有些是因为人口太多而被迫移民；有些是因为疫病，或地震，或土地贫瘠物资匮乏实在无法生存；还有那些关于沿海地区非常富足的夸大其词的报道，使有些人抵不住诱惑。不同的原因使不同的人离家出走，但至少这一点是清楚的——任何东西都没有停留在它的起点。人类总是在运动，大千世界每天都有变化——新的城市建立起来，新的国名出现了，旧的消失了，或者被更为强大的国家吞并。但是这些国家的迁徙除了使一个民族离境出走还有别的意义吗？我为什么要和您兜这么大圈子？为什么不厌其烦提到安特诺建立帕塔维乌姆，伊万德将阿卡迪亚王国建立在台伯河畔？狄俄墨得斯和其他人怎样？他们既是征服者，又是被征服者，特洛伊战争把他们撒落在他乡的土地上。唉，罗马帝国本身就曾把流放者当成它的缔造者，就是那个人，当他的故国沦陷后怀着对得胜者的恐惧，被迫带着几个幸存者，背井离乡，长途跋涉，来到意大利。接着，这个民族又在每个行省建了多少殖民地！罗马人每攻克一地，便在那里定居下来。老百姓自愿加入这样的移民行列，甚至连老人也会离开自己家的祭坛，移居海外。这一点不需进一步阐明了，但我要还要加上一个您眼前的例子：就是这个岛屿，它的居民就在经常更换。更不用说那些年长日久的已经说不清了的事了，现在住在马赛的希腊人，在他们离开福西斯后首先就定居在这个岛上，后来不知什么原因他们迁走了，是因为气候恶劣，还是因为看到意大利人权倾天下，抑或是因为缺少海港。但显然不是由于当地人的野蛮，因为他们在高卢时就居住在当时最凶蛮不开化的人中间。随后，利古里亚人来到这个岛，西班牙人也来了，证据便是他们有着相似的风俗习惯：科西嘉人戴的头巾、穿的鞋都和坎塔布里亚人相同，使用的一些词汇也相同——只有一部分，因为他们的语言在与希腊语和意大利土语融合过程中，总体上已经失去了本地的特征。接下来，罗马公民的两个属地的居民又被带到这里定居，一个是马略遣送来的，另一个是苏拉遣送来的。这个贫瘠不毛之地人口变更得却如此频繁！总之，您很难找到一个国家仍然只住着本土的原住民。各地都是五方杂处，四海熔融，一拨儿接着一拨儿：这伙人向往的是那伙人看不上的；一个人赶走了别人，另一个人又把他赶出去。所以命运注定任何东西都不会永远保持一成不变。

为了给真正的迁徙以补偿，并忘掉由于流放所引发的其他不便，罗马最博学的人法罗认为，我们无论走到哪里，所面对的自然的秩序都是相同的，这一点足够补偿了。马库斯·布鲁特斯认为流放者自己的美德是随身携带的，这一点就足够了。即便有人认为这两点分开来看都不足以慰藉流放者，他也得承认两者结合在一起就具有无上的力量。因为无论走到哪儿，只要有宇宙的本性和个人的德行这两种最宝贵的东西陪伴，我们失去的就微不足道了。相信我，这是造物主的意旨，无论是全能的神，创造巨著的无形力量，以均等压力渗透于所有从最大到最小物质的神圣精神，或命运之神及不可改变的因果顺序——我认为，这就是他的意旨，即我们财产中最没有价值的东西才会被置于别人的掌控之下。人类最好的东西是不受人类控制的：它既不能被赠予更不能被取走。自然所创造的伟大、辉煌的世界，以及注视它、惊叹它，并成为其中最耀眼部分的人的思想，是我们永恒的财产，将与我们同在。所以，满怀热切的希望，挺直胸膛，让我们以勇敢的步伐快速按境遇所指示的方向行进，让我们行走于任何国度：这个世界上没有流放地，因为对于人类来说没有什么地方是异国他乡，从地球表面的任何一个点遥望苍穹，神的领地与人之间的距离都是相等的。因此，只要我的眼睛不会离开那些永远看不够景象；只要我能仰望太阳、月亮，凝视其他的行星；只要我能追踪它们的盈昃升落，发现它们运行快慢的周期和原因；只要我能看到所有夜空中闪烁的星宿——有些原地不动，有些并未远行而是绕地环行，有些倏忽弹出，有些火花四射令人炫目缭乱，像是要坠落人间，抑或又拖着闪亮长尾一扫而过；只要我能够与它们交流，像人类至今可以做到的那样，与神结盟；只要我的心可以永远向上，努力追寻这类的光景——那么我立于何方又有什么关系呢？

“但是这个国家并不富足，没有苍翠繁茂、果实累累的树木；没有可供航行并以其河道之水灌溉国土的大河；它物产匮乏，连自己的居民都难以为继，更无他国所希缺的东西，没有贵重的大理石可以开采，没有金银矿脉可挖掘。”但是只对世俗的东西感兴趣是狭隘的心理，应该将其引向万方俱在、万方俱亮的东西。还须想到的是，由于人们对虚假物品的随意相信，世俗的东西会妨碍人们对真实物品的认识。柱廊越长，大厦建得越高，步道越宽，避暑洞穴挖得越深，餐厅的穹顶盖得越大，天国的景象也就越多地被遮蔽。命运将你抛向一个地方，在那里最豪华的住处不过就是一间棚屋。如果你知道关于罗慕路斯〔2〕小屋的故事而能勇敢地忍受这一点，那么你真的就会有一种无所谓的态度，而这也是少许的慰藉。你应这样说：“我想，这个简陋的小屋是庇护美德的，当人们看到那里有正义、节制、智慧、虔诚、能正确分配责任的制度，人与神的知识，它随之就会变得比任何庙堂都壮丽了。能够聚集如此多的高尚品德的地方不能算是狭小，能与此相伴的流放不能说是痛苦的。”

布鲁图斯〔3〕在他的《论品德》一文中说，他看到马塞卢斯〔4〕在米提勒涅流放时过着人性所能享有的快乐生活，而且对人文学科产生了从未有过的兴趣。而且，他加了一句说，当他打算离开马塞卢斯返回罗马时，他觉得他自己要被流放，而不是把别人留在了流放地。马塞卢斯感到这时能因流放而赢得布鲁特斯的好感比因执政官之职赢得全国的好感要幸运得多！因为自己留在了流放地而让别人感到他自己才是个流放者，这是怎样的一个人啊？赢得别人，一个甚至连他的亲戚加图都尊崇的人的赞赏该是一个什么样的人〔5〕？布鲁图斯还说盖乌斯·凯撒不肯在米提勒涅停船，因为让一个伟大的人饱受屈辱他实在看不过去。确实，元老院接受了公众将他召回的请求，他们那么急切，那么忧伤，那天他们好像都与布鲁图斯有同感，好像不是为马塞卢斯请愿而是为他们自己，如果他回不来，他们将要去流放。但是在布鲁图斯不忍离去，凯撒不忍看他被流放时候，他收获的要多得多，因为两者都是证明：布鲁图斯因把他留下自己返回而伤心，而凯撒因惭愧而脸红。您怀疑马塞卢斯这样伟大的人物会经常鼓励自己，以平和的心态来忍受流放吗？“没有国家并不会痛苦，通过深入的研究您已经明白了，对于一个聪明的人来说每个地方都是他的国家。另外，那个使你被流放的人不是连续十年也都远离他的祖国吗？当然，他是为了拓展疆土——但他确实离开了自己的国家。看啊，他现在应征去了非洲，那里战事一触即发；去了西班牙，那里正重拾溃败的残部；到了危机四伏的埃及——简而言之，到了整个世界——那里的人虎视眈眈伺机反抗千疮百孔的罗马帝国。他要首先面对什么问题？在什么地方立住脚？他自己的胜利进程使他奔波于世界各地。让列国都尊敬他、仰慕他吧，而你只要有布鲁图斯这样的仰慕者就可以心满意足地生活！”

马塞卢斯那时承受着流放生活，虽然穷困，但是易地而居并未使他的心有所改变。穷困并非罪恶，任何一个人，只要还没到贪婪、奢侈到疯狂的地步，就会认同这一点。贪婪和奢侈会毁掉一切。维持一个人的生活需要多么微不足道的一点点！如果他有什么德行的话谁会差这一点点？就我而言，我知道自己失去的不是财富而是那些分心的事。身体的需要微乎其微，只要不受冻，能吃饱喝足有营养就行。如果再渴望更多的东西就会增加我们的恶癖，而不是我们的所需。我们不需搜遍海洋，或屠宰动物来填充我们的肚腹，或到天涯海角那不知名的海滨捕捉贝类海产。愿神诅咒那些穷奢极欲的人，他们骄奢的触角已超出了帝国的疆界，引发了嫉恨。他们远去斐西斯狩猎以填储自己那自命不凡的厨房，他们不知羞耻地向帕提亚人索要禽类，我们还未遭到这些人的报复。他们从各地搜寻那些刁嘴馋舌的家伙们喜闻乐见的食物。从天涯海角弄来食物，他们那被奢靡的饮食宠溺了的肠胃根本无法接受，吐是为了吃，吃是为了再吐，从世界各地搜刮来的美食大餐他们甚至无法消化。对此鄙夷的人，贫穷会对他有什么不好吗？对渴望这种生活的人来说，贫穷对他更有益：不情愿中他就得到了医治。即便在强迫下他也不吃药，一段时间内他无法得到那些东西，至少看起来也就和他不想要一样了。盖乌斯·凯撒这个人我认为是自然造就的职位最高、人最邪恶的一个典型，他一天要吃掉价值一千万塞斯特斯〔6〕的食物，虽然所有人都费尽心思来帮他，他却仍想不出如何一顿饭耗掉三个行省进贡的钱财的办法。可怜虫，只有昂贵的菜肴才能引起他们的食欲。而之所以昂贵并非由于味道香、口感好，而是由于它们珍稀、得来不易。从另一方面说，如果这些人都改邪归正了，那些伺候肠胃的技艺哪儿还有用武之地呀？哪儿还需要进口贸易，砍伐森林，搜罗海洋呀？大自然已将制作食物的一切准备齐全分布于各地，而人们却视而不见，反而各国搜寻，不惜远渡重洋，本来花一点点钱就可以满足的口腹之欲，他们却不惜重金。我想对他们说：“为什么你们要乘船远航？为什么要武力对付牲畜和人类？为什么总是惊恐万状狼奔豕突？为什么财富堆积如山？你真的需要想想自己的身体才多小。明明只能容纳一点却总是想要多多，这难道不是疯狂或神经严重错乱吗？所以虽然你可以提高收入扩大地产，但是你永远无法扩充身体的容量。虽然你的生意经营不错，打仗也能发横财，虽然你可以狩猎，到处掠取食物，你却没有地方储存这些给养。你为什么想要得到这么多东西？可以肯定，我们的祖先会不高兴，他们的德行至今还支撑着我们的恶习，他们用自己的双手获取食物，他们席地而睡，他们住的地方没有金子闪闪发光，他们的庙宇没有镶嵌宝石——所以那时候他们在粘土做的神像前庄严发誓，祈求它们，宁可回到敌阵去死也不会违背誓言〔7〕。可以肯定，我们的独裁者〔8〕在接见萨姆奈特使节时，还亲手做着最简单的饭（这手曾多次摧毁敌人，将月桂花环〔9〕放在卡彼托奈山丘的朱庇特膝上）——他不如我们时代的阿皮休斯〔10〕幸福，阿皮休斯所在的那个城市，哲学家曾被说成是腐蚀青年的人而被驱除，他作为烹调技师用他的教导亵渎了这个时代。”关于他的故事值得一听。当他在厨房花光了一亿塞斯特斯，当他在狂喝豪饮中耗尽了所有帝国的馈赠与巨额国家税收时，迫于债务的重压，他第一次查看了自己的账务，算计出账上只剩一千万塞斯特斯，而靠一千万塞斯特斯生活无异于要过食不果腹的日子，所以他服毒自尽了。有一千万塞斯特斯还认为是贫穷，多么奢侈！你又怎么会认为重要的是钱财的数量而不是心态呢？有人因为有一千万塞斯特斯而心生畏惧，别人求之不得的，他却躲之不及服毒而死。不过真的，对于一个心态反常的人来说，最后的豪饮乃最为风光之时，此时，他不仅是在享受，而且还在炫耀他那盛大的宴会，展示他的恶习，引起人们关注他那粗俗的表演，唆诱青年人效仿他（那些人即便没有坏人做榜样也会自然而然受到影响）——再后来，就是他真的服食毒药。这就是这种人的命运，他们衡量财富不是用界限固定的理性标准，而是以放荡不羁、为所欲为、反复无常的有害的生活方式。任何东西都无法满足贪心欲壑，但是区区少量就可以让自然的天性知足。所以流放的贫困生活并非苦难，再贫困的流放地让一个人丰衣足食总还可以。

“但是，”有人说，“流放地会让人怀念自己的服装和房子。”这些也只有在他需要时才会想念——而他既不缺房子又不缺衣服，因为身体对于遮蔽之物的需求和对食物的需求一样是很少的。而且自然也并未让人类生存的必需品难以获取。但是他非要将布料染上浓浓的紫色，用金线编织，并饰以五颜六色的图案。如果他感到穷困，那是他自己的问题。即便将所有他失掉的东西还给他，你也是枉费心机，因为一旦流放回来，他会感到更加失落，因为他想得而得不到的东西远远多于他流放时失去的财富。但是他必须有家具，这些家具光彩照人，因为上面摆放着知名艺术家制作的金容器、古代的银盘、因只有几个疯子想有而显得很值钱的铜器，挤满整个房子的奴隶，无论房子有多大，还有那些因拼命喂食而身体肥硕的驮畜，以及从各地采运来的大理石。虽然这些东西堆积成山，仍不能满足他那贪婪的灵魂：正如某人并非由于缺水而是由于极度内热对水产生渴求，喝多少水都无济于事，因为那不是渴，而是一种病。不仅仅钱和食物是这样的，所有不是因为缺乏、而是因为贪婪这种恶癖而产生的欲望都具有同样的性质。无论堆积多少，都不能表示贪欲结束，而只不过是它的一个阶段。所以将自己限制在自然设定的范围内的人，不会自觉贫困，而那些越过限制的人无论多么富有却永远为贫穷所困扰。即便在流放地也能找到生活的必需品，相反即使身在王国中，也感受不到富足。是思想创造了财富，这样的财富与我们同往流放地，在荒无人烟的艰苦地方，它可以找到充足的食物来滋养我们的身体，尽享其物产。钱与神灵无关，同样也与心智无关。所有那些未受教化且受制于身体的心灵所崇拜的东西——大理石、金子、银子、光洁的大圆桌——都是世俗的负担，一个纯洁、深谙其本质的灵魂不会喜欢它们，因为它轻浮且没有障碍，一旦从体内释放，便一定会飞扬直上。同时，由于不受四肢及裹挟我们的重负的阻碍，它能以带有翅膀的快速飞翔的思想纵览神异之物。灵魂是自由的，类似于神的，与整个宇宙及所有的时间平等，它永远不会被流放，它的思想环绕整个天宇，行走于过去和未来的所有时间。这不幸的身体，灵魂的桎梏与囚牢，被抛来抛去，惩治、掠夺、疾病肆虐其上。然而，灵魂本身是圣洁、永恒的，不受暴力攻击的。

如果您认为我仅仅是用哲学家的说教轻描淡写地讲述穷困的历练，把穷困说成除非本人认为是个负担，否则没人能感觉到的，那么首先想想：到目前为止大多数人都是穷困的，而您却看不到他们比富人更阴郁和焦虑。其实，我倒觉得他们更幸福，因为他们的心灵较少受到困扰。咱们接下来再谈富人：他们多么经常地就像穷人一样地生活！他们出国时行李要受限制，每当要加快行程时，就得解散大批的随从。在军队服役时，由于军营纪律禁止奢侈，他们才能带多么少的行李！并非只有在特殊时间和场合他们才在需求方面被置于与穷人同等的水平：当他们一旦厌倦了富人的生活，他们会找出几天坐在地上吃饭，把那些金银容器搁置一旁，使用起陶制的器皿。真是疯了，有时竟然向往自己总是惧怕的那种生活状况。多阴暗的心理！多么无知盲目，他们畏惧贫困，却又以模仿贫困为乐！从我自己来说，每当我回顾往古那些范例，我都会为贫穷寻找慰藉而感到惭愧，因为奢侈竟已到了如此地步：一个流放者的津贴竟然比过去重要人物的遗产还多。众所周知，荷马有一个奴隶，柏拉图有三个，而芝诺，严格而富有生气的斯多葛哲学的创始人，却没有奴隶。如果不是本人自己亲口说出自己非常可怜的境遇，谁会从这些方面说他们很不幸呢？门尼涅斯·阿格里帕以调解贵族与平民之间的矛盾来维护社会的和平安宁，他死后是公众捐款埋葬的。当阿提利乌斯·雷古勒斯在非洲追击迦太基人的时候，他给元老院写信说，他家的雇工走了，家里的田地无人照看了，元老院投票决定在雷古勒斯不在家的时候，他家的田地由国家照管。自家无奴隶而让罗马人民成了他家的佃户，这难道不值得吗？西庇奥女儿们的嫁妆来自国库，因为她们的老爸没给她们留下任何东西：无疑罗马人民为西庇奥捐赠一次也是对的，因为他不断强迫迦太基人进贡。女儿们的丈夫，有了罗马人民做他们的岳父是多么幸福！你认为那些把当伶人的女儿以一百万塞斯特斯的嫁妆出聘的人会比自己孩子由元老院监护、收到的嫁妆是可靠铜币的西庇奥还快乐吗？有谁会蔑视家世如此显赫的贫穷？西庇奥置办不起女儿们的嫁妆，雷古勒斯缺少干活的人手，门尼涅斯无钱办葬礼时，知道这些，流放者还会怨恨缺这少那吗？难道这些人要什么有什么，会更让我们尊敬？有这些人为贫穷辩护，贫穷不仅不是罪恶，反倒成了荣誉。

有人可能会回答，“有些事情单独发生尚可忍受，同时发生则难忍受，你为什么非要分开来谈呢？易地而居如果仅是地点的改变，是可以忍受的。贫穷若不失体面也可忍爱——丢掉体面这一件事就足以令人崩溃。”在回答这个想用一大堆不幸来吓唬我的人时，应该这样说：“如果你有力量对付某一方面的不幸，你就能对付所有方面的。一旦道德能使思想变得坚韧，它就会使各方面都变得刀枪不入。如果贪欲这一人类最难遏制的毛病不再能控制你，野心就不会挡道。如果你把自己的末日不看做惩罚而视为自然规律，把对死亡的恐惧从胸中驱逐就不会再有恐惧胆敢进入。如果你认为性欲之于男人不是愉悦而是为了繁殖后代，一旦你能摆脱这种植根于身体命脉的强烈而有破坏作用的激情，那么其他的欲望就会悄悄离你而去。理智击溃恶习不是各个击破，而是一举全面击溃：胜利是最终的、全面的。”你认为耻辱可以影响哪个完全依靠自己、超然于大众信念的智者吗？可耻地死去比耻辱更糟糕：而苏格拉底走进监狱时的表情同他过去蔑视三十僭主时〔11〕一样——他的到来甚至使监狱一扫耻辱，因为只要苏格拉底在，那里就不算监狱。谁能无视这样的事实竟然认为马库斯·加图两次竞争地方长官和执政官的职位失败是耻辱？耻辱属于地方长官和执政官的职务，而这两个职务因加图而光荣。没有人会被他人蔑视，除非他自己先就蔑视自己。卑贱低下的心理对于这类的侮辱是非常敏感的；而如果一个人能使自己面对最痛苦的灾难，并且能击败曾压倒别人的邪恶，他面对的那些苦难就像是佩戴了一枚神圣的勋章。我们一般倾向于赞赏那些在逆境中表现刚毅的人，所以当阿里斯德岱斯〔12〕被带到雅典的法场，所有见到他的人都垂目低吟，好像受到惩罚的不仅是一名正义之士，而且是正义本身。然而一个家伙真的朝他的脸上吐唾沫。他本可以对此感到憎恶，因为他知道只有嘴巴肮脏的人才敢这样做。但是他没有，而是擦了擦脸，笑着对护送的地方官说：“警告那个家伙下次不要再这么粗鲁地打哈欠了。”这就是用侮辱来回报侮辱。我知道有人会说，没有比鄙视更令人难以接受了，连死亡都似乎比它舒服。对这些人的话，我的答复是，流放往往还能使人免遭任何鄙视。如果一个伟人倒下了仍能保持伟大，人们不会鄙视他，就像他们踏在倒塌的寺庙上，虔诚的人们照样对它顶礼膜拜，就像它耸立时候一样。

最亲爱的妈妈，既然您没有理由因为我而没完没了地流泪，那么应该是因为您自己的原因而伤心落泪了。这其中原因有二：您是因为自己似乎失去了某些保护而烦恼，或者因为一想到我不在您身边就感到无法忍受。

这第一点，我只少说几句，我知道您心中对亲人的爱只是为他们着想。让那些母亲想想吧，她们因为身为女人缺少权势就剥削孩子的权势；由于自己没有职务，只能通过儿子来寻求权力，不仅花光了儿子的遗产，而且还企图从儿子那里获得遗产，她们假别人以口实让自己的儿子疲于应对。而您为儿子们的所得感到高兴却几乎没有利用过它们；您的慷慨是无限的，却限制我们过分慷慨；当您父亲还健在的时候，您却给有钱的儿子们送礼物。您管理我们遗产的认真程度就像管理自己的，小心谨慎的程度就像管理别人的。您谨慎地利用我们的影响，就好像那是别人的；在我们履行职务期间，您除了高兴和付出从没有掺和。您的爱从没有考虑个人利益。因而，既然您的儿子被从您身边带走，您也不会觉得缺少了那些东西，因为当儿子是安全和健康时，您从未觉得那些与您有关。

我必须完全从那个真正能使一位母亲感到悲哀的角度来安慰您。您说，“那么我被剥夺了拥抱我最亲爱的儿子的权利，我再也不能感受见到他或和他聊天的快乐了。那个一出现就能抚平我的愁眉的人在哪儿？那个我可以倾诉悲哀的人在哪儿？我们那从未厌倦的聊天哪儿去了？我曾以超出女人的热心，超出母亲的亲近与他分享的研究哪里去了？我们的会面到哪儿去了？那个一见到自己妈妈就总是像个孩子似的不停的欢笑哪儿去了？”除了这些您还提到了我们愉快地聚会和社交的具体的地点，以及能够使我们想起最近一起生活的情形，这些必然都是最敏感的促使您心情极其痛苦的缘由。命运甚至阴谋策划了这一对您的残酷打击，在我被贬黜的前两天，您才离开，心情平静，没有理由对这样的灾难担心、惧怕。如果我们以前就相隔遥远，如果多年不在您身边能使您对这一打击有所准备就好了。直到返回罗马，您都没有享受到儿子在跟前的快乐，却对他不在感到很不习惯了。如果您很早就离开，您就会更勇敢地面对这一缺憾，因为我们之间的距离可以淡化彼此的思念。如果您没有离开，至少还可以享受多看儿子两天的最后的快乐。现在的情况是，残酷的命运作出如此安排，使您没能看到我的倒运，又无法习惯我的不在。但是情况越是不利，您越要鼓起更大的勇气，更勇猛地战斗，像对付一个您了解并经常能打败的敌人。您的血现在不是从未受伤害的身体里淌出，您正是被击打在旧的伤疤上。

您不能因为自己是女人就原谅自己，女人们实际上有极度悲哀的权利，但不是无休止地悲哀。鉴于此，我们的前辈允许寡妇服丧十个月的时间，为的是采取折中的办法以公开的法令来限制女人们无法抑制的悲痛。他们不是禁止悲哀，只是限制。因为痛失亲人而无休止地悲哀使自己饱受折磨是愚蠢的自我放任，而没有任何表示又是不人性的无情无义。在爱与理智之间最好的折中办法就是既要思念又要克制这种情感。您不会对那种一旦悲痛至死方休的妇人表示尊重吧——您知道有些人儿子死了就穿上丧服，从此不再脱下。您的一生从开始就比她们坚强，因而希望您会更坚强：一个没有任何女性弱点的女人，不应把自己是女人当作借口。当今时代最不能饶恕的罪恶就是淫荡，在这一点上根本不能把您和大多数妇女一起来考量。宝石和珍珠对您都毫无影响，耀眼的财富在您眼里从不是赋予人类的最大的恩惠。在严格的、旧式的家庭中生长的您从未误入歧途去模仿那些即使对良家妇女也是很危险的坏女人。您从未因为自己生儿育女而感到羞惭，似乎年长育子就会被嘲弄；您也没有像其他女人那样总试图以美貌示人，而掩饰自己怀有身孕，似乎那是什么丢人的负担；您也从未以堕胎来摧毁生育的希望；您也没有用颜料和化妆品来惯纵您的容貌；您从来不喜欢那种穿着如同没穿的服装；人们从您身上看到的是无以伦比的服饰，岁月无痕的花容月貌，无上荣光的品德——谦逊。所以您不能以妇女的名义来证明自己有理由悲伤，您已经以自己的美德与那个群体划清界限：您应该像拒绝一切女性恶习一样拒绝眼泪。甚至连女人们也不会允许您在伤痛中一蹶不振，她们会让您迅速度过必要的悲哀，然后在安抚后重新振作起来，您会乐意记住那些勇气过人不逊须眉的女士们。命运让科妮莉亚〔13〕的十二个孩子就剩下两个。如果您要计算她丧失的孩子，她丧失了十个；如果您想评价这些孩子，她失去了格拉古兄弟。但是当她周围的人痛哭着诅咒她的命运时，她不准他们诅咒命运之神，因为命运将格拉古兄弟赐予她，让他们成了她的儿子。这是无愧于这位母亲的儿子，他在群众大会上说：“你们想侮辱这位给了我生命的母亲吗？”而母亲的话听起来更是掷地有声。儿子因出生于格拉古家而自豪，母亲因儿子的献身也感自豪。茹提莉亚跟随儿子考塔一起流放，她对儿子的爱如此真诚，宁可随儿子流放，也不愿意独自长相思，直到儿子回来时她才一同返回。可是当儿子官复原职重新得到重用，又成为了一位杰出的公众人物时，他却死了。她以当初和他一起流放的勇气承受他的离世，在他的葬礼之后人们再没有看见她哭过。当他被流放，她显示了勇敢；当他死去，她显示了智慧。什么都不能阻止她表示自己的爱，什么都不能使她无休止地沉溺于无用、无益的悲哀。我希望您能与这样的女士为伍。您总在效仿她们的生活方式，也一定能以她们为榜样控制、克服哀痛。

我知道这不是我们的力量所能掌控的，任何强烈的感情都不是我们能够控制的，尤其是悲哀之情更是无法抑制，因为这种感情是非常强烈的，而且对任何治愈措施都会强烈抵触。有时我们想要击垮它，强咽下痛苦的呻吟，表面上强装镇静，却止不住泪水滂沱。有时我们想去看看演出或角斗以分散注意力，但是就在这些娱乐活动的场景中，一点儿小小的事由就会使我们触景生情，使所有努力归于失败。因此最好是战胜悲痛，而不是自欺欺人。因为如果仅仅用娱乐和分散精力的方式来蒙骗，它会撤离，然后又会再次开始，用暂停期间积蓄起的力量，向我们猛烈进攻。而以理智战胜的悲哀却是会永远地平息。因此我不打算给您开出就我所知别人用过的处方，让您分散精力，高兴起来，比如到国外长时间旅游，或用很多时间清理账目，管理财产，或经常参加一种新的活动。这些都短时间有效，它们不能治愈，只是干扰了伤痛。而我不是要转移它，而是要彻底结果它。所以我要引领您寻求那种慰藉，这是所有那些超越命运掌控的人们的避难所：人文学科的研究。这些学习将为您疗伤，它们将驱除您所有的的哀思，即便您从未通晓它们，现在也需要学习它们。就我父亲那种严格的旧式家教所能允许的，您对人文学科即使还没有通晓，也是比较熟悉的了。要是我父亲——他是最好的男人——不那么忠实于祖辈的传统，能让您专心于哲学教学，而不是只对它一知半解就好了——您现在就不需要通过学习获得抵御厄运的知识了，而只要拿来运用就行了。他之所以不太愿意让您从事研究，是因为那些女人不是用书上的知识来获得智慧，而只是当成奢侈的摆设。不过，好在您有一种积极求索的心态，能够在有限的时间内学到很多知识，正规研究的基础已经打好了，现在再去继续学习吧，那会使您有安全感。它们会安慰您，让您高兴，如果它们真的能沁入您的心里，悲痛，以及那些毫无意义的不值一提的苦难引发的焦虑和苦恼，就再也休想扰乱您心，您的心里再也容不下这些，它早已将其他的不快拒之门外。学习是您最可靠的庇护，只有它们可以使您摆脱厄运的紧箍。

不过，在您到达哲学为您提供的庇护所之前，您还必须有一些支持的力量可以依靠：所以我同时还想向您指出您本身就有的慰藉。想想我的兄弟们。只要他们活着，您就没有理由抱怨自己的命运。从他们身上您会很高兴地发现反差很大的优点：一个以自己的能力获得官职，另一个以其智慧对官场不屑一顾。为一个的优秀，另一个的退隐，为二人的挚爱而感到慰藉吧。我很了解我兄弟们内心深处的感情，一个建功立业是为了让您感到光荣，另一个退隐于平静安宁是为了让您能享有闲适。命运为您作出了安排，让您的孩子既能对您有所帮助又能给您带来快乐。这个的显赫地位可以为您提供保护，那个的悠闲生活助您颐养天年。他们竞相侍奉您老人家，两个儿子的挚爱真情会填补一个儿子留下的空缺。我可以十分有把握的预先告诉您，除了儿子的数量，您不会失去任何东西。

这之后，再来想想您的孙子们吧：马尔库斯，这个最可爱的孩子——看到他您就不会再悲伤了，他的拥抱让再大的再近的苦痛都会释然。有他的欢乐什么样的泪水不会止住？听到他快活地喋喋不休谁那被焦虑压抑的心情能不轻松起来？看到他嬉笑打趣的样子谁能不绽放出笑容？无论原先怎么专注于自己的心思，听着那些永远不会令人厌烦的稚嫩童音，谁的注意力能不被吸引、感染？我祈求神保佑他在我们都离去后活得更好！让命运的残酷行径自动消亡、止于我身。让我来代您承受作为母亲和祖母所要遭受的一切苦难吧。让其余的家人都免受侵扰生活幸福吧。如果我能替全家遭罪而使家人免受一切痛苦，我决不会因为没有孩子或被流放而抱怨。拥抱诺瓦提拉吧，她很快就会给您生一个重外孙。我那么爱她，并收养了她，所以失去我，她就像个孤儿，尽管她的亲生父亲还活着。也替我好好爱护她吧。厄运最近夺走了她的母亲，但您的爱会让她仅仅因为母亲的去世而悲哀，而不会因为母亲的不在而遭罪。现在您得塑造和调理她的性格，在易受影响的年纪，教育会留下更深的印记。让她慢慢习惯您的谈话，按您认为正确的模式成长，即便您只是给她做做榜样，也会让她受益良多。如此神圣的责任对于您来说也是一种疗法，因为只有哲学或有意义的事情才能将痛苦从因爱而悲伤的心中转移。

如果您的父亲还在，我也会将他算作能给您带来莫大安慰的人。正如现在这样，您必须用您对他的爱来判断他对您的爱，这样您就会明白您多么应该为了他而更多地保护自己而不是为了我而牺牲您自己。当过度的悲哀袭击您，逼您屈服时，想一想您的父亲。当然，给了他那么多子孙后代，您不再是他唯一的后代了，但是对于他来说幸福生活的完美全靠您。当他还健在时您抱怨自己活够了就不对了。

到现在为止我还没有谈到最能给您带来安慰的人，您的姐姐，她是最忠实于您的人，也是您可以毫无保留倾诉忧愁的人，还是我们所有孩子视为妈妈的人。您和她泪水交融，在她的怀抱中您才恢复了平静。确实，一直以来她都分享您的情感，但是这次在我的这件事上，她的悲哀却不全是为您。她把我抱在怀里来到罗马，在我长期生病的时候，是她的爱和母亲般的呵护才使我恢复知觉。在我竞选检察官的时候，她支持我，虽然她平日连谈话和大声打招呼都不够自信，但对我的爱使她战胜了羞怯。她的隐居生活，她的谦逊（与现在很多妇女的厚颜相比显得有些保守），她的心平气和，还有她渴望平和安静的保守天性——所有这些都没有阻止她为了我而真正变得雄心勃勃。最亲爱的妈妈啊，她是您恢复精神获得慰藉的源泉。尽您所能紧紧拥抱她吧。悲伤的人总是想回避他们最爱的人，想找个排解忧伤的地方，但是您一定要把您的想法告诉她。无论您是想保留这种情绪，还是想把它置于一旁，她都会使您不再难过，或者与您分担痛苦。但是，就我对这位优秀女性的智慧的了解，她一定不会让您在这种无益的困苦中消耗精力，她会给您讲述她生活中的一段颇有教育意义的插曲，那件事我也曾亲眼目睹。

在一次出海旅行途中，她失去了自己深爱的丈夫——我的姨夫，她还是个少女时就嫁给了他；她同时承受着悲哀和恐惧的巨大压力，虽然船失事了，她冒着风暴航行，最终安全地把丈夫的尸体运到岸上。啊，有多少妇女行为高尚却默默无闻被人们忘记！如果她有幸生活在过去，那时人们对英雄的行为都大加赞赏，那些才华横溢的人会怎样竞相赞美这样的女士，她不顾自己虚弱的身体，无视连最勇敢的人都会心生畏惧的大海，冒着生命危险以使丈夫能够入土为安，当她一心想的是丈夫的葬礼时，她对自己的处境是无所畏惧的。所有的诗人都盛赞要替丈夫献身的女人，但是冒着生命危险送丈夫的尸体去墓地的行为更高尚。经历同样的危险却鲜有人称赞，那是一种更伟大的爱。

这件事之后，人们对很多事情就不会感到惊奇了：在她丈夫担任埃及总督的16年中，人们从未见她在公共场合露面，她从不在家里接待本地人，从未请求丈夫为她做什么，也从未允许别人求她办什么事。结果是，在一个盛行闲言碎语，对执政者竭尽讥讽辱骂的行省，连小心翼翼唯恐犯错误的人都难逃绯闻诟病，而她却被当成完美非凡的典范，让那些传播闲话的人三缄其口（这是很难做到的，因为这里连一些很不着边的闲话都会流传甚广），而直到如今，人们还在希望能再看到一个和她品行一样的人，虽然根本不可能。在一个省份生活16年能够得到认可是很了不起的，在那里不为人们所注意更是了不起。我回顾这些事情不是为了说她品德多么高尚（讲述得这么概括，对她的美德是不公平的），而是让您了解一个高尚女性，她没有被那些必然与权势相伴而来又因而为人们所诅咒的野心与贪婪所征服，她面对海难在一只破船上无所畏惧地与死去的丈夫在一起，没有企图自己逃生，而一心想把丈夫带回家安葬。您必须也鼓起这样的勇气，驱除心中的悲伤，坚强起来，使人们看到您没有因为有这些孩子而后悔。

然而，无论您怎么做，都会经常不可避免地想到我，任何其他的孩子都不会这样经常地让您想念，并不是您不爱他们，而是因为越是疼痛的地方，人们自然会更多地要去触摸。所以您必须想到我现在是幸福而快乐的，就像生活在非常舒适的环境中。说环境舒适是因为现在我心无旁骛，可以自由地做自己想做的事情，眼下正饶有兴趣地做一些一般性的研究，我的心正急切地想探索事物的真相以思考其自身的本质和宇宙的本质。首先想要了解的是陆地及其位置，然后是周边海洋的本质及潮落和海流。接下来还要研究天与地之间那广袤无垠的空间——这离我们最近的空间因着雷鸣电闪、阵风、降雨、降雪、降冰雹而喧嚣。最终，我的心会从较低的地区倏忽而过，冲向凌云顶，一览神奇壮美的景色，意识到自己的永生不朽，它将继续向所有年代延伸，饱览那些已经存在和将要存在的一切。

注释

〔1〕　塞内加于公元41年被克劳狄皇帝判处死刑，后改判流放科西嘉岛，直到公元49年才被召回。这封信是塞内加到流放地不久写给母亲赫尔维亚的，试图安慰母亲不要为他悲伤。

〔2〕　相传罗慕路斯是母狼哺育的两个男婴之一，罗马城的奠基者和第一个皇帝。

〔3〕　马可斯·布鲁图斯（前85年－前42年）是晚期罗马共和国的一名元老院议员，他组织并参与了对凯撒的谋杀。

〔4〕　马塞卢斯曾于公元前51年任执政官，他是凯撒的死敌。

〔5〕　布鲁图斯和加图是亲戚，很受加图的尊崇。

〔6〕　古罗马的货币。

〔7〕　指的是古罗马的将军雷古勒斯。他在公元前255年被迦太基人俘获，按传统，应被囚禁于迦太基，除非按“凭誓获释”的规定，作为和谈的代表他才可以回罗马。据说，雷古勒斯回到罗马后力劝元老院拒绝迦太基人的提议，而后遵守自己的誓言又回到迦太基受死。

〔8〕　指马尼乌斯·克里乌斯，他因打败萨姆奈特人、萨宾人和皮洛士人而出名。

〔9〕　这是胜利者的特权。

〔10〕　阿皮休斯是一个声名狼藉的美食家。

〔11〕　公元前404年，斯巴达人打败雅典人，结束了长达27年的伯罗奔尼撒战争。这时曾是苏格拉底学生的克里底亚和查米迪斯成立了三十僭主集团。豪权政治代替了民主，这个集团在执政的8个月中就处死了1500人。8个月后，三十僭主集团垮台，民主制度恢复，克里底亚和查米迪斯被处死，苏格拉底也因此受到牵连，也被处以死刑。

〔12〕　阿里斯德岱斯是雅典稳重派领袖，以廉洁无私著称。

〔13〕　格拉古兄弟的母亲。格拉古兄弟的父亲老提比略·格拉古曾出任前177年和前163年的罗马执政官。母亲科妮莉亚·阿菲莉加娜来自显赫的西庇阿家族。她的父亲就是大名鼎鼎的阿非利加征服者。据说科妮莉亚·阿菲莉加娜曾拒绝了埃及法老托勒密的求婚，悉心教子并聘请了有名的希腊学者来做家庭教师，使兄弟两人受到了良好的教育。

论心灵之安宁

塞雷努斯〔1〕：塞内加，当我审视自己的时候，我的一些不端行为便清晰地浮出表面，使我可以用手触摸；有些藏于较深之处，有些并不总在那里，只是不时往返。我想说，这最后一种是最麻烦的：它们就像潜伏的敌人，一旦时机允许就对你突然袭击，让你既不能像战争年代时刻戒备，也不能像和平年代处之泰然。然而，我大多数时间所处的状态（我为什么不能像对一位医生一样向你承认真相呢？）是我并没有真正摆脱那些自己既怕又恨的恶行，虽然，从另一方面讲，并没有被它们所约束：这倒让我的状态并不太糟，但却极其易怒并且动辄就想与人辩论——我既没生病但也不健康。你没必要说所有的美德开始时都是很脆弱的，随着时间的推移才变得坚实有力。我还知道那些竭力想获得好感的人，如，爬上高职位，获得辩才方面的声誉，以及其他需要被人认可的东西，都需要时间来日趋成熟——那些真正有力量的，和那些为了名声涂脂抹粉将自己掩饰的，两者都需要等待数年，直到时间的流逝能逐渐产生它们的色彩。但是我唯恐那种会使事情变得很牢固的习惯会将这种毛病更深地植根于我身——长期的交往会使人既对美好的也对丑恶的东西产生嗜好。

心理脆弱的本质是在两种选择之间摇摆，没有明显地倾向于对或错。我不能一次就把这一切表示清楚，不如一点一点地讲。我要把发生在我身上的事情告诉你，你就能给我的病症起个名字了。我得承认，我是极爱节俭的。我不喜欢把长椅装饰得那么华丽，也不喜欢把衣服从衣柜里取出，或用重物压上千百遍让它那么光彩耀人，我喜欢家常的、便宜的，收藏和穿上后不必小心翼翼的。我喜欢的饭菜不需要准备，也不需要在家奴的守护下用餐，不用提前几天就预定，也不用好多人伺候着，而是即时买，简单做，不需要跑远路也不需要花高价，而是到处都有的，钱包和身体都能负担得起的，不是怎么吃进又怎么吐出来的。我要的佣人就是普普通通，没什么技能，家养的奴隶就行；我的银器呢，就用乡村老爸用的那种厚重的就行，不需要任何印章；我的桌子不需要有色彩斑斓俗不可耐的标记，也不需因多次辗转于时尚名人之手而为全城所熟知，只要立着能用就行，不要让客人因高兴而分散目光，也不要引起他们的嫉妒。当我立下这些标准，我还是感到自己的心被某个培训佣人的学校的华丽装饰搞得眩惑了，那些奴隶的服装上饰以金品、比要去参加游行还打扮精致，还有一整队光鲜耀人的随从；我被一座房子搞得眩惑了，在那里面你甚至可以在宝石上行走，财富撒在各个角落，房顶闪闪发光，所有的平民百姓都毕恭毕敬地侍候在家庭遗产的废墟上。还需要我提起那清澈见底、水绕着就餐客人流淌的水池，以及那与周围环境相映成辉的宴席吗？长时间节俭惯了，我发现豪华奢靡的壮观场面将我包围，在我周围轰响。我的视觉有些游移，因为我发现用心去面对它，比用眼睛更容易。而这之后我回来，感到不是更糟了而是更悲哀了。行走于我的那些微不足道的财产中，我的头不再抬得那么高，一种隐秘而痛苦的疑惑折磨着我：这样的生活高尚吗？这些都没有改变我，但是却让我感到震撼。

我决定遵循我的老师的教导投身于国家大事，担任一些公职——当然不是为了那身紫袍和执法官的袍子，而是为了能更好地帮助我的朋友和亲戚，帮助所有的同胞，进而帮助全人类。我满腔热忱地追随芝诺、克里安提斯、克律西波斯，顺便说一下，他们都没有摄职从政，但是都劝导别人那样做。不过当什么东西对我那已不习惯折腾的心发起进攻时，当什么事情发生在我身上时，无论是琐屑小事（每个人生都会经历的）还是难以对付的事，或当一些无关紧要的事要耗费很多精力时，我就会悠闲地躲避，就像疲惫的一群动物，匆匆赶回家。我决定将自己的生活限制在自己的围墙之内，我会说：“给我造成损失却不想给予适当回报的人别想从我这儿夺走我一天的时间。让我的心安分守己，滋养自我，心无旁骛——决不仰人鼻息；让它珍惜宁静，远离公私关注。”然而，每当我看到令人心悦诚服的报道并为杰出的典范所激励，我又渴望站出来，为这个人说话，向那个人提供帮助，即便不能成功，也是助人的一种尝试，或去抑制某人因成功而恃才傲物的骄气。

我认为在自己的研究中，这样肯定比较好：专注于自己的课题，演讲时也以此为主题，同时以主题来决定用词，确立一种不矫揉造作的讲演风格。我问：“写出传世之作有必要吗？为什么不停止让后代对你歌功颂德的努力？人生来就会死的，无言的葬礼能省却很多麻烦。所以如果你想把时间利用起来，就写一些文风简朴的作品留给自己看，而不是为发表——只为眼下学习就会省力多了。”再者，当我的心气被伟大的思想提高了，它在用词方面就会很有魄力，总是渴望用合适的语言来表达更高的灵感，这样就会产生一种给人很深印象的与主题相配的文风，那样我就忘了自己一贯的自我克制的规定和原则，而被一种已不属于自己的声音带到更高的高度。

咱们长话短说吧，我的善意中存在的这一弱点，还表现在各个方面，我觉得自己正在变坏，或者（这是更令人担忧的）我就像被悬吊在边缘总是命悬一线随时可能要掉下去，而且可能还有更错的地方我自己看不见——我们对自己的性格总是投以太亲密的目光，而偏袒总会影响我们的判断力。我想很多人要是没有想象自己已经很有智慧了，如果他们没有掩饰自己的某些性格，而无视别人的某些性格，那么他们可能就已经获得了智慧。因为你没有理由设想我们的悲哀更多地是由于别人巴结我们，而不是我们巴结自己。谁敢跟自己说出真相？在成群的马屁精的包围中最大的拍马屁者不是自己吗？所以我恳求你，如果你有治疗这种思想游移症的方法，看在我还是值得你施舍的人，给我心灵一个安宁吧，我感到我的这些心理上的不平静不会有什么危险，不会导致狂风暴雨。用一个真实的比喻向你诉说：我不是由于暴风雨而是由于晕船而苦恼。无论是什么病吧，根除掉，来帮帮一个已看到了陆地但仍在挣扎的人吧。

塞内加：确实，塞雷努斯，我一直在悄悄问自己应该把这种心理状态比作什么，我找不到比这些人的状况更相似的了：他们曾长期生病，刚刚大病初愈，但仍常常会感到有点儿发烧或疼痛，而且最近的症状没了却仍会心烦意乱；虽然好多了，有一点发热就把手伸给大夫毫无必要的抱怨。塞雷努斯啊，这些人不是身体没有彻底治愈，而是他们还没有习惯于健康的状态，就好像即便在平静的海面上仍会有层层涟漪，尤其是暴风雨过后刚刚平静下来时。所以你不需要提供什么很彻底的治疗，因为刚刚进行过这样的治疗了——在这儿堵截自己，在那儿跟自己生气，在某个其他地方严正地恐吓自己——而最后阶段的治疗是，树立自信，相信自己的路是对的，不要误入那些纵横交叉于自己路上的歧途，它们让很多人无可挽回地迷失方向，尽管有人离正确的道路还不远。但是你所期望的是伟大，至高无上，近于神圣的东西——决不动摇。希腊人把这种思想的恒稳坚定称为euthymia（情感正常），德谟克利特曾就此有过精辟的论述，而我却想称其为tranquillity（平静），因为没有必要模仿或复制希腊文字的形式——关键是要找到一个术语，它能表达意思，而不是希腊词语的形式。因而，我们探索心灵如何能够保持平稳，恰当地面对自己，乐观地关注自己的处境，不会中断这种快乐，保持平和的状态，没有起伏忐忑：这就是宁静。让我们想想在一般情况下如何做到这些，然后你可以从通用的疗法中选出你喜欢的方法。在此期间，所有的过失必须放到光天化日之下，让每个人都从中看到自己也犯有的错误。同时你会感到自我反感带给你的烦恼远比那些人要少得多，那些人被某些华而不实的宣言束缚，在显赫的头衔下操劳，他们一直虚伪地过日子并非因为自己有此愿望，而是因为自惭形秽。

那些被变化无常、百无聊赖、朝三暮四所折磨的人，与那些怀念过去了的日子，因兴味索然而哈欠连天的人都是同一类人。还有一些人他们像是患了失眠症，四处乱窜，朝秦暮楚，不到精疲力竭不会停歇。他们逐物心移，不断变换生活状况，最终定格下来也并非因为对继续变化的厌倦，而是年事太高对新奇事物已迟钝麻木。还有一些人并非由于心理因素稳定，而是因为惰性十足，缺乏按自己的意愿来改变生活的动力，他们的日子还停留在最初的老样子。其实这种病有无数种特征，但是只有一个结果——对自己不满意。这产生于精神上的不稳定，产生于可怕的、未满足的欲望。当人们不敢或没能得到他们渴望的东西时，他们能抓住的就是渴望。他们总是不平衡，总是躁动不安，结果就不可避免地总是生活在悬而未决的状态之中。他们不择手段拼命想得到自己渴望的东西，他们说服自己、强迫自己去做不体面的事、难以成功的事，而当一切劳而无功的时候，那种徒劳无益的耻辱又让他们备受折磨，不是为自己的不端行为而是为愿望受挫而懊悔。然后他们不断为已做的尝试悔恨，为再一次尝试而恐惧，心情躁动不安却又苦于无法排解，因为他们既不能控制又无法顺从自己的欲望，生活的不确定性让他们感到前途无望。精神的麻木不仁又让他们在无约束的希望面前止步不前。对劳而无功的憎恶使人们转而变得无所事事，或开始独自研究，而这是向往公共事业、热衷于社会活动、因缺少精神寄托而天性注定不安分的人所无法忍受的，这些使所有的苦恼火上加油。结果，当那些忙碌的人从实际活动中所获得的乐趣消失不见的时候，他们无法忍受待在家里、四面围墙中的孤独寂寥，开始厌恶这种与世隔绝的孤寂。这样又会产生厌世和对自己的不满情绪，产生心绪不宁、郁郁寡欢、难耐闲适而导致的躁动，尤其是当我们羞于承认造成这种状况的原因，这种羞耻感又让痛苦深埋心中，我们的欲望陷于狭窄的制约中，无法逃逸，又无法呼吸，由此又会引发愁思与悲哀以及不安分心灵无尽的踌躇。希望产生时振奋激动，希望破灭时萎靡不振，由此又引发了一些人对自己闲适的憎恶和对无所事事的抱怨以及对别人升迁的极端嫉妒。游手好闲的安逸会衍生怨恨嫉妒，因为他们自己不能发迹就想让别人都遭殃。接下来，这种对别人成功的嫉恨和对自己的失望又使他们迁怒于命运，抱怨生不逢时命途多舛，进而退隐到阴暗角落思忖自己的遭遇，直到对自己产生腻烦和厌倦。由于人的心灵天生就是好动、喜欢搞些活动的，所以它对每个刺激和娱乐都是欢迎的，甚至欢迎那些疲于奔命而洋洋自得、层次不高的人。有些身体上的创伤欢迎有人用手来戳疼它们，渴望有人触摸它们，令人难受的瘙痒希望能被抓挠：同样，我要说心中的欲望已经破灭就如同可怕的伤痛，只想通过劳碌或病情恶化来获得乐趣。因为确实有些动作会让我们的身体很愉悦，即便能引起疼痛，比如翻个身换到不感到累的那一侧，还会不断换来换去，让身体感到凉快。所以荷马史诗中的阿基里斯〔2〕一会儿趴下，一会儿仰面躺着，不断变换姿势，像个病人，哪种姿势都待不长，只能辗转变换来缓解病痛。因此，人们四处旅行，在异国海滩上漫步，在陆地、海洋尝试各种不安分的生活，却总是对周围的东西感到厌恶。“咱们现在去坎帕尼亚。”不久，对奢华的生活厌倦了——“咱们到那些蛮荒地区吧，到布鲁蒂姆和卢卡尼亚的森林看看。”但在野外，他们那看惯奢华的双眼在这些肮脏乏味毫无景致之地感到放松的乐趣也在消失。“咱们到塔林顿吧，那里有著名的港口，温暖的冬天，即便在古代也是人口众多繁华热闹的地区。”“咱们现在还是到城市去吧”——他们的耳朵早就向往鼓掌的喧闹声了，现在他们甚至想看人类杀戮流血。他们一次次地出游，不断变换着景点。正如卢克莱修〔3〕所说，“每个人都想以此种方式逃离自我。”但是如果他不能逃出自身，什么时候才是终点呢？他就像是自己的最乏味的伴侣，尾随着自己。所以我们应该意识到我们的难处不在于地点而在于我们自己，我们太脆弱了，不能忍受任何东西，不能忍受劳苦，不能忍受欢乐，不能忍受自己，不能长期忍受任何东西。这一弱点已经把有些人逼得走投无路，因为不断变换目标，他们又回到原来的地方，他们已经没有感到新奇的空间了，他们开始对生活、对世界感到腻烦，自我放纵让他们软弱，又产生了一种“这种同样的事情我还得要忍耐多久”的情绪。

你想知道我建议对这种厌倦的情绪采取的治疗方法吗？正如阿森诺德斯所说的，最好的方法是使自己忙于摄职从政的实际活动。正如有些人愿意在白天进行日光浴、锻炼和其他保健活动，对于运动员来说最切实、最重要的事情就是把大部分时间花在增强四肢力量上，对此他们是全力以赴的，所以对于你这样需要培训心智应对公共生活中的竞争的人，到目前为止最好的办法就是定期实践。当一个人打算使自己对公民和同胞有用，如果他能全身心地投入到为公众和个人服务中去，他就是同时在训练自己并做好事。“但是，”阿森诺德斯〔4〕说，“由于人类如此疯狂、野心勃勃，太多的陷害诬告颠倒黑白，使诚实正直的人处境危险，屡受阻挠而得不到帮助，所以我们确实应该从公共生活和政治生活中隐退，不过一个伟大的思想即便是在私人生活中也还是有机会自由地活动。狮子和其他动物的能量可以被笼子限制住，而人的能量不会，人最伟大的成就往往在退隐之后才能看到。然而，如果一个人无论悠闲地隐居何处，他都能用自己的智慧、言辞和忠告来为个人和人类服务，那么就让他让自己隐居起来吧。为国家服务不止限于那些竞争公职的候选人，法庭上的辩护人，为战争与和平而投票的人。教育年轻人，向他们心中灌输美德的人（出色的教师异常匮乏），还有那遏制、制止人们疯狂追逐财富和奢靡，即使制止不了，至少也能拖延他们步伐的人——这样的人也是在为公众服务，尽管他过的是私人生活。那些处理外国人与本国人之间的案子，向起诉人宣布财产评估人的裁决结果的执政官，和宣讲正义、虔诚、忍耐、勇敢、蔑视死亡、有关诸神的知识、宣讲发自善良之心的祝福是多么自由等问题的本质的人相比，你觉得前者比后者对社会更有益吗？所以如果你从履行公共责任中抽出时间用来研究，你就不算放弃或逃避工作。因为不仅站在前线防御左右两翼的是士兵，守护大门和保卫兵工厂这样虽不是很危险但也不可掉以轻心的岗位，尽管不流血，也是军事职责。如果你致力于研究，你就不会再厌倦生活，不会因厌恶白天而渴望夜晚，你就会感到你既不是自己的负担，对他人也不是无用的，你将吸引很多人成为你的朋友，很多优秀人物会聚集在你的周围。即便是最不起眼的美德也不可能永远隐身，而总会清楚地表露出来：任何值得拥有这种美德的都会寻到她的踪迹。但是如果我们脱离整个社会，远离人群，只为自己活着，这种没有任何趣味的与世隔绝的生活就会引来毫无价值的活动。我们会开始盖一些房子，推倒另一些，拦截海水，再从人工渠道取水，把自然赋予我们利用的时间挥霍掉。我们中有些人能够非常节俭地利用时间，而另一些人却浪费它；有些人可以开出时间账户，另一些人就没有任何结余——这真是最可耻的结局。老年人往往除了年龄再无其他证据证明自己长寿了。”

亲爱的塞雷努斯，我觉得阿森诺德斯太轻易就顺应时代了，太迅速地退隐了。我不否认人有时确实应该让步——但是，应该一点儿一点儿逐渐隐退，应该坚持我们的标准，保持我们战斗者的荣誉。那些与敌人达成协议时并未解除武装的军人更安全，更受人敬重。我想，这是美德及其追求美德者应该做的：如果命运将某人击败，剥夺了他行动的手段，他不应该转身就走，扔下武器找个地方躲起来（好像真有命运找不到的地方似的），而是应该更慎重地履行职责，谨慎地寻找能够为国家服务的机会。假如不能成为战士，就担任公职；假如他要以平民身份生活，就让他当个辩护人；假如情况迫使他保持沉默，就让他以无言的方式帮助他的同胞；假如他在讲坛上露面有危险，就让他在私人住处、演出中、宴会上当个好的伴侣、忠诚的朋友、温文尔雅的赴宴者。假如他没有了一个公民的责任，就让他履行做人的责任。如果我们精神崇高，就不会将自己禁锢在一城之内，我们应走出去与整个地球打交道，把整个世界当成自己的国家，为此，我们就可以让自己的德行在更广阔的领域发挥作用。假设你被禁止在法院工作、在公众场合讲演、参加选举，那么想想身后向你开放的大片地区和欢迎你的各国人民吧——你永远也不会发现对你禁入的领域比向你开放的领域更广大。但是当心不要让这全都成了你的错——如，除了当执政官、议长、传令官或萨菲斯〔5〕，你不想担任别的官职。但是假如除了当将军或司令官否则你就不想在军队服务呢？即便其他人担当最高级别的官职，而命运让你就当个三等兵，那么你必须用声音、你的鼓动、你的示范、你的精神来承担士兵的责任。如果一个人手被砍下，他还能发现自己可以毅然挺立履行自己的职责为他人助威。你也应该像他这样做：如果命运免去了你在公共事业中的显要职位，你也要坚定地挺住，鼓励其他人的工作；而如果有人扼住你的喉咙，你要继续挺立，一声不响地助他人一臂之力。一个好公民的服务从来就不会没有作用：人们可以听到，可以看到，他通过表情、点头、缄口不语，甚至步态提供帮助。就如一些有益健康的食品，即便没有品尝，不用触摸，仅从它们散发出的味道我们就能受益，美德即使藏身于很远的地方也能显露其优点。无论她是出国办理正当业务，或经默许露面，或被迫卷起船帆，无论她是被禁锢的、静止不动的，还是一言不发的，是局限在狭小空间里，还是显而易见的，在任何条件下她都能够有所帮助。你为什么认为一个体面退休了的人就不能做有价值的榜样？如果由于时运不济或国家状况不允许，不能将全部精力投入于一种生活，那么最理想的就是就是将休闲与某种活动结合，因为你总会找到一条途径参与某种高尚的活动。

当三十僭主将雅典搞得四分五裂的时候，你见过比那更糟糕的城市吗？他们杀死了1300个最优秀的公民还不罢休，十足的野性刺激他们继续倒行逆施。这个城市设有亚略巴古——最神圣的高级法院，和元老院，以及与元老院同级别的公民大会，每天一伙邪恶的刽子手聚集在这里，而不幸的元老院议厅中集聚着众位僭主。一个国家如果僭主与侍从的人数相差无几了，这样的国家还能太平吗？连恢复自由的希望都很渺茫，更没有合适的机会处置这些掌有实权的恶棍。这可怜的国家到哪儿找足够多的像哈默迪乌斯〔6〕这样的人呢？而苏格拉底深陷这场激战中，他安慰郁闷沮丧的元老，鼓励那些对国家绝望的人，谴责那些为自己财富担惊受怕的富豪，这些人为当初不顾死活的贪婪感到悔之晚矣，而对于那些乐意效仿他的人来说，他是活生生的鼓励，是三十僭主身边自由的灵魂。然而，就是这个人被雅典亲手处死于深牢大狱，自由之神不能容忍曾公开嘲弄一群暴君的人享有自由。所以你能明白这两点了：在一个灾难深重的国度，智者有机会显示其影响力；而在一个繁荣昌盛的国家，不择手段地攫钱、嫉妒，及上千种卑怯的恶行会大行其道。因而，我们应该按照国家的安排和命运所赋予我们的自由，扩展或缩小我们的活动，但是无论如何我们应该振奋精神不要陷于恐惧之中萎靡不振。尽管受到来自四面八方的威胁，尽管武器、镣铐的哗啦声不绝于耳，他的勇气丝毫不减也绝不会收敛，这样的人才是真正的男子汉。因为自我保护并非意味着要压抑自我。确实，我相信，库里乌斯·丹塔图斯曾说过他宁可真的去死，也不愿意像具行尸走肉似地活着，因为最可怕的事情莫过于死前只留下活过的岁数。但是如果你恰巧活在一个为国效力非常不易的时代，你就要把时间更多用地用于休闲和文学作品，就像在惊险的航海中不时寻找一个安全的港湾，不要让公共生活先放逐了你，而要先主动摆脱出来。

无论如何，我们必须先要谨慎地审视自己，其次要审视我们想要参与的活动，然后弄明白为了谁、和谁一起进行这些活动。

这其中最重要的就是要正确地评价自己，因为我们总是过高估计自己的能力。某人因对自己的口才太自信而受到伤害；某人因对命运奢求太多超过了它的承受能力；某人超负荷工作使羸弱的身体不堪重负。有的人太羞涩而不适于搞政治，因为搞政治需要大胆地抛头露面；有的人总是率性而为所以不适于司法工作；有的人不能抑制怒火中烧和其他不快情绪以至于出言不逊；有的人不能控制自己的才智，抑制那些机巧却危险的进攻。对于所有这些人，退隐较之公共活动更适于他们——易怒易躁的性格要避免刺激，直言不讳会引出麻烦。

其次，我们必须评估正在做的实事，使自己的力量足以承担起这项工作。执行任务的人永远要比任务本身更强势——负荷太重就会将负重的人压垮。此外，某些任务与其说是伟大，不如说会衍生出很多其他的任务。我们必须避免那些将会产生各种新花样的次生活动，不要染指那些一旦触及就很难抽身的事情。你要去做那些自己可以完成或至少是希望完成的任务，而回避那些在进行过程中会变得越来越多、想停也停不下来的工作。

在对人的选择上，我们也必须非常审慎，必须确定他们是否值得我们为其贡献生命的一部分，牺牲我们的时间是否能使其有所变化。因为有些人确实会以怨报德。阿森诺德斯说他不会陪一个不知心怀感激的人一起进餐。我想你能理解，他更不喜欢拜访那些以一顿饭来报答朋友相助的人，这些人把一道道菜看做是慷慨的给予，好像他们给他的荣耀超过了给与别人的。没有人见证和观看，私下里大快朵颐也是了无生趣的。

你必须了解你的性格更适合实际的活动还是安静的研究与思考，向适合你天生的才能与禀赋的方向发展。伊索克拉底〔7〕强行将埃弗罗斯〔8〕从广场拉走，因为他认为埃弗罗斯更适合去撰写历史。强其所难，天性便不能充分发挥；与自然作对，我们便会徒劳无功。

但是没有比深厚、诚挚的友谊更令人欣喜的了。有人随时乐意倾听你毫无顾忌地倾诉心中秘密，是多么幸福的事情！和他们分享你的所知，你会觉得比个人独享还轻松，和他们叙谈能够抚平你心中的苦闷，他们的忠告促使你作出决定，他们的欢乐化解了你的忧愁，他们只要一露面就会让你高兴！诚然，我们要选择那些最大限度地摆脱了很强欲望的人，因为恶行都是不露声色地散布的，和近在咫尺的恶人接触我们也会遭到攻击和侵害。这正如传染病流行时我们必须小心不要坐在已经出现发烧症状的病人旁边，因为这样对我们是危险的，他们冲着我们呼吸会使我们染病。所以在选择朋友时，我们要谨慎选择那些人品没有问题的。健康的人和有病的人混杂在一起，是传播疾病的开始。但是我并不是让你只追随智者，并与他们联系。我们到哪儿才能找到那位我们已苦寻良久的智者？理想情况下我们只能在坏人里挑最不坏的。如果你能在柏拉图们、色诺芬们或苏格拉底的其他门徒中寻找好人，或者如果你可以进入加图时代，那个时代产生了不愧为加图时代的人（还产生了很多有史以来最邪恶的人，这些人犯有骇人听闻的罪行：加图对这两种人都有必要赏识一番，他需要好人来赢得他们的首肯，也需要那些坏蛋来证明自己的力量），那就再好不过了。但在当下好人稀缺的时候你在选择时不能太挑剔。还有，你要特别注意别选那些阴郁伤感的人，这种人找个茬儿就发牢骚，虽然人毫无疑问是忠诚善良的，但是如果身边有个人对每件事情都焦虑不安，动不动就哼哼唧唧发牢骚，就会对你平和的心境产生破坏。

让我们再来谈谈私有财产这一人类痛苦的最大根源。如果将我们所遭受的其他苦难，如死亡、疾病、恐惧、欲望、对痛苦与艰辛的忍受，与金钱所带来的罪恶相比较，后者要严重得多。所以我们必须记住没有钱要比有了钱又失掉的痛苦轻得多，而且我们应该认识到可以失去的东西越少，给我们带来的痛苦就越小。如果你认为富人更能忍受痛苦你就错了，最高大和最矮小的躯体伤口是一样痛的。比翁对此作了一个恰当的比喻：从一个秃顶上拔头发和从长满头发的头上拔都是一样疼。你可以得出同样的结论，即富人和穷人会感到同样的痛苦，不管贫富，都把钱看得很紧，一旦钱被攫走，都会痛苦。但是，正如我所说的，原本就没有钱财比得而复失所造成的痛苦更容易忍受，也更简单，所以你会发现那些命运女神从未示爱的人比被她抛弃的人要快活得多。灵魂高尚的第欧根尼〔9〕因为认识到这点，所以他把一切安排好，从他那里什么东西都拿不走。你可以称这种状况为贫穷、匮乏、亟需，给这种无忧无虑的自由起个任何难听的名字。只有他没有什么可以失去，否则我不会说他是幸福的。如果我没弄错的话，置身吝啬鬼、骗子、抢劫犯、绑匪这些人中而不受其害，这样的地位堪比帝王。如果有人怀疑第欧根尼的快活，他也同样会对不朽诸神的状况产生质疑——他们是否因为没有房产、公园、出租给外籍佃户的昂贵的农庄，从市场得不到巨额生息的进项而生活得不愉快。你们这些被财富击垮的人，你们不感到羞愧吗？来，看看天空，你会看到财产全无的众神，尽管一无所有却能贡献一切。一个人抛弃了命运的恩赐，你认为他贫穷，还是类似于不朽的神？德米特里厄斯是庞培的释奴，并不因为比庞培富有就感到羞愧，你说他就因而感到更幸福吗？他曾每天给奴隶记数，就像一位将军检阅自己的军队，而之前，他会认为有两个下等奴隶和稍宽敞一些的小屋就是富有了。当有人告诉第欧根尼说他唯一的奴隶逃跑了，他觉得不值得把他找回来。“如果曼斯没有第欧根尼可以活，而第欧根尼没有曼斯就活不下去，那是很可耻的。”他说。我想他的意思是：“管好自己的事吧，命运之神，第欧根尼现在没有属于你的东西了。我的奴隶跑了——不，是我解脱了，获得了自由。”一家子的奴隶需要穿衣、吃饭，这么多贪吃的家伙要填饱肚子，要给他们买衣服，还得提防他们偷偷摸摸，接受他们边哭边骂的服务，人如果不欠任何人任何东西，除了一个他可以轻易就拒绝的人——他自己，这样的人是多么幸福！但是，由于我们没有这样的意志力，所以我们至少得缩减自己的财产，以尽可能少地遭受命运的打击。战争中，那些能将身体全都缩进盔甲里的人要比盔甲遮拦不住而使身体暴露在外容易受伤的人更适合打仗。所以钱的最理想的数额应是既不低于贫困线也不要超出太多。

而且，如果我们以前就很节俭，就会满足于这样的限度，不力行节俭，多少财富都不够用，多少财富都不算富足，尤其是补救的方法近在咫尺，贫穷本身可以通过节俭变得富有。让我们习惯于戒除浮夸的生活方式，以功能性质来考量事物，而不是炫耀作秀。让食物来解饿，饮水来解渴，性生活满足需要，让我们学着依靠自己的四肢，懂得调整我们的穿着风格和生活方式，不要一味追求时髦，而要承袭我们祖先的风俗习惯。让我们学会提高自我约束力，戒除奢靡之风，不要好高骛远，不要动辄生气，不要对贫困抱有成见，要勤俭节约，即便很多人羞于如此，我们也要按照自然的需要采取廉价可行的补救方法，遏制自己放纵的希求和对未来着迷的心灵，好像给它戴上脚镣，立志自力更生获取财富而不是靠运气。如此这般并非人生各种各样不应有的灾祸就可全部免除，暴风雨就不会频繁袭击那些勇敢扬帆远航的人。我们必须约束自己的活动，这样命运的武器就找不到攻击的目标，因此流放和灾难就会变害为利，更重大的灾祸就会被比较小的不幸所弥补。当心灵不肯接受教诲，不能用温和的方法治疗，为什么不能服一剂贫困，或耻辱，或一般性损伤的药，采取以毒攻毒的方法？所以让我们习惯于在没有大群人的簇拥下用餐，使唤少一些奴隶，适当购置服装，再限制一下住房面积。不仅是在赛跑和马戏场的竞赛中，而且在人生的赛程中，都要沿着跑道的内圈跑。

即便我们的学习也是这样，虽然学习上的支出是最值得的，但支出的正当与否取决于是否适度。拥有无数本书有什么意义呢？书的主人一生几乎连题目都没有看过。没有得到书的指导，大量的书就成了学习之人的负担，而且专注于几位作家比迷失于众多作者要有益得多。四万册图书在亚历山大的图书馆〔10〕火灾中化为灰烬，外人曾盛赞其为王室财富的豪华见证，如提图斯·李维〔11〕称其为国王高雅品味和奉献精神的卓越成就。这根本不是高雅品味和奉献精神，而是学究气的自我放纵——其实，也谈不上学究气，因为他们收集书不是为了学识，而是为了炫耀。同样你能发现很多人连最基本的文化都没有，他们藏书不是用作学习的工具而是为了装点自家的餐厅。所以我们应该买够用的书来读，而不要买来装饰门面。“不过，”你会说，“这总比把钱浪费在买科林斯式青铜器或画儿上体面多了。”但是在任何领域的过度消费都是应该受到谴责的。你怎么能容忍这样的人，他收集香橼木和象牙的书柜，收藏了不知名的或三流作家的作品，然后就坐在他那几千本书中，打着哈欠，更多地是为书的封面和标签感到得意？于是，你就会看到最无所事事的人竟拥有好多套演讲词和历史书籍，装书的板条箱一直摞到天花板——如今精美的藏书室也和冷热浴室一样成了家中必不可少的装饰物。当然我可以原谅那些人由于酷爱学习而犯的错，但是这些贤哲的著作及其多幅画像收集起来仅仅就为装点一堵墙以显示自命不凡呀。

不过你也许在生活中陷入了某种困难的境地，公务或私事在你神不知鬼不觉时就收紧了绳套，使你既不能解开又不能弄断。想想带着脚镣的囚徒只是在最开始的时候感到腿上的镣铐的重量，当他们决定放弃挣扎强忍下去时，他们就从事情的必然性中学到了要以坚韧的精神来忍受，而且习与性成，逐渐学会了要以放松的态度来忍受。如果你有藐视困难的精神，不为困难所烦扰，那么在任何生活状况中，你都可以找到乐趣、消遣和快活。没有比这方面更让我们应该感谢自然了，由于了解我们生于何种苦难之中，她为人类设计了在灾祸面前可以得到慰藉的习性，以使人类可以尽快在最恶劣的祸事面前泰然处之。如果灾祸以一成不变的力度持续向我们进攻，那么没有人能够忍受长久的不幸。我们都被命运所束缚，有些人是被较松的金锁链所束缚，而另些人则被较紧的劣质金属锁链所束缚，但是这又有什么关系呢？我们都被禁锢着，那些束缚着别人的人，自己也被束缚着——除非你也许能感觉左手的锁链轻一些〔12〕。有的人被高官束缚，有的人被财富束缚；高贵的出身压倒一些人，卑贱的出身又压倒另一些人；有些人屈从于别人的管制，另一些人屈从于自己的管制；有的人因为被流放而限居于一处，另一些人则因为履行神职而不得不住在某个地方：所有的生活都是苦役。所以你要习惯自己的环境，尽可能不要抱怨，尽可能弄清它们带给你的只要思想稳定，总能在逆境中找到安慰。如果规划巧妙，即使很小的面积也能分成具有多种用途的空间；倘若安排合理，狭小的地块也能居住。想出战胜困难的办法，条件艰苦的可以改善，条件有限的可以拓宽，负担太重如果知道如何承担便可减轻。此外，我们绝对不能好高骛远，而是应该探究那些触手可及的东西，因为欲望不能被完全控制。放弃那些不可能或很难得到的东西，努力获取那些容易得到的和极想得到的，而且要认识到所有东西都是微不足道的，表面上不同，内里全都一样无用。不要羡慕那些比自己地位高的人，高高耸立的是悬崖绝壁。另一方面，被命运不公平地置于危险境地的人倒反而安全，因为那种状况有利于他们戒骄戒躁处事低调。确实有很多人被迫固守于高端，如果不是自己坠落，他们不会下来，但是他们必须要承受这样的事实：他们不得已成为别人的负担，这本身就是最大的负担，而且他们并不是上升到那样的高度，而是被钉到了高处。让这些人以公正、温和、善良、慷慨作为安全措施来抵御今后的灾难，并寄希望于更安全的处境吧。但是将我们从精神游移不定的状态中拯救出来的最有效的方法是对前面的历程设置一些限制。当需要停止时，不要让命运来作决定，而应由我们自己早早决定罢手不干。这样，当我们的心灵被欲望刺激时，就会被限制住，就不会将我们引入无法控制的偏离境地。

我所讲的这些适合那些有缺点的、普通的、不健全的人，而不是智者。智者不必神色紧张、小心翼翼地走动，因为他能很自信地毫不犹豫地对抗命运，而且决不妥协。他没有理由惧怕她，因为他不仅将他的东西、财产和地位，而且甚至连他的身体，他的眼睛和手，以及那些使生命更珍贵的东西，还有他本身，都看成是默许给他的。他活着就如同他是有人出借给他的，必定要按要求偿还的，没什么可抱怨的。他并没有因此在他自己眼中变得廉价，因为他知道他不是自己的，但是他会在做所有事情时都小心谨慎，就像一个虔诚圣洁的人守卫着托付给他的东西一样。而无论何时命令他偿还债务，他都不会抱怨命运，而会说：“我为自己所持有和保留的一切而感谢你。我照看了你的财产获取了巨大利益，但是应你的要求，我怀着感激的心情和良好的意愿交给你。如果你想让我仍旧拥有你的任何东西，我会妥善保存，如果你不同意我保有这些东西，我会把银币、银盘、房子、我的家全都还给你。”如果自然要求将她原先托付给我们的东西归还，我们会对她说：“把我的灵魂收回吧，它现在比当初你赋予我时好得多，我不会推托，不会退缩，我很高兴你把我意识到之前给我的东西都拿走——拿走吧。”回到你来的地方有什么害处吗？如果不能正确对待死亡：就会活得一团糟，所以我们必须首先摒弃我们在这件事上所确立的价值观，把生命的气息看做一种廉价的东西。用西塞罗的话说，我们厌恶那些不惜一切手段急于保住自己生命的角斗士，我们也赏识那些公开藐视生命的角斗士。你要知道同样的事也适合我们：死亡的原因往往是因为惧怕死亡。命运女神戏弄我们说，“为什么我要让你们这些胆怯的贱民活着。既然你们不知道怎么把喉咙伸出来，就让你们尝尝更厉害的创伤和刀刺的滋味。但是如果你们能勇敢地面对刀锋，没有缩脖，没有用手挡，那么你们将活得更长，死得更安逸。”那些惧怕死亡的人永远不会做一个活人值得做的事。但是知道这是在自己孕育母腹那一刻就设定好的条件的人，将依这些条款生活，同时他将以同样心灵的力量来保证任何事都不会令其感到意外吃惊。他把可能发生的都看成将要发生的，他能减轻那些麻烦的杀伤力，那些有所准备拭目以待的人不会对它们感到惊讶，但它们对那些疏忽大意、期望一切都会顺利的人却是沉重打击。疾病、坐牢、灾害、火灾，所有这些都是可以预知的——我不知道自然将我归于哪个烦扰的行列。有那么多回邻居哀悼死去的亲人，那么多回人们手举火把和蜡烛为早逝的亲人举行葬礼，他们的队伍从我们家门口走过。建筑物倒塌的轰隆声时常在我的耳边回响。很多在广场、元老院和通过聊天与我建立了联系的人一夜之间溘然长逝，将友谊之手撒开。这些时时在我周围游荡的险情如果某一天降临到我头上，会让我惊慌失措吗？有多少人计划海上远航却没有考虑到会有暴风雨的袭击！我从来没觉得从一个蹩脚作者的著作中引用一句经典的句子有什么不体面的。只要普布利柳斯〔13〕不写荒唐的笑剧，也不考虑低层观众，他所显示的智慧远远超过悲喜剧的作家们，他作品中的很多思想光芒远比那些悲剧作者的更耀眼，更别说滑稽剧了，其中包括这句：“发生在一个人身上的事情也可以发生在所有人身上。”如果你让此意沦肌浃髓，而且将别人的灾难（每天都会有大量不幸事情发生）看做有一条清晰的路径也通向你，你就会在灾祸袭击前早早装备防御好。当危险已至，才开始武装自己的思想来对抗它就为时太晚了。“我觉得不会发生这样的事呀？”“你曾想到竟然会是这样的吗？”为什么不会呢？有哪些财富身后没跟着贫穷、饥饿和乞讨？什么官职的紫袍上、占卜官的器物上、贵族们的鞋带上没有沾染污点、耻辱的烙印、上千个不检点和令人不齿的痕迹？哪个王权没有面临过毁灭、垮台、僭主和刽子手？而且这些事相隔不久就会发生：威坐于王位之上与匍匐于另一王位之前只是转瞬之间。那么就要明白每种情况都会变，发生在任何人身上的事也能发生在你身上。你富有，难道你比庞培还富有？但是当盖乌斯——他原来的亲戚、现在的主子向他打开凯撒的大门以使他能关上他自己时，他甚至连面包和水都没有。虽然庞培拥有那么多源头和河口都在他领地之内的河流，但现在他却要为几滴水而折腰。他又饿又渴最后死于一个亲戚的宫殿里，而就在他忍饥挨饿之际，他的继承人却在为他安排国葬。你曾位居高官，但你的职位有塞扬努斯〔14〕的高，有他那么难以企及，有他那么无所不有吗？然而，就在元老院将他送入监狱的同一天，人们把他撕成碎片，就是这个曾经将诸神与人类所能赋予的一切财富集于一己之身的人，刽子手竟找不到能拖走的尸首。你是国王，我不想对你说库罗伊索斯〔15〕，那个活着目睹了要火葬自己的柴堆被点燃又熄灭的王者，他不仅在国家灭亡后，而且在自己死过一次后还保留了一条命。我也不想对你说朱古达〔16〕，他曾令罗马人闻风丧胆，但是不到一年就被缚到罗马人面前示众。我们曾目睹非洲国王托勒密〔17〕和亚美尼亚国王米特里达特〔18〕被盖乌斯投进监狱，其中一人被流放，另一位更诚心诚意地祈望去流放。在这接连的天翻地覆的事件中，除非你认为能发生的必定会发生，否则你会屈服于灾难的压力之下，这灾难会让首次目睹的人崩溃。

下一个问题是确保我们不要毫无意义地浪费自己的精力，或者说不要做无意义的事，就是说不要希求我们无法得到的东西，或不要希求那些一旦得到就会让我们感觉不值得为之花费很多时间很大力气的愿望。换句话说，我们不能徒劳无益、劳而无功，也不能事倍功半，一般来说如果我们不能取胜或者对获胜的过程感到愧疚，那么痛苦就会接踵而至。我们必须戒除那种东奔西跑好凑热闹的浮躁风气，很多人热衷于这样的生活，他们聚集在宅邸、剧院或讲坛的周围，好管别人的闲事，总是给人一种忙忙碌碌的印象。如果其中一位从房子出来，你可以问他：“你要去哪儿？你想什么呢？”他会回答：“我真的不知道，不过我要见一些人，我要做一些事。”他们四处游荡，漫无目的地找事干，不是做想要做的事而是碰到什么做什么。他们百无聊赖毫无目的地闲逛，就像蚂蚁爬到灌木丛上，漫无目的地一直爬到树枝的最上端，然后又原路返回爬下来。很多人过着和这些动物一样的生活，将其称为无事忙绝非不公。当你看到那些人匆匆忙忙擦身而过像是去救火，就会不免心生遗憾，他们常常会在路上迎头撞到别人，不是自己就是对方摔个仰八叉，这时他们往往都是去匆忙拜访某个从不会回访的人，或是去参加某个根本就不认识的人的葬礼，或去旁听某个不断惹官司的人的庭审，要么就去参加一个结过多次婚的女人的订婚仪式，照看一下轿子，有时甚至抬着它。然后他们回家，筋疲力尽，不知目的何在，诅咒说他们不知道为什么要往外跑，跑到哪儿去了——而第二天他们故态复萌，继续闲逛游荡。所以，要让所有的活动都在某一目标指引下进行，让其目的清晰可见。并非那些活动让人们焦躁不安，而是事情虚假的表象让人们发狂，因为连狂人也需要希望来刺激他们，而某些东西的外表对他们会产生刺激，因为他们被蒙蔽的心识别不出那些毫无价值的事情。那些闲逛的人不断扩充着这一群体，他们中的每个人都以同样方式以各种空虚琐屑的理由在城市转悠。天一亮，他没事可做，就往外走，在很多人家的大门口碰了钉子，只在和通报来客的奴仆打了个招呼就被关在了门外，这时他才发现没有谁比他本人更难在家中找到的了。这种劣行又引发另一种最可鄙的恶习：偷听打探公开的和秘密的消息，了解那些讲出去和听起来都不靠谱的事情。

我猜德谟克利特一定是注意到这种现象才开始这样说的：“任何人如果想过安静日子就不要参与很多活动，无论是公共的还是私人的活动。”——他说的当然是指无意义的活动。如果是必要的活动，那么不仅是很多，而且是无数的公事或私事都得要做。但是如果没有义务和责任需要我们去做，我们最好克制自己。因为一个人如果要干很多事，往往就会将自己置于命运的掌控下，而最安全的方针是少去引起她的注意，虽然还要时时把她记挂在心，却任何事情都不能相信她。于是会有人说：“我要出航，除非有什么事发生”，“我要当执政官，除非有什么事阻止我”，“我的生意要成功了，除非有什么干扰。”这就是为什么我们说智者身上不会发生违背其期望的事情。并不是说，发生在所有人身上的概率不会发生在他身上，而是说他不会在概率上犯错误。事情的结果未必如他所愿，但他可以估计得到——而首先他应该估计到会有什么事妨碍他实现自己的计划。如果没有许诺必然会成功，那么热望变失望所产生的烦恼肯定就容易对付了。

我们还应该让自己通权达变，这样就不会过分寄希望于制订好的计划上，而可以转移到有机会可以做成的事情上，不必对目的或条件发生变化感到恐惧，假定变化无常这种最不利于心态平和的不利因素无法掌控我们。固执己见常常会让命运勒索某些东西，因而一定会带来不幸和焦虑，而更严重的是反复无常，这是任何地方都无法抑制的。这两方面都是心态平和的大敌，而且你会发现既不能改变，也不能忍耐。任何情况下都必须将心灵从外部召唤到本身：它必须信任自己，自得其乐，自我欣赏，必须尽可能多地从别人的事情中抽身，关注自身，不要患得患失，即便是灾祸，也要仁心相待。一次，海难消息传来，芝诺，我们斯多葛派的创始人，听说他所有的财产都沉到海里后说：“命运让我做一个少有拖累的哲人。”当一个暴君威胁要杀死哲学家色俄多鲁斯并且真的要让他暴尸街头时，他回答：“只要你高兴，我的半品脱的血由你处置，至于说埋葬，如果你觉得我在地上还是在地下腐烂对我来说很重要，你就太愚蠢了。”尤里乌斯·卡那斯〔19〕，一个杰出的优秀人士，即使他出生在我们这个时代，我们也非常钦佩他，他与盖乌斯进行了长时间的争论，当他要离开时，那个法拉里斯〔20〕对他说：“为了让你不再为自己愚蠢的希望所迷惑，我已命令将你带走处决。”他的回答是：“我谢谢你，高贵的君主。”我不能确定他这话什么意思，我可以想出几种可能。他的意思是说对方的残忍已经使死亡成了祝福，以此来侮辱对方吗？他是嘲弄对方每天都发疯（因为那些孩子被杀、财产被没收的人一向都得向他表示感谢）吗？他是把对他的宣判当成乐于接受的解脱吗？无论他是什么意思，都是勇敢无畏的应答。有些人会说：“这之后盖乌斯可能会命令让他活下来。”卡那斯不惧那些，众所周知，下达此类命令之后，盖乌斯从来都不食言的。你相信卡那斯在行刑前的十天里过得无忧无虑吗？这个人的所说、所做简直令人难以置信，他保持得多么平静。当拉着一队死刑犯的百夫长命令他也站出来时，他正在下国际跳棋。听到叫他，他数了数棋子对他的棋友说：“听着，我死了以后你不许谎称自己赢了。”然后对百夫长点点头说：“你得作证，我多赢了一个棋子。”你以为卡那斯只是享受棋盘上的游戏吗？他是享受这场充满讽刺意味的游戏。他的朋友为将要失去这样一个人而感到伤心，而他却对他们说：“你们为什么悲伤？你们还弄不明白灵魂为什么不朽，而我很快就知道了。”他直到死都没有停止探索真理，使自己的死成为人们讨论的话题。他的哲学导师和他在一起，当他们离着我们高高在上的凯撒每天接受贡品的土丘不远的时候，他说：“卡那斯，你现在在想什么呢？你感觉如何？”卡那斯回答：“我决定做笔记，记录一下瞬间之内灵魂是否意识到自己离开了身躯。”他还许诺说，如果有什么发现他会依次拜访他的朋友们，向他们透露灵魂的状况。看看在飓风中的平静吧，这样的灵魂是值得不朽的，以自己的命运来证明真相，在生命的最后时刻还盘问即将离去的灵魂，不仅到死都在探索研究，而且从死亡的经历本身来探究，没有人对哲学的探究比这更长久。如此伟大的人不会就此立刻撒手人寰，他将受到人们的尊重，被称为高尚的灵魂，他是盖乌斯的又一受害者，我们确信你将永垂不朽。

但是，要驱除个人伤痛的原因是没有意义的，因为我们有时会陷入对整个人类的仇恨中。当你想到单纯多么稀罕，天真多么无人知晓，除了极其短暂的机会忠诚又是多么少见，你碰见过多少罪行得逞，人们由于贪财好色干出的事，无论是得还是失，都是同样地可恶，还有，从不给自己设限的野心，现在如何从恶习中获得荣耀的——所有这些使心灵坠入了黑暗之中将其笼罩于阴影之下，似乎那些美德都被打翻，希求美德既不可能，拥有美德也毫无用处。所以我们必须教育自己不要认为那些普遍存在的恶习可恨，而要看做可笑，我们应该仿效德谟克利特，而不要仿效赫拉克利特。因为当他们走到大庭广众之中，后者总是哭，而前者总是笑，后者认为我们所有的活动都可悲，而前者则认为愚蠢。所以我们不要把这些事情看得太严重，而应该宽容它们，嘲弄生活总比哀叹生活要开化多了。还要记住：对生活付之一笑的人比对生活充满忧伤的人更优秀，因为笑对人生的人对生活留有美好的希望，而另一种人对那些无望纠正的事情只是愚蠢地悲叹。而且，全盘考虑这些事情，会发现开怀大笑比涕泗滂沱是更博大的思想的表现，因为笑表达的是我们最温柔的情感，而且认为我们生存的一切外在东西都无所谓强烈、严重，甚至不幸。每个人如果都好好考虑给我们带来喜与悲的每件事情，他就会领会比翁箴言的真谛：人类所做的一切都和他起始时一样，他们的生命并没有比孕育时更高尚更恶劣，生时一无所有，最终回归于一无所有。不过，能够平静地接受大众的行为方式和人类的缺陷则更为妥当，不要失控于大笑或哭泣。因为为别人的痛苦而苦恼意味着永恒的烦扰，而从别人的痛苦中获取快乐则是一种缺少人性的快乐，就如看到别人埋葬自己儿子时你也哭泣或表情庄重都是没必要表达的慈悲。对于自己的烦恼也是一样，得体的举止应是，悲哀的程度应合乎自然，而不是合乎旧俗。很多人哭是给别人看的，只要没人看，眼睛就是干的了，因为他们觉得当每个人都在哭的时候自己不哭是不得体的。这种跟在别人后面亦步亦趋的恶习如此根深蒂固，连人的最基本的感情——悲痛——的表达也沦为模仿他人。

我们接着还必须看看一种有足够理由引起我们悲哀和焦虑的情况。当好人没有落到好下场时，当苏格拉底被迫死于狱中，当茹提利乌斯被流放，当庞培和西塞罗不得不在自己的门客面前引颈受戮，当加图这个道德的典范，挥剑自刎向世界表明自己和自己的国家已是大难临头时，我们会为命运如此不公平地给予回报而感到忿忿不平。那么，我们每个人在看到这些最出色的人遭到最悲惨的下场时对自己会有怎样的祈望呢？接下来会怎样呢？好好看看这些人是怎么忍受自己的命运的。如果他们是勇敢的，就以你的精神来希求得到他们那种精神；如果他们像女人似地懦弱死去，那么就死得全无价值。他们或因勇敢而值得你赞赏或因懦弱不值得你想念。崇高伟大的人勇敢赴死而使别人感到恐惧，还有比这更耻辱的吗？让我们反复夸奖那些值得夸奖的人，让我们说：“人越勇敢，就越幸福！你已经逃过了所有的劫难、嫉恨和疾病，你已经出狱——并非因为对诸神来说你就该命途多舛，而是命运再掌控你已没有价值了。”但对那些在赴死之前退缩不舍，回望生活的人，我们应该嗤之以鼻。我不会为幸福的人哭泣，也不会为哭泣的人哭泣，前者会亲手拭去我的泪水，后者因其泪水而不配我为之洒下热泪。我应该为被活活烧死的赫拉克勒斯哭泣吗？或者为瑞古拉斯，因为那么多钉子都戳进他的身体，或者为加图，因为他使自己的伤口又受伤？所有这些人因为放弃短暂而变得永生，因为死亡而成就不朽。

如果你太在意自己的模样而不向任何人公开地表露自己，就像很多人过着虚伪的生活，只想以外表示人，那么就会有产生焦虑的另一大缘由。总是小心翼翼唯恐自己平日的面具滑脱而被人看到，这也是很令人苦恼不安的。当我们想到每当被人看到时总会被人评头品足，这也会使我们不无忧虑，有很多事情是在我们不情愿的时候揭掉了假象，即便这种对自己的关注是正面的，那种总在面具后面的日子也是不开心甚至令人堪忧的。相反，诚实，自然、无修饰的质朴，毫不掩饰自己的个性的生活是多么快乐无忧啊！一旦所有的事情向所有的人曝光，这种生活还难免会有被人鄙视的危险，因为对于某些人来说，熟悉就会产生轻蔑。但是，近距离观察，道德也不会有贬值的危险，质朴而被轻视总比长久装假而苦恼好吧。让我们在这里仍采取中庸之道吧，简朴生活与马马虎虎过日子是有很大区别的。

我们还应该多多回归自我，因为和与自己不同的人接触会扰乱平静的天性，又会触动激情，加重尚未治愈的心理缺陷。然而独处与合群这两种方式必须中和与变通，第一种使我们渴望与人们接触，另一种又使我们渴望自己的空间，每一种对于另一种都是一种补救：独处使我们缓解对人多的厌烦，而从众又会消除因独处而产生的乏味。

人的思想不会总一直专注于同一件事，而是要进行一些有趣的消遣。苏格拉底不会因与小孩子在一起玩耍而脸红；加图在料理国事感到疲倦了的时候也会以酒来放松自己的心情；西庇奥过去常常以跳舞来放松那常胜军人的身躯，不是跳现在那种缓慢娇柔的舞蹈，那种让现代男人走路都效仿、扭摆起来比女人还性感的风格，而是过去那种男人在娱乐和节日时跳的充满阳刚之气的舞蹈，这种舞蹈即使在敌人的注视下都不会失去尊严。我们的心情必须放松，休憩之后精神会更饱满、机敏，就如同我们不能强求农田不断高产，那样会使田地很快耗竭，而长时间努力工作也会耗尽我们的精力，短时间的休息和放松则会使能量恢复。长期不间断地工作会使大脑迟钝、疲惫。如果运动和游戏不能带来一种正常的快乐，人们也不会乐于从事，虽然反复沉迷于这些娱乐活动也会使人的思想失重，脑力受到损害。还要谨记的是，睡眠对于恢复体力也是非常必要的，但是如果睡眠时间太长，白天黑夜地睡，那无异于死亡。松驰和放任是有很大区别的。法律制定者规定了假期以使人们按公家要求享有放松的假日，他们认为这样可以使工作达到一种平衡，而如我说过的，某些重要人物每个月给自己规定固定的日子作为假日，而另一些人把每一天分为休息和工作几个时间段。我记得伟大的演说家阿西尼乌斯·波利奥的习惯是每天工作十小时〔21〕后就休息，十小时后连信件都不看了，以免出现新的问题需要处理，他可以在余下的两个小时内摆脱一天的疲劳。有的人中午休息一会儿，把不太要紧的工作留在下午做。我们的前辈还禁止元老院工作十小时后提出任何新的动议。军队将警卫工作分班轮流做，那些刚刚返回的长途巡警不再安排夜间值班。我们必须照顾好我们的思想，不时地让思想休息一下，这是给它补充营养和力量。我们必须到户外去散步，晴朗的天空、新鲜的空气会给我们增添能量与活力。有时我们的心灵需要从乘车出游、景色的变换、社交活动和无拘无束的畅饮中获取能量。偶尔我们甚至要沉浸在酒中陶醉一下，但不是酩酊大醉，这样确实可以冲走烦恼，彻底触动心灵，治愈哀愁，就如治愈某些疾病一般。酒的发明者之所以被称为“解放者”，并非因为酒给了舌头自由让饮者畅所欲言，而是因为他使心灵从被禁锢的状态解脱出来，受到关爱，得到自由，增添活力，并鼓励它大胆从事自己所有的事业。然而，饮酒有一个从健康考虑的适度的问题，就如自由也要有度一般。人们认为梭伦和阿尔凯西劳斯很喜欢喝酒，而有人指责加图酗酒，可任何指责他的人会很容易使加图令人景仰，而不是让他名誉扫地。但我们不能总是饮酒，以免养成坏习惯，但有时可以刺激一下，让心情无拘束地快活一下，暂时收起那一本正经的严肃。无论我们是否认同希腊诗人所说的“有时癫狂也很可爱”，或柏拉图说的“一个理智健全的人要想敲开诗歌王国的大门是徒劳的”，或亚里斯多德所说的“智力超群的人没有不带一点儿癫狂的”，事实是只有心灵被深深触动之后才能写出不同凡响、他人难以企及的作品。只有当它对平庸陈腐的思想不屑一顾，凭借神性的想象力振翮高飞时，才能发出超凡脱俗的高雅心声。只要它停留在自己原有的感觉中，它就不可能达到高难的程度，它必须舍弃惯常的跑道向前驶去，迫不及待地催促驾驭者沿着自己的路线到达一个它自身不敢攀登的高度。

所以，亲爱的塞雷努斯，你现在有了保持心灵宁静的方法，恢复心灵宁静的方法，以及克服那些无意中渐渐染上的缺点的方法。但是可以肯定，除非那摇摆不定的心灵能够时时刻刻得到精心呵护，这些方法都不足以维护如此脆弱的一个东西。

注释

〔1〕　塞雷努斯是塞内加的一个好朋友，是尼禄时代的一个高级官员，塞内加流传下来的好几封信都是写给他的。

〔2〕　指荷马史诗《伊里亚特》中的人物阿基里斯，他因为朋友帕特洛克罗斯的死而痛不欲生，因而辗转反侧，坐立不安。

〔3〕　卢克莱修（约前99—前55）古罗马哲学家。他继承古代原子学说，特别阐述并发展了伊壁鸠鲁的哲学观点。他认为物质的存在是永恒的，提出了“无物能由无中生，无物能归于无”的唯物主义观点。著有哲学长诗《物性论》。

〔4〕　阿森诺德斯是奥古斯都的老师，任其军师二十九年，斯多葛派哲学家。

〔5〕　迦太基政府的一个高级职位。

〔6〕　哈默迪乌斯曾与阿里斯托杰顿一起带头推翻雅典的僭主佩西司特拉提达伊。

〔7〕　伊索克拉底是古代雅典著名的演说家、教师和修辞学家。

〔8〕　埃弗罗斯是公元前4世纪著名的历史学家。

〔9〕　第欧根尼（公元前404－公元前323）出生于一个银行家家庭，是古希腊犬儒学派哲学家。他认为除了自然的需要必须满足外，其他的任何东西，都是不自然的。他强调禁欲主义的自我满足，鼓励放弃舒适环境。作为一个苦行主义的身体力行者，他居住在一只木桶内，过着乞丐一样的生活。

〔10〕　位于埃及亚历山大里亚城，是最著名的古代图书馆。它始建于公元前259年，由埃及的托勒密王朝相继建立与管理。据说当初建亚历山大图书馆唯一的目的就是“收集全世界的书”，实现“世界知识总汇”的梦想。据说当时尽管有战乱，亚历山大图书馆仍藏书约5.4万卷。极盛时据说馆藏各类手稿逾50万卷（纸草卷）。不少历史名人都曾出任过亚历山大图书馆的馆长，很多圣贤也均在此讲学或求学，使图书馆享有“世界上最好的学校”的美名，并在整个地中海世界传播文明长达200至800年。传说它先后毁于两场大火。现在的亚历山大图书馆是1995年后重建的，占地4万平方米，它不仅是埃及的重点建筑项目，也是联合国教科文组织在世界范围内的重大科研和建筑项目。

〔11〕　提图斯·李维（前59年—17年），古罗马历史学家。生于意大利北部的帕塔维乌姆（今帕多瓦）。他学习了文学、史学、修辞学、演说术等，是罗马共和后期学问渊博、几乎无所不知的大学问家。后李维奉命教授屋大维的继孙克劳狄，即后来的皇帝。李维著述丰富，但流传下来的只有《罗马自建城以来的历史》一书。他用40年左右时间写成的这部罗马史巨著，共142卷，记述自传说中的埃涅阿斯到达意大利至公元前9年的史事，著作中保存了丰富和宝贵的历史资料，不失为研究罗马早期及罗马共和国历史的重要文献。

〔12〕　指监守吏，他们有时押解犯人时需要将犯人铐在自己左手上。

〔13〕　普布利柳斯·西鲁斯（公元前42－公元前1年）古罗马作家。

〔14〕　塞扬努斯曾为执政官，他在一次元老院的会议上被押解到监狱，并在同一天被处决。

〔15〕　吕底亚国王库罗伊索斯被波斯王打败，即将遭到火焚处死时，他流泪高呼索伦之名，波斯王问明情况，了解了索伦的警语，动了慈悲之心，免他一死。

〔16〕　努米底亚国王朱古达从公元前111到前105年与古代罗马长期战争。努米底亚拥有精锐骑兵，而罗马军队士气涣散，连遭失败。前107年，马略当选为执政官，受权指挥北非作战，接连获胜。朱古达陷入困境，退至邻国毛里塔尼亚避难。前105年，毛里塔尼亚国王把朱古达引渡给罗马军副，马略凯旋罗马。翌年，朱古达死于狱中，努米底亚被分割。

〔17〕　托勒密是毛里塔尼亚的国王，被流放到罗马处死。

〔18〕　亚美尼亚国王米特里达特后来重新登上王位。

〔19〕　尤里乌斯·卡那斯是斯多葛派哲学家，被暴君卡里古拉处死。

〔20〕　法拉里斯是公元前6世纪西西里岛上的暴君。最臭名昭著的是他叫工匠制作了一头铜牛，将犯人关进牛肚子，然后用火烧，被关在里面的人的惨叫声可以通过缚在牛鼻子上的长笛传出来，长笛可以将惨叫声转化为音乐。

〔21〕　古罗马人将每天日出和日落之间的时间分为12个小时。阿西尼乌斯·波利奥在这12小时中，前10小时工作，然后就休息。

Seneca

On the Shortness of Life

TRANSLATED BY C. D. N. COSTA

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

CONTENTS

On the Shortness of Life

Consolation to Helvia

On Tranquillity of Mind

返回总目录

On the Shortness of Life

Most human beings, Paulinus,〔1〕 complain about the meanness of nature, because we are born for a brief span of life, and because this spell of time that has been given to us rushes by so swiftly and rapidly that with very few exceptions life ceases for the rest of us just when we are getting ready for it. Nor is it just the man in the street and the unthinking mass of people who groan over this — as they see it — universal evil: the same feeling lies behind complaints from even distinguished men. Hence the dictum of the greatest of doctors:〔2〕 'Life is short, art is long.' Hence too the grievance, most improper to a wise man, which Aristotle expressed when he was taking nature to task for indulging animals with such long existences that they can live through five or ten human lifetimes, while a far shorter limit is set for men who are born to a great and extensive destiny. It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it. Life is long enough, and a sufficiently generous amount has been given to us for the highest achievements if it were all well invested. But when it is wasted in heedless luxury and spent on no good activity, we are forced at last by death's final constraint to realize that it has passed away before we knew it was passing. So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it. Just as when ample and princely wealth falls to a bad owner it is squandered in a moment, but wealth however modest, if entrusted to a good custodian, increases with use, so our lifetime extends amply if you manage it properly.

Why do we complain about nature? She has acted kindly: life is long if you know how to use it. But one man is gripped by insatiable greed, another by a laborious dedication to useless tasks. One man is soaked in wine, another sluggish with idleness. One man is worn out by political ambition, which is always at the mercy of the judgement of others. Another through hope of profit is driven headlong over all lands and seas by the greed of trading. Some are tormented by a passion for army life, always intent on inflicting dangers on others or anxious about danger to themselves. Some are worn out by the self-imposed servitude of thankless attendance on the great. Many are occupied by either pursuing other people's money or complaining about their own. Many pursue no fixed goal, but are tossed about in ever-changing designs by a fickleness which is shifting, inconstant and never satisfied with itself. Some have no aims at all for their life's course, but death takes them unawares as they yawn languidly — so much so that I cannot doubt the truth of that oracular remark of the greatest of poets: 'It is a small part of life we really live.' Indeed, all the rest is not life but merely time. Vices surround and assail men from every side, and do not allow them to rise again and lift their eyes to discern the truth, but keep them overwhelmed and rooted in their desires. Never can they recover their true selves. If by chance they achieve some tranquillity, just as a swell remains on the deep sea even after the wind has dropped, so they go on tossing about and never find rest from their desires. Do you think I am speaking only of those whose wickedness is acknowledged? Look at those whose good fortune people gather to see: they are choked by their own blessings. How many find their riches a burden! How many burst a blood vessel by their eloquence and their daily striving to show off their talents! How many are pale from constant pleasures! How many are left no freedom by the crowd of clients surrounding them! In a word, run through them all, from lowest to highest: one calls for legal assistance, another comes to help; one is on trial, another defends him, another gives a judgment; no one makes his claim to himself, but each is exploited for another's sake. Ask about those whose names are learned by heart, and you will see that they have these distinguishing marks: X cultivates Y and Y cultivates Z — no one bothers about himself. Again, certain people reveal the most stupid indignation: they complain about the pride of their superiors because they did not have time to give them an audience when they wanted one. But can anyone dare to complain about another's pride when he himself never has time for himself? Yet whoever you are, the great man has sometimes gazed upon you, even if his look was patronizing, he has bent his ears to your words, he has let you walk beside him. But you never deign to look at yourself or listen to yourself. So you have no reason to claim credit from anyone for those attentions, since you showed them not because you wanted someone else's company but because you could not bearyour own.

Even if all the bright intellects who ever lived were to agree to ponder this one theme, they would never sufficiently express their surprise at this fog in the human mind. Men do not let anyone seize their estates, and if there is the slightest dispute about their boundaries they rush to stones and arms; but they allow others to encroach on their lives — why, they themselves even invite in those who will take over their lives. You will find no one willing to share out his money; but to how many does each of us divide up his life! People are frugal in guarding their personal property; but as soon as it comes to squandering time they are most wasteful of the one thing in which it is right to be stingy. So, I would like to fasten on someone from the older generation and say to him: 'I see that you have come to the last stage of human life; you are close upon your hundredth year, or even beyond: come now, hold an audit of your life. Reckon how much of your time has been taken up by a money-lender, how much by a mistress, a patron, a client, quarrelling with your wife, punishing your slaves, dashing about the city on your social obligations. Consider also the diseases which we have brought on ourselves, and the time too which has been unused. You will find that you have fewer years than you reckon. Call to mind when you ever had a fixed purpose; how few days have passed as you had planned; when you were ever at your own disposal; when your face wore its natural expression; when your mind was undisturbed; what work you have achieved in such a long life; how many have plundered your life when you were unaware of your losses; how much you have lost through groundless sorrow, foolish joy, greedy desire, the seductions of society; how little of your own was left to you. You will realize that you are dying prematurely.'

So what is the reason for this? You are living as if destined to live for ever; your own frailty never occurs to you; you don't notice how much time has already passed, but squander it as though you had a full and overflowing supply — though all the while that very day which you are devoting to somebody or something may be your last. You act like mortals in all that you fear, and like immortals in all that you desire. You will hear many people saying: 'When I am fifty I shall retire into leisure; when I am sixty I shall give up public duties.' And what guarantee do you have of a longer life? Who will allow your course to proceed as you arrange it? Aren't you ashamed to keep for yourself just the remnants of your life, and to devote to wisdom only that time which cannot be spent on any business? How late it is to begin really to live just when life must end! How stupid to forget our mortality, and put off sensible plans to our fiftieth and sixtieth years, aiming to begin life from a point at which few have arrived!

You will notice that the most powerful and highly stationed men let drop remarks in which they pray for leisure, praise it, and rate it higher than all their blessings. At times they long to descend from their pinnacles if they can in safety; for even if nothing external assails or agitates it, high fortune of itself comes crashing down.

The deified Augustus, to whom the gods granted more than to anyone else, never ceased to pray for rest and to seek a respite from public affairs. Everything he said always reverted to this theme — his hope for leisure. He used to beguile his labours with this consolation, sweet though false, that one day he would live to please himself. In a letter he wrote to the senate, after he promised that his rest would not be lacking in dignity nor inconsistent with his former glory, I find these words: 'But it is more impressive to carry out these things than to promise them. Nevertheless, since the delightful reality is still a long way off, my longing for that much desired time has led me to anticipate some of its delight by the pleasure arising from words.' So valuable did leisure seem to him that because he could not enjoy it in actuality, he did so mentally in advance. He who saw that everything depended on himself alone, who decided the fortune of individuals and nations, was happiest when thinking of that day on which he would lay aside his own greatness. He knew from experience how much sweat those blessings gleaming through every land cost him, how many secret anxieties they concealed. He was forced to fight first with his fellow-countrymen, then with his colleagues, and finally with his relations, shedding blood on land and sea. Driven to fight in Macedonia, Sicily, Egypt, Syria, Asia — almost every country — he turned his armies against foreign enemies when they were tired of shedding Roman blood. While he was establishing peace in the Alps and subduing enemies established in the middle of his peaceful empire; while he was extending his boundaries beyond the Rhine, the Euphrates and the Danube, at Rome itself Murena, Caepio, Lepidus, Egnatius and others were sharpening their swords against him. Nor had he yet escaped their plots when his daughter and all the noble youths bound to her by adultery as though by an oath kept alarming his feeble old age, as did Iullus and a second formidable woman linked to an Antony. He cut away these ulcers, limbs and all, but others took their place: just like a body with a surfeit of blood which is always subject to a haemorrhage somewhere. So he longed for leisure, and as his hopes and thoughts dwelt on that he found relief for his labours: this was the prayer of the man who could grant the prayers of mankind.

When Marcus Cicero was cast among men like Catiline and Clodius and Pompey and Crassus — some of them undisguised enemies and some doubtful friends — when he was tossed about in the storm that struck the state, he tried to hold it steady as it went to its doom; but at last he was swept away. He had neither peace in prosperity nor patience in adversity, and how often does he curse that very consulship, which he had praised without ceasing though not without good reason! What woeful words he uses in a letter to Atticus when the elder Pompey had been conquered, and his son was still trying to revive his defeated forces in Spain! 'Do you want to know,' he said, 'what I am doing here? I am staying a semi-prisoner in my Tusculan villa.' He then goes on to bewail his former life, to complain of the present, and to despair of the future. Cicero called himself a semi-prisoner, but really and truly the wise man will never go so far as to use such an abject term. He will never be a semi-prisoner, but will always enjoy freedom which is solid and complete, at liberty to be his own master and higher than all others. For what can be above the man who is above fortune?

Livius Drusus, a bold and vigorous man, had proposed laws which renewed the evil policy of the Gracchi, and he was supported by a huge crowd from all over Italy. But he could see no successful outcome for his measures, which he could neither carry through nor abandon once embarked upon; and he is said to have cursed the turbulent life he had always lived, saying that he alone had never had a holiday even as a child. For while still a ward and dressed as a youth he ventured to speak to a jury in favour of some accused men, and to acquire influence in the law courts, with so much effect that, as we all know, he forced certain verdicts favourable to his clients. To what lengths would so precocious an ambition not go? You might have known that such premature boldness would result in terrible trouble, both public and private. So he was too late in complaining that he had never had a holiday, since from his boyhood he had been a serious trouble-maker in the Forum. It is uncertain whether he died by his own hand, for he collapsed after receiving a sudden wound in the groin, some people doubting whether his death was self-inflicted, but no one doubting that it was timely.

It would be superfluous to mention any more who, though seeming to others the happiest of mortals, themselves bore true witness against themselves by their expressed hatred of every action of their lives. Yet they did not change themselves or anyone else by these complaints, for after their explosion of words their feelings reverted to normal.

Assuredly your lives, even if they last more than a thousand years, will shrink into the tiniest span: those vices will swallow up any space of time. The actual time you have — which reason can prolong though it naturally passes quickly — inevitably escapes you rapidly: for you do not grasp it or hold it back or try to delay that swiftest of all things, but you let it slip away as though it were something superfluous and replaceable.

But among the worst offenders I count those who spend all their time in drinking and lust, for these are the worst preoccupations of all. Other people, even if they are possessed by an illusory semblance of glory, suffer from a respectable delusion. You can give me a list of miserly men, or hot-tempered men who indulge in unjust hatreds or wars: but they are all sinning in a more manly way. It is those who are on a headlong course of gluttony and lust who are stained with dishonour. Examine how all these people spend their time — how long they devote to their accounts, to laying traps for others or fearing those laid for themselves, to paying court to others or being courted themselves, to giving or receiving bail, to banquets (which now count as official business): you will see how their activities, good or bad, do not give them even time to breathe.

Finally, it is generally agreed that no activity can be successfully pursued by an individual who is preoccupied — not rhetoric or liberal studies — since the mind when distracted absorbs nothing deeply, but rejects everything which is, so to speak, crammed into it. Living is the least important activity of the preoccupied man; yet there is nothing which is harder to learn. There are many instructors in the other arts to be found everywhere: indeed, some of these arts mere boys have grasped so thoroughly that they can even teach them. But learning how to live takes a whole life, and, which may surprise you more, it takes a whole life to learn how to die. So many of the finest men have put aside all their encumbrances, renouncing riches and business and pleasure, and made it their one aim up to the end of their lives to know how to live. Yet most of these have died confessing that they did not yet know — still less can those others know. Believe me, it is the sign of a great man, and one who is above human error, not to allow his time to be frittered away: he has the longest possible life simply because whatever time was available he devoted entirely to himself. None of it lay fallow and neglected, none of it under another's control; for being an extremely thrifty guardian of his time he never found anything for which it was worth exchanging. So he had enough time; but those into whose lives the public have made great inroads inevitably have too little.

Nor must you think that such people do not sometimes recognize their loss. Indeed, you will hear many of those to whom great prosperity is a burden sometimes crying out amidst their hordes of clients or their pleadings in law courts or their other honourable miseries. 'It's impossible to live.' Of course it's impossible. All those who call you to themselves draw you away from yourself. How many days has that defendant stolen from you? Or that candidate? Or that old lady worn out with burying her heirs? Or that man shamming an illness to excite the greed of legacy-hunters? Or that influential friend who keeps people like you not for friendship but for display? Mark off, I tell you, and review the days of your life: you will see that very few — the useless remnants — have been left to you. One man who has achieved the badge of office he coveted longs to lay it aside, and keeps repeating, 'Will this year never end?' Another man thought it a great coup to win the chance of giving games, but, having given them, he says, 'When shall I be rid of them?' That advocate is grabbed on every side throughout the Forum, and fills the whole place with a huge crowd extending further than he can be heard: but he says, 'When will vacation come?' Everyone hustles his life along, and is troubled by a longing for the future and weariness of the present. But the man who spends all his time on his own needs, who organizes every day as though it were his last, neither longs for nor fears the next day. For what new pleasures can any hour now bring him? He has tried everything, and enjoyed everything to repletion. For the rest, Fortune can dispose as she likes: his life is now secure. Nothing can be taken from this life, and you can only add to it as if giving to a man who is already full and satisfied food which he does not want but can hold. So you must not think a man has lived long because he has white hair and wrinkles: he has not lived long, just existed long. For suppose you should think that a man had had a long voyage who had been caught in a raging storm as he left harbour, and carried hither and thither and driven round and round in a circle by the rage of opposing winds? He did not have a long voyage, just a long tossing about.

I am always surprised to see some people demanding the time of others and meeting a most obliging response. Both sides have in view the reason for which the time is asked and neither regards the time itself — as if nothing there is being asked for and nothing given. They are trifling with life's most precious commodity, being deceived because it is an intangible thing, not open to inspection and therefore reckoned very cheap — in fact, almost without any value. People are delighted to accept pensions and gratuities, for which they hire out their labour or their support or their services. But nobody works out the value of time: men use it lavishly as if it cost nothing. But if death threatens these same people, you will see them praying to their doctors; if they are in fear of capital punishment, you will see them prepared to spend their all to stay alive. So inconsistent are they in their feelings. But if each of us could have the tally of his future years set before him, as we can of our past years, how alarmed would be those who saw only a few years ahead, and how carefully would they use them! And yet it is easy to organize an amount, however small, which is assured; we have to be more careful in preserving what will cease at an unknown point.

But you are not to think that these people do not know how precious time is. They commonly say to those they are particularly fond of that they are ready to give them some of their years. And they do give them without being aware of it; but the gift is such that they themselves lose without adding anything to the others. But what they actually do not know is whether they are losing; thus they can bear the loss of what they do not know has gone. No one will bring back the years; no one will restore you to yourself. Life will follow the path it began to take, and will neither reverse nor check its course. It will cause no commotion to remind you of its swiftness, but glide on quietly. It will not lengthen itself for a king's command or a people's favour. As it started out on its first day, so it will run on, nowhere pausing or turning aside. What will be the outcome? You have been preoccupied while life hastens on. Meanwhile death will arrive, and you have no choice in making yourself available for that.

Can anything be more idiotic than certain people who boast of their foresight? They keep themselves officiously preoccupied in order to improve their lives; they spend their lives in organizing their lives. They direct their purposes with an eye to a distant future. But putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future. The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune's control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately. Listen to the cry of our greatest poet, who as though inspired with divine utterance sings salutary verses:

Life's finest day for wretched mortals here

Is always first to flee.

'Why do you linger?' he means. 'Why are you idle? If you don't grasp it first, it flees.' And even if you do grasp it, it will still flee. So you must match time's swiftness with your speed in using it, and you must drink quickly as though from a rapid stream that will not always flow. In chastising endless delay, too, the poet very elegantly speaks not of the 'finest age' but 'finest day'. However greedy you are, why are you so unconcerned and so sluggish (while time flies so fast), extending months and years in a long sequence ahead of you? The poet is telling you about the day — and about this very day that is escaping. So can it be doubted that for wretched mortals — that is, the preoccupied — the finest day is always the first to flee? Old age overtakes them while they are still mentally childish, and they face it unprepared and unarmed. For they have made no provision for it, stumbling upon it suddenly and unawares, and without realizing that it was approaching day by day. Just as travellers are beguiled by conversation or reading or some profound meditation, and find they have arrived at their destination before they knew they were approaching it; so it is with this unceasing and extremely fast-moving journey of life, which waking or sleeping we make at the same pace — the preoccupied become aware of it only when it is over.

If I wanted to divide my theme into different headings and offer proofs, I would find many arguments to prove that the preoccupied find life very short. But Fabianus, who was not one of today's academic philosophers but the true old-fashioned sort, used to say that we must attack the passions by brute force and not by logic; that the enemy's line must be turned by a strong attack and not by pinpricks; for vices have to be crushed rather than picked at. Still, in order that the people concerned may be censured for their own individual faults, they must be taught and not just given up for lost.

Life is divided into three periods, past, present and future. Of these, the present is short, the future is doubtful, the past is certain. For this last is the one over which Fortune has lost her power, which cannot be brought back to anyone's control. But this is what preoccupied people lose: for they have no time to look back at their past, and even if they did, it is not pleasant to recall activities they are ashamed of. So they are unwilling to cast their minds back to times ill spent, which they dare not relive if their vices in recollection become obvious — even those vices whose insidious approach was disguised by the charm of some momentary pleasure. No one willingly reverts to the past unless all his actions have passed his own censorship, which is never deceived. The man who must fear his own memory is the one who has been ambitious in his greed, arrogant in his contempt, uncontrolled in his victories, treacherous in his deceptions, rapacious in his plundering, and wasteful in his squandering. And yet this is the period of our time which is sacred and dedicated, which has passed beyond all human risks and is removed from Fortune's sway, which cannot be harassed by want or fear or attacks of illness. It cannot be disturbed or snatched from us: it is an untroubled, everlasting possession. In the present we have only one day at a time, each offering a minute at a time. But all the days of the past will come to your call: you can detain and inspect them at your will — something which the preoccupied have no time to do. It is the mind which is tranquil and free from care which can roam through all the stages of its life: the minds of the preoccupied, as if harnessed in a yoke, cannot turn round and look behind them. So their lives vanish into an abyss; and just as it is no use pouring any amount of liquid into a container without a bottom to catch and hold it, so it does not matter how much time we are given if there is nowhere for it to settle; it escapes through the cracks and holes of the mind. The present time is extremely short, so much so that some people are unaware of it. For it is always on the move, flowing on in a rush; it ceases before it has come, and does not suffer delay any more than the firmament or the stars, whose unceasing movement never pauses in the same place. And so the preoccupied are concerned only with the present, and it is so short that it cannot be grasped, and even this is stolen from them while they are involved in their many distractions.

In a word, would you like to know how they do not live long? See how keen they are to live long. Feeble old men pray for a few more years; they pretend they are younger than they are; they comfort themselves by this deception and fool themselves as eagerly as if they fooled Fate at the same time. But when at last some illness has reminded them of their mortality, how terrified do they die, as if they were not just passing out of life but being dragged out of it. They exclaim that they were fools because they have not really lived, and that if only they can recover from this illness they will live in leisure. Then they reflect how pointlessly they acquired things they never would enjoy, and how all their toil has been in vain. But for those whose life is far removed from all business it must be amply long. None of it is frittered away, none of it scattered here and there, none of it committed to fortune, none of it lost through carelessness, none ofit wasted on largesse, none of it superfluous: the whole of it, so to speak, is well invested. So, however short, it is fully sufficient, and therefore whenever his last day comes, the wise man will not hesitate to meet death with a firm step.

Perhaps you want to know whom I would call the preoccupied? You must not imagine I mean just those who are driven from the law court only by the arrival of the watchdogs; or those whom you see crushed either honourably in their own crowd of supporters or contemptuously in someone else's; or those whose social duties bring them forth from their own homes to dash them against someone else's doors; or those whom the praetor's auction spear occupies in acquiring disreputable gain which will one day turn rank upon them. Some men are preoccupied even in their leisure: in their country house, on their couch, in the midst of solitude, even when quite alone, they are their own worst company. You could not call theirs a life of leisure, but an idle preoccupation. Do you call that man leisured who arranges with anxious precision his Corinthian bronzes, the cost of which is inflated by the mania of a few collectors, and spends most of the day on rusty bits of metal? Who sits at a wrestling ring (for shame on us! We suffer from vices which are not even Roman), keenly following the bouts between boys? Who classifies his herds of pack-animals into pairs according to age and colour? Who pays for the maintenance of the latest athletes? Again, do you call those men leisured who spend many hours at the barber's simply to cut whatever grew overnight, to have a serious debate about every separate hair, to tidy up disarranged locks or to train thinning ones from the sides to lie over the forehead? How angry they get if the barber has been a bit careless — as if he were trimming a real man! How they flare up if any of their mane is wrongly cut off, if any of it is badly arranged, or if it doesn't all fall into the right ringlets! Which of them would not rather have his country ruffled than his hair? Which would not be more anxious about the elegance of his head than its safety? Which would not rather be trim than honourable? Do you call those men leisured who divide their time between the comb and the mirror? And what about those who busy themselves in composing, listening to, or learning songs, while they distort their voice, whose best and simplest tone nature intended to be the straight one, into the most unnatural modulations; who are always drumming with their fingers as they beat time to an imagined tune; whom you can hear humming to themselves even when they are summoned on a serious, often even sorrowful, affair? Theirs is not leisure but indolent occupation. And, good heavens, as for their banquets, I would not reckon on them as leisure times when I see how anxiously they arrange their silver, how carefully they gird up the tunics of their page-boys, how on tenterhooks they are to see how the cook has dealt with the boar, with what speed smooth-faced slaves rush around on their duties, with what skill birds are carved into appropriate portions, how carefully wretched little slaves wipe up the spittle of drunkards. By these means they cultivate a reputation for elegance and good taste, and to such an extent do their failings follow them into all areas of their private lives that they cannot eat or drink without ostentation.

I would also not count as leisured those who are carried around in a sedan chair and a litter, and turn up punctually for their drives as if it was forbidden to give them up; who have to be told when to bathe or to swim or to dine: they are so enervated by the excessive torpor of a self-indulgent mind that they cannot trust themselves to know if they are hungry. I am told that one of these self-indulgent people — if self-indulgence is the right word for unlearning the ordinary habits of human life — when he had been carried out from the bath and put in his sedan chair, asked, 'Am I now sitting down?' Do you think that this man, who doesn't know if he is sitting down, knows whether he is alive, whether he sees, whether he is at leisure? It is difficult to say whether I pity him more if he really did not know this or if he pretended not to know. They really experience forgetfulness of many things, but they also pretend to forget many things. They take delight in certain vices as proofs of their good fortune: it seems to be the lowly and contemptible man who knows what he is doing. After that see if you can accuse the mimes of inventing many details in order to attack luxury! In truth, they pass over more than they make up, and such a wealth of incredible vices have appeared in this generation, which shows talent in this one area, that we could now actually accuse the mimes of ignoring them. To think that there is anyone so lost in luxuries that he has to trust another to tell him if he is sitting down! So this one is not at leisure, and you must give him another description — he is ill, or even, he is dead: the man who is really at leisure is also aware of it. But this one who is only half alive, and needs to be told the positions of his own body — how can he have control over any of his time?

It would be tedious to mention individually those who have spent all their lives playing draughts or ball, or carefully cooking themselves in the sun. They are not at leisure whose pleasures involve a serious commitment. For example, nobody will dispute that those people are busy about nothing who spend their time on useless literary studies: even among the Romans there is now a large company of these. It used to be a Greek failing to want to know how many oarsmen Ulysses had, whether the Iliad or the Odyssey was written first, and whether too they were by the same author, and other questions of this kind, which if you keep them to yourself in no way enhance your private knowledge, and if you publish them make you appear more a bore than a scholar. But now the Romans too have been afflicted by the pointless enthusiasm for useless knowledge. Recently I heard somebody reporting which Roman general first did this or that: Duilius first won a naval battle; Curius Dentatus first included elephants in a triumph. So far these facts, even if they do not contribute to real glory, at least are concerned with exemplary services to the state: such knowledge will not do us any good, but it interests us because of the appeal of these pointless facts. We can also excuse those who investigate who first persuaded the Romans to embark on a ship. That was Claudius, who for this reason was called Caudex because a structure linking several wooden planks was called in antiquity a caudex. Hence too the Law Tables are called codices, and even today the boats which carry provisions up the Tiber are called by the old-fashioned name codicariae. Doubtless too it is of some importance to know that Valerius Corvinus first conquered Messana, and was the first of the family of the Valerii to be surnamed Messana from the name of the captured city — the spelling of which was gradually corrupted in everyday speech to Messalla. Perhaps you will also allow someone to take seriously the fact that Lucius Sulla first exhibited lions loose in the Circus, though at other times they were shown in fetters, and that javelin-throwers were sent by King Bocchus to kill them. This too may be excused — but does it serve any good purpose? — to know that Pompey first exhibited in the Circus a fight involving eighteen elephants, pitting innocent men against them in a staged battle. A leader of the state and, as we are told, a man of notable kindliness among the leaders of old, he thought it would be a memorable spectacle to kill human beings in a novel way. 'Are they to fight to the death? Not good enough. Are they to be torn to pieces? Not good enough. Let them be crushed by animals of enormous bulk.' It would be better for such things to be forgotten, lest in the future someone in power might learn about them and not wish to be outdone in such a piece of inhumanity. Oh, what darkness does great prosperity cast over our minds! He thought himself beyond nature's laws at the time that he was throwing so many crowds of wretched men to wild creatures from abroad, when he was setting such disparate creatures against each other, when he was shedding so much blood in front of the Roman people, who themselves were soon to be forced by him to shed their own blood. But later he himself, betrayed by Alexandrian treachery, offered himself to be stabbed by the lowest slave, only then realizing that his surname ('Great') was an empty boast.

But to return to the point from which I digressed, and to illustrate how some people spend useless efforts on these same topics, the man I referred to reported that Metellus in his triumph, after conquering the Carthaginians in Sicily, alone among all the Romans had 120 elephants led before his chariot, and that Sulla was the last of the Romans to have extended the pomerium,〔3〕 which it was the ancient practice to extend after acquiring Italian, but never provincial, territory. Is it better to know this than to know that the Aventine Hill, as he asserted, is outside the pomerium for one of two reasons, either because the plebs withdrew to it or because when Remus took the auspices there the birds had not been favourable — and countless further theories that are either false or very close to lies? For even if you admit that they say all this in good faith, even if they guarantee the truth of their statements, whose mistakes will thereby be lessened? Whose passions restrained? Who will be made more free, more just, more magnanimous? Our Fabianus used to say that sometimes he wondered whether it was better not to be involved in any researches than to get entangled in these.

Of all people only those are at leisure who make time for philosophy, only those are really alive. For they not only keep a good watch over their own lifetimes, but they annex every age to theirs. All the years that have passed before them are added to their own. Unless we are very ungrateful, all those distinguished founders of holy creeds were born for us and prepared for us a way of life. By the toil of others we are led into the presence of things which have been brought from darkness into light. We are excluded from no age, but we have access to them all; and if we are prepared in loftiness of mind to pass beyond the narrow confines of human weakness, there is a long period of time through which we can roam. We can argue with Socrates, express doubt with Carneades, cultivate retirement with Epicurus, overcome human nature with the Stoics, and exceed its limits with the Cynics. Since nature allows us to enter into a partnership with every age, why not turn from this brief and transient spell of time and give ourselves whole-heartedly to the past, which is limitless and eternal and can be shared with better men than we?

Those who rush about on social duties, disturbing both themselves and others, when they have duly finished their crazy round and have daily crossed everyone's threshold and passed by no open door, when they have carried around their self-interested greetings to houses that are miles apart, how few will they be able to see in a city so enormous and so distracted by varied desires? How many will there be who through sleepiness or self-indulgence or ungraciousness will exclude them? How many, after keeping them in an agony of waiting, will pretend to be in a hurry and rush past them? How many will avoid going out through a hall crowded with dependants, and escape through a secret door — as if it were not even more discourteous to deceive callers than to exclude them? How many, half asleep and sluggish after yesterday's drinking, will yawn insolently and have to be prompted a thousand times in a whisper before, scarcely moving their lips, they can greet by name the poor wretches who have broken their own slumbers in order to wait on another's?

You should rather suppose that those are involved in worthwhile duties who wish to have daily as their closest friends Zeno, Pythagoras, Democritus and all the other high priests of liberal studies, and Aristotle and Theophrastus. None of these will be too busy to see you, none of these will not send his visitor away happier and more devoted to himself, none of these will allow anyone to depart empty-handed. They are at home to all mortals by night and by day.

None of these will force you to die, but all will teach you how to die. None of them will exhaust your years, but each will contribute his years to yours. With none of these will conversation be dangerous, or his friendship fatal, or attendance on him expensive. From them you can take whatever you wish: it will not be their fault if you do not take your fill from them. What happiness, what a fine old age awaits the man who has made himself a client of these! He will have friends whose advice he can ask on the most important or the most trivial matters, whom he can consult daily about himself, who will tell him the truth without insulting him and praise him without flattery, who will offer him a pattern on which to model himself.

We are in the habit of saying that it was not in our power to choose the parents who were allotted to us, that they were given to us by chance. But we can choose whose children we would like to be. There are households of the noblest intellects: choose the one into which you wish to be adopted, and you will inherit not only their name but their property too. Nor will this property need to be guarded meanly or grudgingly: the more it is shared out, the greater it will become. These will offer you a path to immortality and raise you to a point from which no one is cast down. This is the only way to prolong mortality — even to convert it to immortality. Honours, monuments, whatever the ambitious have ordered by decrees or raised in public buildings are soon destroyed: there is nothing that the passage of time does not demolish and remove. But it cannot damage the works which philosophy has consecrated: no age will wipe them out, no age diminish them. The next and every following age will only increase the veneration for them, since envy operates on what is at hand, but we can more openly admire things from a distance. So the life of the philosopher extends widely: he is not confined by the same boundary as are others. He alone is free from the laws that limit the human race, and all ages serve him as though he were a god. Some time has passed: he grasps it in his recollection. Time is present: he uses it. Time is to come: he anticipates it. This combination of all times into one gives him a long life.

But life is very short and anxious for those who forget the past, neglect the present, and fear the future. When they come to the end of it, the poor wretches realize too late that for all this time they have been preoccupied in doing nothing. And the fact that they sometimes invoke death is no proof that their lives seem long. Their own folly afflicts them with restless emotions which hurl themselves upon the very things they fear: they often long for death because they fear it. Nor is this a proof that they are living for a long time that the day often seems long to them, or that they complain that the hours pass slowly until the time fixed for dinner arrives. For as soon as their preoccupations fail them, they are restless with nothing to do, not knowing how to dispose of their leisure or make the time pass. And so they are anxious for something else to do, and all the intervening time is wearisome: really, it is just as when a gladiatorial show has been announced, or they are looking forward to the appointed time of some other exhibition or amusement — they want to leap over the days in between. Any deferment of the longed-for event is tedious to them. Yet the time of the actual enjoyment is short and swift, and made much shorter through their own fault. For they dash from one pleasure to another and cannot stay steady in one desire. Their days are not long but odious: on the other hand, how short do the nights seem which they spend drinking or sleeping with harlots! Hence the lunacy of the poets, who encourage human frailty by their stories in which Jupiter, seduced by the pleasures of love-making, is seen to double the length of the night. What else is it but to inflame our vices when they quote the gods to endorse them, and as a precedent for our failings they offer — and excuse — the wantonness of the gods? Can the nights, which they purchase so dearly, not seem much too short to these people? They lose the day in waiting for the night, and the night in fearing the dawn.

Even their pleasures are uneasy and made anxious by various fears, and at the very height of their rejoicing the worrying thought steals over them: 'How long will this last?' This feeling has caused kings to bewail their power, and they were not so much delighted by the greatness of their fortune as terrified by the thought of its inevitable end. When that most arrogant king of Persia〔4〕 was deploying his army over vast plains, and could not number it but had to measure it, he wept because in a hundred years out of that huge army not a soul would be alive. But he who was weeping was the very man who would bring their fate upon them, and would destroy some on the sea, some on land, some in battle, some in flight, and in a very short time would wipe out all those for whose hundredth year he was afraid.

And what of the fact that even their joys are uneasy? The reason is that they are not based on firm causes, but they are agitated as groundlessly as they arise. But what kind of times can those be, do you think, which they themselves admit are wretched, since even the joys by which they are exalted and raised above humanity are pretty corrupt? All the greatest blessings create anxiety, and Fortune is never less to be trusted than when it is fairest. To preserve prosperity we need other prosperity, and to support the prayers which have turned out well we have to make other prayers. Whatever comes our way by chance is unsteady, and the higher it rises the more liable it is to fall. Furthermore, what is doomed to fall delights no one. So it is inevitable that life will be not just very short but very miserable for those who acquire by great toil what they must keep by greater toil. They achieve what they want laboriously; they possess what they have achieved anxiously; and meanwhile they take no account of time that will never more return. New preoccupations take the place of the old, hope excites more hope and ambition more ambition. They do not look for an end to their misery, but simply change the reason for it. We have found our own public honours a torment, and we spend more time on someone else's. We have stopped labouring as candidates, and we start canvassing for others. We have given up the troubles of a prosecutor, and taken on those of a judge. A man stops being a judge and becomes president of a court. He has grown old in the job of managing the property of others for a salary, and then spends all his time looking after his own. Marius was released from army life to become busy in the consulship. Quintius hastens to get through his dictatorship, but he will be summoned back to it from the plough. Scipio will go against the Carthaginians before he is experienced enough for such an undertaking. Victorious over Hannibal, victorious over Antiochus, distinguished in his own consulship and a surety for his brother's, if he had not himself forbidden it he would have been set up beside Jupiter. But discord in the state will harass its saviour, and after as a young man he has scorned honours fit for the gods, at length when old he will take delight in an ostentatiously stubborn exile. There will always be causes for anxiety, whether due to prosperity or to wretchedness. Life will be driven on through a succession of preoccupations: we shall always long for leisure, but never enjoy it.

And so, my dear Paulinus, extract yourself from the crowd, and as you have been storm-tossed more than your age deserves, you must at last retire into a peaceful harbour. Consider how many waves you have encountered, how many storms — some of which you have sustained in private life and some you have brought upon yourself in public life. Your virtue has for long enough been shown, when you were a model of active industry: try how it will manage in leisure. The greater part of your life, certainly the better part, has been devoted to the state: take some of your own time for yourself too. I am not inviting you to idle or purposeless sloth, or to drown all your natural energy in sleep and the pleasures that are dear to the masses. That is not to have repose. When you are retired and enjoying peace of mind, you will find to keep you busy more important activities than all those you have performed so energetically up to now. Indeed, you are managing the accounts of the world as scrupulously as you would another person's, as carefully as your own, as conscientiously as the state's. You are winning affection in a job in which it is hard to avoid ill-will; but believe me it is better to understand the balance-sheet of one's own life than of the corn trade. You must recall that vigorous mind of yours, supremely capable of dealing with the greatest responsibilities, from a task which is certainly honourable but scarcely suited to the happy life; and you must consider that all your youthful training in the liberal studies was not directed to this end, that many thousands of measures of corn might safely be entrusted to you. You had promised higher and greater things of yourself. There will not be wanting men who are completely worthy and hard-working. Stolid pack-animals are much more fit for carrying loads than thoroughbred horses: who ever subdued their noble speed with a heavy burden? Consider too how much anxiety you have in submitting yourself to such a weight of responsibility: you are dealing with the human belly. A hungry people neither listens to reason nor is mollified by fair treatment or swayed by any appeals. Quite recently, within a few days after Gaius Caesar died — still feeling very upset (if the dead have feelings) because he saw that the Roman people were still surviving, with a supply of food for seven or at most eight days, while he was building bridges with boats and playing with the resources of the empire — we faced the worst of all afflictions, even to those under siege, a shortage of provisions. His imitation of a mad foreign king doomed in his pride, nearly cost the city destruction and famine and the universal collapse that follows famine. What then must those have felt who had charge of the corn supply, when they were threatened with stones, weapons, fire — and Gaius? With a huge pretence they managed to conceal the great evil lurking in the vitals of the state — and assuredly they had good reason. For certain ailments must be treated while the patient is unaware of them: knowing about their disease has caused the death of many.

You must retire to these pursuits which are quieter, safer and more important. Do you think it is the same thing whether you are overseeing the transfer of corn into granaries, unspoilt by the dishonesty and carelessness of the shippers, and taking care that it does not get damp and then ruined through heat, and that it tallies in measure and weight; or whether you take up these sacred and lofty studies, from which you will learn the substance of god, and his will, his mode of life, his shape; what fate awaits your soul; where nature lays us to rest when released from our bodies; what is the force which supports all the heaviest elements of this world at the centre, suspends the light elements above, carries fire to the highest part, and sets the stars in motion with their proper changes — and learn other things in succession which are full of tremendous marvels? You really should leave the ground and turn your thoughts to these studies. Now while the blood is hot you should make your way with vigour to better things. In this kind of life you will find much that is worth your study: the love and practice of the virtues, forgetfulness of the passions, the knowledge of how to live and die, and a life of deep tranquillity.

Indeed the state of all who are preoccupied is wretched, but the most wretched are those who are toiling not even at their own preoccupations, but must regulate their sleep by another's, and their walk by another's pace, and obey orders in those freest of all things, loving and hating. If such people want to know how short their lives are, let them reflect how small a portion is their own.

So, when you see a man repeatedly wearing the robe of office, or one whose name is often spoken in the Forum, do not envy him: these things are won at the cost of life. In order that one year may be dated from their names they will waste all their own years. Life has left some men struggling at the start of their careers before they could force their way to the height of their ambition. Some men, after they have crawled through a thousand indignities to the supreme dignity, have been assailed by the gloomy thought that all their labours were but for the sake of an epitaph. Some try to adjust their extreme old age to new hopes as though it were youth, but find its weakness fails them in the midst of efforts that overtax it. It is a shameful sight when an elderly man runs out of breath while he is pleading in court for litigants who are total strangers to him, and trying to win the applause of the ignorant bystanders. It is disgraceful to see a man collapsing in the middle of his duties, worn out more by his life-style than by his labours. Disgraceful too is it when a man dies in the midst of going through his accounts, and his heir, long kept waiting, smiles in relief. I cannot resist telling you of an instance that occurs to me. Sextus Turannius was an old man known to be scrupulous and diligent, who, when he was ninety, at his own request was given retirement from his office by Gaius Caesar. He then ordered himself to be laid out on his bed and lamented by the assembled household as though he were dead. The house bewailed its old master's leisure, and did not cease its mourning until his former job was restored to him. Is it really so pleasant to die in harness? That is the feeling of many people: their desire for their work outlasts their ability to do it. They fight against their own bodily weakness, and they regard old age as a hardship on no other grounds than that it puts them on the shelf. The law does not make a man a soldier after fifty or a senator after sixty: men find it more difficult to gain leisure from themselves than from the law. Meanwhile, as they rob and are robbed, as they disturb each other's peace, as they make each other miserable, their lives pass without satisfaction, without pleasure, without mental improvement. No one keeps death in view, no one refrains from hopes that look far ahead; indeed, some people even arrange things that are beyond life — massive tombs, dedications of public buildings, shows for their funerals, and ostentatious burials. But in truth, such people's funerals should be conducted with torches and wax tapers, as though they had lived the shortest of lives.

注释

〔1〕 A friend of Seneca's.

〔2〕 Hippocrates.

〔3〕 The religious boundary of a city.

〔4〕 Xerxes.

Consolation to Helvia

Dearest mother, I have often had the urge to console you and often restrained it. Many things encouraged me to venture to do so. First, I thought I would be laying aside all my troubles when I had at least wiped away your tears, even if I could not stop them coming. Then, I did not doubt that I would have more power to raise you up if I had first risen myself. Moreover, I was afraid that though Fortune was conquered by me she might conquer someone close to me. So, staunching my own cut with my hand I was doing my best to crawl forward to bind up your wounds. There were, on the other hand, considerations which delayed my purpose. I realized that your grief should not be intruded upon while it was fresh and agonizing, in case the consolations themselves should rouse and inflame it: for an illness too nothing is more harmful than premature treatment. So I was waiting until your grief of itself should lose its force and, being softened by time to endure remedies, it would allow itself to be touched and handled. Moreover, although I consulted all the works written by the most famous authors to control and moderate grief, I couldn't find any example of someone who had comforted his own dear ones when he himself was the subject of their grief. So in this unprecedented situation I hesitated, fearing that I would be offering not consolation but further irritation. Consider, too, that a man lifting his head from the very funeral pyre must need some novel vocabulary not drawn from ordinary everyday condolence to comfort his own dear ones. But every great and overpowering grief must take away the capacity to choose words, since it often stifles the voice itself. Anyway, I'll try my best, not trusting in my cleverness, but because being myself the comforter I can thereby be the most effective comfort. As you never refused me anything I hope you will not refuse me this at least (though all grief is stubborn), to be willing that I should set a limit to your desolation.

Consider how much I have promised myself from your indulgence. I don't doubt that I shall have more influence over you than your grief, than which nothing has more influence over the wretched. So in order not to join battle with it at once, I'll first support it and offer it a lot of encouragement: I shall expose and reopen all the wounds which have already healed. Someone will object: 'What kind of consolation is this, to bring back forgotten ills and to set the mind in view of all its sorrows when it can scarcely endure one?' But let him consider that those disorders which are so dangerous that they have gained ground in spite of treatment can generally be treated by opposite methods. Therefore I shall offer to the mind all its sorrows, all its mourning garments: this will not be a gentle prescription for healing, but cautery and the knife. What shall I achieve? That a soul which has conquered so many miseries will be ashamed to worry about one more wound in a body which already has so many scars. So let those people go on weeping and wailing whose self-indulgent minds have been weakened by long prosperity, let them collapse at the threat of the most trivial injuries; but let those who have spent all their years suffering disasters endure the worst afflictions with a brave and resolute staunchness. Everlasting misfortune does have one blessing, that it ends up by toughening those whom it constantly afflicts.

Fortune has given you no respite from the most woeful sorrows, not even excepting the day of your birth. As soon as you were born, no, even while being born, you lost your mother, and on the threshold of life you were in a sense exposed. You grew up under the care of a stepmother, and you actually forced her to become a real mother by showing her all the deference and devotion which can be seen even in a daughter. Yet even having a good stepmother costs every child a good deal. You lost your uncle, kindest, best and bravest of men, when you were awaiting his arrival; and lest Fortune should lessen her cruelty by dividing it, within a month you buried your dearest husband by whom you had three children. This sorrow was announced to you when you were already grieving, and when indeed all your children were away, as if your misfortunes were concentrated on purpose into that time so that your grief would have nowhere to turn for relief. I pass over all the dangers, all the fears you endured as they assailed you unceasingly. But recently into the same lap from which you had let go three grandchildren you received back the bones of three grandchildren. Within twenty days of burying my son, who died as you held and kissed him, you heard that I had been taken away. This only you had lacked — to grieve for the living.

Of all the wounds which have ever pierced your body this last one is, I admit, the worst. It has not simply broken the skin but cut into your breast and vital parts. But just as recruits, even when superficially wounded, cry aloud and dread being handled by doctors more than the sword, while veterans, even if severely wounded, patiently and without a groan allow their wounds to be cleaned as though their bodies did not belong to them; so you must now offer yourself bravely for treatment. Come, put away wailings and lamentations and all the other usual noisy manifestations of feminine grief. For all your sorrows have been wasted on you if you have not yet learned how to be wretched. Do I seem to have dealt boldly with you? I have kept away not one of your misfortunes from you, but piled them all up in front of you.

I have done this courageously for I decided to conquer your grief, not to cheat it. But I shall do this, I think, first of all if I show that I am suffering nothing for which I could be called wretched, let alone make my relations wretched; then if I turn to you and show that your fortune, which is wholly dependent on mine, is also not painful.

First I shall deal with the fact, which your love is longing to hear, that I am suffering no affliction. I shall make it clear, if I can, that those very circumstances which you think are crushing me can be borne; but if you cannot believe that, at least I shall be more pleased with myself for being happy in conditions which normally make men wretched. There is no need to believe others about me: I am telling you firmly that I am not wretched, so that you won't be agitated by uncertainty. To reassure you further, I shall add that I cannot even be made wretched.

We are born under circumstances that would be favourable if we did not abandon them. It was nature's intention that there should be no need of great equipment for a good life: every individual can make himself happy. External goods are of trivial importance and without much influence in either direction: prosperity does not elevate the sage and adversity does not depress him. For he has always made the effort to rely as much as possible on himself and to derive all delight from himself. So what? Am I calling myself a sage? Certainly not. For if I could claim that, not only would I be denying that I was wretched but I would be asserting that I was the most fortunate of all men and coming close to god. As it is, doing what is sufficient to alleviate all wretchedness, I have surrendered myself to wise men, and as I am not yet strong enough to help myself I have gone over to another camp — I mean those who can easily protect themselves and their followers. They have ordered me to take a firm stand, like a sentry on guard, and to foresee all the attacks and all the onslaughts of Fortune long before they hit me. She falls heavily on those to whom she is unexpected; the man who is always expecting her easily withstands her. For an enemy's arrival too scatters those whom it catches off guard; but those who have prepared in advance for the coming conflict, being properly drawn up and equipped, easily withstand the first onslaught, which is the most violent. Never have I trusted Fortune, even when she seemed to offer peace. All those blessings which she kindly bestowed on me — money, public office, influence — I relegated to a place whence she could claim them back without bothering me. I kept a wide gap between them and me, with the result that she has taken them away, not torn them away. No man has been shattered by the blows of Fortune unless he was first deceived by her favours. Those who loved her gifts as if they were their own for ever, who wanted to be admired on account of them, are laid low and grieve when the false and transient pleasures desert their vain and childish minds, ignorant of every stable pleasure. But the man who is not puffed up in good times does not collapse either when they change. His fortitude is already tested and he maintains a mind unconquered in the face of either condition: for in the midst of prosperity he has tried his own strength against adversity. So I have never believed that there was any genuine good in the things which everyone prays for; what is more, I have found them empty and daubed with showy and deceptive colours, with nothing inside to match their appearance. And now in these so-called evils I find nothing so terrible and harsh as the general opinion threatened. Certainly the word 'exile' itself now enters the ears more harshly through a sort of conviction and popular belief, and strikes the listener as something gloomy and detestable. For that is the people's verdict, but wise men on the whole reject the people's decrees.

So, putting aside this judgement of the majority who are carried away by the surface appearance of things, whatever the grounds for believing in it, let us examine the reality of exile. Clearly a change of place. I must not seem to restrict its force and remove its worst feature, so I agree that this change of place brings with it the disadvantages of poverty, disgrace and contempt. I shall deal with these later; meanwhile I wish first to examine what distress the change of place itself involves.

'It is unbearable to be deprived of your country.' Come now, look at this mass of people whom the buildings of huge Rome can scarcely hold: most of that crowd are deprived of their country. They have flocked together from their towns and colonies, in fact from the whole world, some brought by ambition, some by the obligation of public office, some by the duties of an envoy, some by self-indulgence seeking a place conveniently rich in vice, some by a love of liberal studies, some by the public shows; some have been attracted by friendship, some by their own energy which has found a wide field for displaying its qualities; some have come to sell their beauty, others their eloquence. Absolutely every type of person has hastened into the city which offers high rewards for both virtues and vices. Take a roll-call of all of them and ask each where he comes from: you will see that most of them have left their own homes and come to a very great and beautiful city, but not their own. Then move away from this city, which in a way can be said to belong to all, and go around all the others: in every one a large proportion of the population is immigrant. Pass on from those whose lovely and convenient position attracts large numbers, and review deserted places and rocky islands, Sciathus and Seriphus, Gyara and Cossura: you will find no place of exile where somebody does not linger because he wants to. What could be found so bare and with such a steep drop on every side as this rock? What more barren regarding its resources? What more savage regarding its people? What more rugged regarding its geography? What more intemperate regarding its climate? Yet more foreigners than natives live here. Thus, so far is change of locality itself from being a hardship that even this place has enticed some people from their homeland. I've come across people who say that there is a sort of inborn restlessness in the human spirit and an urge to change one's abode; for man is endowed with a mind which is changeable and unsettled: nowhere at rest, it darts about and directs its thoughts to all places known and unknown, a wanderer which cannot endure repose and delights chiefly in novelty. This will not surprise you if you consider its original source. It was not made from heavy, earthly material, but came down from that heavenly spirit: but heavenly things are by nature always in motion, fleeing and driven on extremely fast. Look at the planets which light up the world: not one is at rest. The sun glides constantly, moving on from place to place, and although it revolves with the universe its motion is nevertheless opposite to that of the firmament itself: it races through all the signs of the zodiac and never stops; its motion is everlasting as it journeys from one point to another. All the planets forever move round and pass by: as the constraining law of nature has ordained they are borne from point of point. When through fixed periods of years they have completed their courses they will start again upon their former circuits. How silly then to imagine that the human mind, which is formed of the same elements as divine beings, objects to movement and change of abode, while the divine nature finds delight and even self-preservation in continual and very rapid change.

Well, now, turn your attention from heavenly to human matters and you will see that whole nations and peoples have changed their abode. What are Greek cities doing in the midst of barbarian territories? Why do we hear the Macedonian language among Indians and Persians? Scythia and all that wide region of fierce and untamed tribes reveal Achaean cities established on the shores of the Pontus. People were not put off from migrating there by the endlessly severe winter or the savage character of the natives which matched their climate. There is a crowd of Athenians in Asia; Miletus has sent out all over the place enough people to colonize seventy-five cities; the whole of the Italian coast which is washed by the lower sea was once Greater Greece. Asia claims the Etruscans as her own; Tyrians live in Africa, Phoenicians in Spain; Greeks penetrated into Gaul and Gauls into Greece; the Pyrenees did not block the passage of the Germans — through trackless, through unknown territory has ventured the restlessness of men, and behind them came their wives and children and parents stricken in years. Some of them, driven about in their long wanderings, did not choose their goal deliberately, but through weariness settled at the nearest place; others by force of arms established their right in a foreign country. Some tribes were drowned while they sought unknown regions; others settled where they were stranded by running out of supplies. They did not all have the same reason for abandoning one homeland for another. Some, escaping the destruction of their cities by enemy attack, were driven to other territory when they lost their own; some were banished by civil strife; others were sent out to relieve the burden of overpopulation; others fled from disease or constant earthquakes or some intolerable deficiencies in their barren soil; others were tempted by the exaggerated report of a fertile shore. Different reasons roused different peoples to leave their homes; but this at least is clear, nothing has stayed where it was born. The human race is always on the move: in so large a world there is every day some change — new cities are founded, and new names of nations are born as former ones disappear or are absorbed into a stronger one. But what else are all these national migrations than banishments of a people? Why should I drag you through the whole cycle? Why bother to mention Antenor who founded Patavium, and Evander who settled the Arcadian kingdom on the banks of the Tiber? What about Diomedes and the others, both conquerors and conquered, who were scattered over alien lands by the Trojan War? Why, the Roman empire itself looks back to an exile as its founder, a man who was driven out when his homeland was captured and, taking a few survivors, was forced by fear of the victor to make a long journey which brought him to Italy. What a number of colonies this people in turn has sent out to every province! — wherever the Romans have conquered they dwell. People volunteered for this kind of emigration, and even old men leaving their altars followed the settlers overseas. The point does not need any more illustration, but I will just add one which hits you in the eye: this island itself has often changed its inhabitants. To leave aside earlier events which are obscured by antiquity, the Greeks who now live in Massilia after leaving Phocis first settled in this island. It is not clear what drove them from it, whether the harsh climate, or being in sight of the superior power of Italy, or the lack of harbours. For clearly the reason was not the savagery of the inhabitants, since they settled among what were then the fiercest and most uncivilized peoples in Gaul. Subsequently the Ligurians crossed over to the island, and the Spaniards too, as is clear from the similarity of their customs: for the Corsicans wear the same kind of head-covering and shoes as the Cantabrians, and some of their words are the same — only some, for their language as a whole, through association with Greeks and Ligurians, has lost its native elements. Next, two colonies of Roman citizens were brought there, one by Marius and one by Sulla: so often has the population of this barren and thorny rock changed! In a word, you will hardly find a single country still inhabited by its original natives: everywhere the people are of mixed and imported stock. One group has followed another: one longed for what another scorned; one was driven out from where he had expelled others. So fate has decreed that nothing maintains the same condition forever.

To compensate for the actual change of place and forgetting about the other inconveniences attached to exile, Varro, most learned of Romans, considers we have this sufficient remedy, that wherever we come we have the same order of nature to deal with. Marcus Brutus thinks this is enough, that exiles can carry with them their own virtues. Even if anyone thinks that these points taken separately are insufficient to console the exile, he will admit that in combination they carry great weight. For how little have we lost, when the two finest things of all will accompany us wherever we go, universal nature and our individual virtue. Believe me, this was the intention of whoever formed the universe, whether all-powerful god, or incorporeal reason creating mighty works, or divine spirit penetrating all things from greatest to smallest with even pressure, or fate and the unchanging sequence of causation — this, I say, was the intention, that only the most worthless of our possessions should come into the power of another. Whatever is best for a human being lies outside human control: it can be neither given nor taken away. The world you see, nature's greatest and most glorious creation, and the human mind which gazes and wonders at it, and is the most splendid part of it, these are our own everlasting possessions and will remain with us as long as we ourselves remain. So, eager and upright, let us hasten with bold steps wherever circumstances take us, and let us journey through any countries whatever: there can be no place of exile within the world since nothing within the world is alien to men. From whatever point on the earth's surface you look up to heaven the same distance lies between the realms of gods and men. Accordingly, provided my eyes are not withdrawn from that spectacle, of which they never tire; provided I may look upon the sun and the moon and gaze at the other planets; provided I may trace their risings and settings, their periods and the causes of their travelling faster or slower; provided I may behold all the stars that shine at night — some fixed, others not travelling far afield but circling within the same area; some suddenly shooting forth, and others dazzling the eye with scattered fire, as if they are falling, or gliding past with a long trail of blazing light; provided I can commune with these and, so far as humans may, associate with the divine, and provided I can keep my mind always directed upwards, striving for a vision of kindred things — what does it matter what ground I stand on?

'But this country is not fertile in lush or fruitful trees; no large and navigable rivers irrigate it with their channels; it produces nothing which other nations want, being scarcely fertile enough to support its own inhabitants. No valuable marble is quarried here, no veins of gold and silver are mined.' Petty is the mind which delights in earthly things: it should be led away to those things which appear everywhere equally, everywhere equally lustrous. There is this too to consider, that earthly things stand in the way of genuine goods through a wayward belief in false goods. The longer people extend their colonnades, the higher they build their towers, the wider they stretch their walks, the deeper they dig their summer grottoes, the more massively they raise the roofs of their dining-halls, so much the more will there be to cut off the sight of heaven. Fate has cast you into a land where the most luxurious shelter is a hut. Truly you have a petty spirit which meanly comforts itself, if you put up with this bravely because you know about the hut of Romulus. Say rather 'This humble shack gives shelter, I suppose, to the virtues. Soon it will be more elegant than any temple when justice is seen to be there, and temperance, wisdom, piety, a system for the right allotment of all duties, and the knowledge of man and god. No place is narrow which can hold this assembly of such great virtues; no exile is burdensome when you can have this company with you.'

In his treatise 'On Virtue' Brutus says that he saw Marcellus in exile at Mytilene, living as happily as human nature allows, and never more keen on liberal studies than at that time. And so he adds that when he was about to return without Marcellus, he himself seemed to be going into exile rather than leaving the other in exile. How much more fortunate was Marcellus at that time when he won the favour of Brutus for his exile than when he won the favour of the state for his consulship! What a man that was who caused someone to feel himself an exile because he was leaving an exile behind! What a man he was to have won the admiration of a man whom even his kinsman Cato had to admire! Brutus also says that Gaius Caesar had sailed past Mytilene because he could not bear the sight of a great man in disgrace. Indeed, the senate obtained his recall by public petition: they were so anxious and sorrowful that they all seemed to share Brutus' feelings on that day, and to be pleading not for Marcellus but for themselves, in case they would be exiled if deprived of him. But he achieved much more on that day when Brutus could not bear to leave, nor Caesar to see, him in exile. For both gave him testimony: Brutus grieved to return without Marcellus, and Caesar blushed. Can you doubt that Marcellus, being the great man he was, often encouraged himself thus to endure his exile with equanimity? 'Being without your country is not misery: you have thoroughly taught yourself by your studies to know that to a wise man every place is his country. Besides, was not the man who caused your exile himself absent from his country for ten consecutive years? No doubt the reason was to enlarge his domains — yet he certainly was absent. See, now he is summoned to Africa which is full of threats of further war; to Spain which is reviving its forces shattered by defeat; to treacherous Egypt — in short to the whole world which is watchful for an opportunity against the stricken empire. Which problem shall he face first? To which quarter take his stand? His own victorious course will drive him throughout the world. Let the nations honour and worship him; live yourself content with Brutus as your admirer.'

Well did Marcellus, then, endure his exile, nor did his change of abode cause any change at all in his mind though poverty attended it. But there is no evil in poverty, as anyone knows who has not yet arrived at the lunatic state of greed and luxury, which ruin everything. For how little is needed to support a man! And who can lack this if he has any virtue at all? As far as I am concerned, I know that I have lost not wealth but distractions. The body's needs are few: it wants to be free from cold, to banish hunger and thirst with nourishment; if we long for anything more we are exerting ourselves to serve our vices, not our needs. We do not need to scour every ocean, or to load our bellies with the slaughter of animals, or to pluck shellfish from the unknown shores of the furthest sea. May gods and goddesses destroy those whose luxury passes the bounds of an empire that already awakens envy. They seek to stock their pretentious kitchens by hunting beyond the Phasis, and they aren't ashamed to ask for birds from the Parthians, from whom we have not yet exacted vengeance. From all sides they collect everything familiar to a fastidious glutton. From the furthest sea is brought food which their stomachs, weakened by a voluptuous diet, can scarcely receive. They vomit in order to eat, and eat in order to vomit, and banquets for which they ransack the whole world they do not even deign to digest. If someone despises all that, what harm can poverty do him? If he longs for it, poverty even does him good: for against his will he is being cured, and if even under compulsion he does not take his medicine, for a time at least his inability to have those things looks like unwillingness. Gaius Caesar, whom I think nature produced as an example of the effect of supreme wickedness in a supreme position, dined in one day at a cost of ten million sesterces; and though helped in this by everyone's ingenuity he could scarcely discover how to spend the tribute from three provinces on one dinner. Poor wretches, whose appetite is only tempted by expensive foods! Yet it is not an exquisite taste or some delightful effect on the palate that makes them expensive, but their scarcity and the difficulty of procuring them. Otherwise, if these people would agree to return to good sense, where is the need for all these skills that serve the belly? What need for importing, or laying waste the woodlands, or ransacking the ocean? All around food lies ready which nature has distributed in every place; but men pass it by as though blind to it, and they scour every country, they cross the seas, and they whet their appetite at great expense when at little cost they could satisfy it. I want to say to them: 'Why do you launch your ships? Why do you arm your bands against both beasts and men? Why do you tear around in such a panic? Why do you pile wealth upon wealth? You really must consider how small your bodies are. Is it not madness and the worst form of derangement to want so much though you can hold so little? Therefore, though you may increase your income and extend your estates, you will never increase the capacity of your bodies. Though your business may do well and warfare bring you profit, though you hunt down and gather your food from every side, you will not have anywhere to store your supplies. Why do you seek out so many things? To be sure, our ancestors were unhappy, whose virtue even now props up our vices, who procured their food with their own hands, who slept on the ground, whose dwellings did not yet glitter with gold nor their temples with precious stones — and so in those days they swore solemn oaths by gods of clay and, having invoked them, returned to the enemy to certain death rather than break their word. To be sure, our dictator who gave audience to the Samnite envoys while with his own hand he cooked the simplest sort of food (the hand which already had frequently smitten the enemy and placed a laurel wreath on the lap of Capitoline Jupiter) — he lived less happily than Apicius in our time, who in the city from which philosophers were once banished as corrupters of the youth, polluted the age by his teaching as professor of cookery.' It is worth hearing what happened to him. When he had spent a hundred million sesterces in his kitchen, when he had drunk up at every one of his carousals all those imperial gifts and the enormous revenue of the Capitol, then for the first time he was forced by the weight of his debts to look into his accounts. He reckoned he would have ten million sesterces left, and that living on ten million would be starvation: so he poisoned himself. What luxury, if ten million meant poverty! How then can you think that it is the amount of money that matters and not the attitude of mind? Someone dreaded having ten million, and what others pray for he escaped by poison. But indeed for a man of such perverted mentality that last drink was the best thing for him. It was when he was not merely enjoying but boasting of his huge banquets, when he was making a display of his vices, when he was drawing public attention to his vulgar displays, when he was tempting young people to imitate him (who even without bad examples are naturally impressionable) — then it was that he was really eating and drinking poisons. Such is the fate of those who measure wealth not by the standard of reason, whose limits are fixed, but by that of a vicious life-style governed by boundless, uncontrollable caprice. Nothing satisfies greed, but even a little satisfies nature. So an exile's poverty brings no hardship; for no place of exile is so barren that it cannot abundantly support a man.

'But,' says someone, 'the exile is going to miss his clothes and home.' These too he will miss only as far as he needs them — and he will lack neither house nor covering; for the body needs as little for protection as for food. Nature has not made any of man's essentials laborious as well. But he must have richly dyed purple clothes, woven with gold thread and decorated with multicoloured patterns: it is his fault, not nature's, if he feels poor. Even if you give him back all he has lost, you'll be wasting your time; for once he is back from exile he will feel a greater lack compared with his desires than he felt as an exile compared with his former possessions. But he must have furniture gleaming with gold vessels and antique silver plate wrought by famous artists, bronze made valuable because a few lunatics want it, a crowd of slaves which would throng a house however large, beasts of burden with bodies bloated with force-feeding, marbles from every land: though he piles all these up, they will never sate his insatiable soul; just as no amount of fluid will satisfy one whose craving arises not from lack of water but from burning internal fever: for that is not a thirst but a disease. Nor is this true only of money or food: the same feature is found in every desire which arises not from a lack but from a vice. However much you heap up for it will not mark the end of greed, only a stage in it. So the man who restrains himself within the bounds set by nature will not notice poverty; the man who exceeds these bounds will be pursued by poverty however rich he is. Life's necessities are found even in places of exile, superfluities not even in kingdoms. It is the mind that creates our wealth, and this goes with us into exile, and in the harshest desert places it finds sufficient to nourish the body and revels in the enjoyment of its own goods. Money in no way concerns the mind any more than it concerns the gods. All those things which are revered by minds untaught and enslaved to their bodies — marble, gold, silver, great round polished tables — are earthly burdens which a soul pure and conscious of its nature cannot love: for it is light and unencumbered, and destined to soar aloft whenever it is released from the body. Meanwhile, so far as it is not hampered by our limbs and this heavy burden that envelops us, it surveys things divine with swift and winged thought. So the soul can never suffer exile, being free and akin to the gods and equal to all the universe and all time. For its thought encompasses the whole of heaven, and journeys into all past and future time. This wretched body, the chain and prison of the soul, is tossed hither and thither; upon it punishment and pillage and disease wreak havoc: but the soul itself is holy and eternal, and it cannot be assailed with violence.

In case you think I am simply using the teaching of philosophers to make light of the trials of poverty, which no one feels to be a burden unless he thinks it that, first consider that by far the greater proportion of men are poor, but you will not see them looking at all more gloomy and anxious than the rich. In fact, I rather suspect that they are happier in proportion as their minds have less to harry them. Let us pass on to the rich: how frequently are they just like the poor! When they travel abroad their luggage is restricted, and whenever they are forced to hasten their journey they dismiss their retinue of attendants. When they are serving in the army, how little of their belongings do they keep with them, since camp discipline forbids any luxury! Nor is it only special conditions of time and place which put them on a level with the poor in their needs: when on occasion they get tired of their riches they choose certain days on which they dine on the ground and, putting aside their gold and silver vessels, use earthenware ones. What lunatics, to covet sometimes a condition they always dread! What mental darkness, what ignorance of the truth blinds those who, though afflicted by the fear of poverty, yet take pleasure in imitating it! For my part, whenever I look back at the fine examples of antiquity, I am ashamed to find consolations for poverty, since the luxury of the times has reached the point where an exile's allowance is more than the inheritance of leading men of old. We all know that Homer had one slave, Plato had three, and Zeno, the founder of the strict and manly Stoic philosophy, had none. Will anyone on that account say that they lived wretchedly without himself seeming to all by his words to be utterly wretched? Menenius Agrippa, who kept the public peace by acting as mediator between patricians and plebeians, was buried by public subscription. Atilius Regulus, while he was routing the Carthaginians in Africa, wrote to tell the senate that his hired worker had gone off and abandoned his farm: the senate voted that during Regulus' absence the farm should be managed by the state. Was it not worth being without a slave so that the Roman people might become his tenant? Scipio's daughters received a dowry from the state treasury because their father had left them nothing: assuredly it was right for the Roman people to offer tribute to Scipio once, since he was always exacting it from Carthage. Happy were the girls' husbands whose father-in-law was the Roman people! Do you think those whose pantomime actresses marry with a dowry of a million sesterces are happier than Scipio, whose children had the senate for their guardian and received solid copper money as a dowry? Could anyone despise poverty with a pedigree so distinguished? Could an exile resent lacking anything, when Scipio lacked a dowry, Regulus a hired worker, Menenius a funeral: when for all of them supplying their need was all the more honourable simply because they had the need? And so, with these men pleading her cause poverty wins not only acquittal but high esteem.

One might reply, 'Why do you make an artificial separation of those things which can be borne separately but not in combination? You can put up with a change of place if only the place is changed. You can put up with poverty if there is no disgrace, which even alone usually crushes the spirit.' In answer to this man who aims to frighten me by an accumulation of ills, this must be said: 'If you have the strength to tackle any one aspect of misfortune you can tackle all. When once virtue has toughened the mind it renders it invulnerable on every side. If greed, the most overmastering plague of the human race, has relaxed its grip, ambition will not stand in your way. If you regard your last day not as a punishment but as a law of nature, the breast from which you have banished the dread of death no fear will dare to enter. If you consider that sexual desire was given to man not for enjoyment but for the propagation of the race, once you are free of this violent and destructive passion rooted in your vitals, every other desire will leave you undisturbed. Reason routs the vices not one by one but all together: the victory is final and complete.' Do you think that any wise man can be affected by disgrace, one who relies entirely on himself and holds aloof from common beliefs? A disgraceful death is worse than disgrace: yet Socrates went to prison with the same expression he wore when he once snubbed the Thirty Tyrants — and his presence robbed even prison of disgrace, for where Socrates was could not seem a prison. Who is so blind to the truth that he thinks it was a disgrace to Marcus Cato that he was twice defeated in his bid for the praetorship and consulship? The disgrace belonged to the praetorship and consulship which were being honoured by Cato. No man is despised by another unless he is first despised by himself. An abject and debased mind is susceptible to such insult; but if a man stirs himself to face the worst of disasters and defeats the evils which overwhelm others, then he wears those very sorrows like a sacred badge. For we are naturally disposed to admire more than anything else the man who shows fortitude in adversity. When Aristides was being led to execution at Athens, everyone who met him cast down his eyes and groaned, as though it was not merely a just man but Justice herself who was being punished. Yet one man actually spat in his face. He could have resented this because he knew that only a foul-mouthed man would dare to do it. Instead he wiped his face, and with a smile he said to the magistrate escorting him: 'Warn that fellow not to give such a vulgar yawn another time.' This was to retaliate insult upon insult. I know some people say that nothing is worse than scorn and that even death seems preferable. To these I shall reply that exile too is often free from any kind of scorn. If a great man falls and remains great as he lies, people no more despise him than they stamp on a fallen temple, which the devout still worship as much as when it was standing.

Dearest mother, since you have no cause on my account to drive you to endless tears it follows that reasons regarding yourself are urging you to weep. Well, there are two: you are bothered either because you seem to have lost some protection, or because you cannot endure the very thought of doing without me.

The first point I must touch upon only slightly, for I know that your heart loves your dear ones for themselves alone. Let those mothers reflect on this who exploit their children's influence with a woman's lack of influence; who, because women cannot hold office, seek power through their sons; who both drain their sons' inheritances and try to get them; who exhaust their sons by lending their eloquence to others. Whereas you have taken the greatest pleasure in your sons' gifts and made the least use of them; you have always set a limit to our generosity without limiting your own; while your father was still alive you actually gave gifts to your wealthy sons; you administered our inheritances as though you were earnestly looking after your own and being scrupulously provident with another's; you were cautious in using our influence, as if it were someone else's, and in our spells in office you had no part except your pleasure and the expenses. Your love never had regard for self-interest: therefore, now that your son has been taken from you, you cannot feel the lack of those things which you never thought concerned you when he was safe and sound.

I must direct my consolation entirely to that point from which arises the true force of a mother's grief. You say, 'So I am deprived of my dearest son's embrace; I can't enjoy seeing him or talking to him. Where is he whose appearance smoothed my troubled brow, to whom I confided all my woes? Where are our conversations of which I never tired? Where are his studies which I shared with more than a feminine eagerness and more than a mother's intimacy? Where are our meetings? Where is the unfailing boyish glee at the sight of his mother?' To all this you add the actual places where we rejoiced together and socialized, and the reminders of our recent life together which are inevitably the most acute source of mental anguish. For Fortune plotted even this cruel blow against you, that only two days before I was struck down she contrived that you should depart tranquil in mind and fearing no such disaster. It was well that we had lived far apart, and that an absence of some years had prepared you for this blow. By returning you did not gain the pleasure of your son's presence, but you lost the habit of bearing his absence. If you had been away long before you would have borne the loss more bravely, as the very distance between us would have softened the longing. If you had not gone away you would at least have had the final pleasure of seeing your son for two days longer. As it was, cruel fate so arranged it that you could neither be present at my misfortune nor get used to my absence. But the harsher these circumstances are, the greater the courage you must summon up and the more fiercely you must fight, as with an enemy you know and have often defeated. Your blood has not now flowed from an undamaged body: you have been struck exactly where the old scars are.

You must not excuse yourself as being a woman, who has been virtually given the right to indulge excessively, but not endlessly, in tears. With this in view our ancestors allowed widows to mourn their husbands for ten months, in order to compromise by public decree with the stubbornness of female grief. They did not prohibit mourning but they limited it. For to be afflicted with endless sorrow at the loss of someone very dear is foolish self-indulgence, and to feel none is inhuman callousness. The best compromise between love and good sense is both to feel longing and to conquer it. You must not pay regard to certain women whose grief, once assumed, was ended only by death — you know some who never removed the mourning dress they put on when they lost their sons. Your life was braver from its start and expects more from you: the excuse of being a woman does not apply to one from whom all womanly faults have been absent. That worst evil of our time, unchastity, has not numbered you among the majority of women; neither jewels nor pearls have influenced you; the glitter of wealth has not struck you as the greatest blessing of the human race; you were brought up in a strict, old-fashioned home and never deviated into the imitation of worse women which is dangerous even to good ones; you were never ashamed of your fertility as if it taunted you with your advancing years; never did you follow other women who seek only to impress by their looks, and hide your pregnancy as if it were an indecent burden, nor did you destroy the hopes of giving birth by abortion; you did not spoil your complexion by paints and cosmetics; you never liked the sort of garment which revealed no more when it was taken off; in you has been seen that matchless ornament, that loveliest beauty which is not dependent on any time of life, that greatest glory of all — modesty. So you cannot, in order to justify your grief, claim the name of woman from which your virtues have set you apart: you ought to be as immune to female tears as to female vices. Not even women will allow you to waste away from your wound, but they will tell you to get your necessary mourning speedily over with and rise again comforted, by willing yourself to keep in mind those women whose conspicuous courage has ranked them with great men. Fortune reduced Cornelia's twelve children to two: if you wanted to count Cornelia's bereavements, she had lost ten; if you wanted to appraise them, she had lost the Gracchi. But when those around her were weeping and cursing her fate she forbad them to accuse Fortune, which had given her the Gracchi as her sons. It was a fitting son of this mother who said in the assembly, 'Would you insult the mother who gave me birth?' Yet his mother's words seem to me much more spirited: the son was proud of the parentage of the Gracchi, the mother of their deaths as well. Rutilia followed her son Cotta into exile, and was so single-minded in her devotion that she preferred exile to missing him, and returned home only when he did. And when, restored to favour and a distinguished public figure, he died, she bore his loss as bravely as she had shared his exile, nor was she ever seen to weep after his funeral. She showed courage when he was exiled and wisdom when he died; for nothing stopped her showing her love and nothing induced her to persist in useless and unavailing grief. It is with women like these that I want you to be numbered. You always imitated their way of life, and you will best follow their example in controlling and conquering your sorrow.

I know that this is not something which is in our power and that no strong feeling is under our control, least of all that which arises from sorrow: for it is violent and violently resists every remedy. Sometimes we want to crush it and swallow down our groans, but through the pretended composure of our features the tears pour down. Sometimes we divert our mind with public shows or gladiatorial contests, but in the very midst of the distractions of the spectacles it is undermined by some little reminder of its loss. Therefore it is better to conquer our grief than to deceive it. For if it has withdrawn, being merely beguiled by pleasures and preoccupations, it starts up again and from its very respite gains force to savage us. But the grief that has been conquered by reason is calmed for ever. I am not therefore going to prescribe for you those remedies which I know many people have used, that you divert or cheer yourself by a long or pleasant journey abroad, or spend a lot of time carefully going through your accounts and administering your estate, or constantly be involved in some new activity. All those things help only for a short time; they do not cure grief but hinder it. But I would rather end it than distract it. And so I am leading you to that resource which must be the refuge of all who are flying from Fortune, liberal studies. They will heal your wound, they will withdraw all your melancholy. Even if you had never been familiar with them you would have need of them now. But, so far as the old-fashioned strictness of my father allowed, you have had some acquaintance with the liberal arts, even if you have not mastered them. If only my father, best of men, had been less devoted to ancestral tradition, and had been willing that you be steeped in the teaching of philosophy and not just gain a smattering of it: you would not now have to acquire your defence against Fortune but just bring it forth. He was less inclined to let you pursue your studies because of those women who use books not to acquire wisdom but as the furniture of luxury. Yet thanks to your vigorously inquiring mind you absorbed a lot considering the time you had available: the foundations of all formal studies have been laid. Return now to these studies and they will keep you safe. They will comfort you, they will delight you; and if they genuinely penetrate your mind, never again will grief enter there, or anxiety, or the distress caused by futile and pointless suffering. Your heart will have room for none of these, for to all other failings it has long been closed. Those studies are your most dependable protection, and they alone can snatch you from Fortune's grip.

But until you arrive at this haven which philosophy holds out to you, you must have supports to lean on: so I want meanwhile to point out your own consolations. Consider my brothers: while they live you have no reason to complain of your fortune. In both you have contrasting virtues to cheer you up: the one achieved public office by his energy, the other in his wisdom despised it. Take comfort in the distinction of the one, the retirement of the other, and the devotion of both. I know the innermost feelings of my brothers. The one fosters his distinction really in order to bring honour to you, while the other has retired into peace and tranquillity in order to have leisure for you. Fortune has done you a service in arranging that your children should bring you both assistance and delight: you can be protected by the distinction of the one and you can enjoy the leisure of the other. They will be rivals in their services to you, and the devotion of two will fill the blank space left by one. I promise you with complete confidence that you will miss nothing but the number of sons.

After these consider too your grandchildren: Marcus, a most charming child — you could not remain sorrowful while looking at him, and no one's heart could suffer anguish too great or too recent not to be soothed by his embrace. Whose tears would his merriment not allay? Whose heart gripped by anxious care would not relax at his lively chatter? Who will not smile at his playfulness? Whose attention, however fixed on his own thoughts, will not be attracted and held by that prattling which no one could tire of? I pray to the gods that he may survive us! May all the cruelty of fate wear itself out and stop at me. Whatever you were destined to suffer as a mother and as a grandmother may I represent. Let the rest of my family flourish undisturbed. I shall not complain of my childlessness or my exile, if only I prove to be the scapegoat for a family that will suffer no more. Embrace Novatilla, who will soon give you great-grandchildren; I had so attached her to myself and adopted her that in losing me she could seem an orphan, though her father is alive. Cherish her for me too. Fortune recently took away her mother, but your love will mean that she will only grieve over her mother's loss but not suffer for it. Now you must shape and compose her character: teaching sinks more deeply into those of impressionable years. Let her grow used to your conversation and be moulded as you think right; you will be giving her a great deal even if you give her only your example. Such a sacred duty as this will act as a cure for you, for only philosophy or honourable occupation can divert from its anguish a heart whose grief springs from love.

I would reckon your father too among your great comforts if he were not absent. As it is, you must now judge his love for you by your love for him, and you will realize how much more just it is for you to preserve yourself for him than sacrifice yourself for me. Whenever excessive grief attacks you and urges you to give way to it, think of your father. Certainly, by giving him so many grandchildren and great-grandchildren you ceased to be his only offspring; but for him the completion of a happy life depends on you. While he lives it is wrong for you to complain that you have lived.

Up to now I have said nothing about your greatest comfort, your sister, that heart most faithful to you into which are poured unreservedly all your anxieties, that soul which has been a mother to us all. You mingled your tears with hers; on her bosom you first began to breathe again. Always indeed she shares your feelings, but in my case she grieves not only for you. She carried me in her arms to Rome. During my long illness it was her loving and motherly nursing that brought me round. When I was a candidate for the quaestorship she supported me and, though she normally lacked the confidence even for conversation or a loud greeting, for my sake love conquered shyness. Neither her sheltered manner of living, nor her modesty (old-fashioned when compared with the prevalent brazenness of women), nor her tranquillity, nor her reserved nature which wanted peace and quiet — none of these prevented her from actually becoming ambitious on my behalf. She, dearest mother, is the source of comfort from which you can revive yourself: cling to her as much as you can in the closest embraces. Sorrowers tend to avoid what they are most fond of and try to give vent to their grief; but you must share all your thoughts with her. Whether you wish to keep this mood or lay it aside, you will find in her either the end of your sorrow or one who will share it. But if I know the wisdom of this paragon of women, she will not allow you to be consumed in profitless anguish, and she will tell you of an edifying episode in her life which I also witnessed.

While actually on a sea voyage she lost her beloved husband, my uncle, whom she had married as a maiden; yet she bore simultaneously the burdens of grief and fear and, though shipwrecked, she rode out the storms and brought his body safely ashore. O how many noble deeds of women are lost in obscurity! If she had chanced to live in the days of old when people frankly admired heroism, how men of genius would have competed to sing the praises of a wife who ignored her physical weakness, ignored the sea which even the bravest must fear, and risked her life to give her husband burial; and while her thoughts were on his funeral had no fears about her own! All the poets have given renown to the woman who offered to die in place of her husband. But this is nobler, to risk one's life to bury one's husband: for that love is greater which wins less through equal danger.

After this it can surprise no one that during the sixteen years her husband governed Egypt she was never seen in public, she received no provincial into her home, she never petitioned her husband for a favour, and she never allowed herself to be petitioned. The result was that a province given to gossip and clever at insulting its rulers, where even those who had avoided wrongdoing did not escape scandal, respected her as a singular pattern of integrity, restrained all licence in its speech (a very difficult achievement where even dangerous witticisms are popular), and even to this day keeps hoping, though it never expects, to see another like her. It would have been a great achievement if she had won the approval of the province for sixteen years; it was even better not to have been noticed there. I do not recall these things in order to list her good qualities (to rehearse them so sketchily is to be unfair to them), but to give you an idea of the high-mindedness of the woman who was not conquered by ambition or greed, those inevitable companions and curses of power; who, facing shipwreck on a disabled boat, was not deterred by the fear of death from clinging to her dead husband and seeking not the means of her own escape but the means of getting his body off for burial. This is the sort of courage you must match, by withdrawing your mind from grief and resolving that no one shall think you regret having had children.

However, whatever you do, inevitably your thoughts will turn to me constantly, and none of your other children will come to your mind more often, not because they are less dear to you but because it is natural to touch more often the part that hurts. So this is how you must think of me — happy and cheerful as if in the best of circumstances. For they are best, since my mind, without any preoccupation, is free for its own tasks, now delighting in more trivial studies, now in its eagerness for the truth rising up to ponder its own nature and that of the universe. It seeks to know first about lands and their location, then the nature of the encompassing sea and its tidal ebb and flow. Then it studies all the awesome expanse which lies between heaven and earth — this nearer space turbulent with thunder, lightning, gales of wind, and falling rain, snow and hail. Finally, having scoured the lower areas it bursts through to the heights and enjoys the noblest sight of divine things and, mindful of its own immortality, it ranges over all that has been and will be throughout all ages.

On Tranquillity of Mind

SERENUS:〔1〕 When I looked into myself, Seneca, some of my vices appeared clearly on the surface, so that I could lay my hand on them; some were more hidden away in the depths; some were not there all the time but return at intervals. These last I would say are the most troublesome: they are like prowling enemies who pounce on you when occasion offers, and allow you neither to be at the ready as in war nor at ease as in peace. However, the state I most find myself in (for why should I not admit the truth to you as to a doctor?) is that I am not really free of the vices which I feared and hated, though not, on the other hand, subject to them: this puts me in a condition which is not the worst, but an extremely peevish and quarrelsome one — I am neither ill nor well. There is no need for you to say that all virtues are fragile to start with and acquire firmness and strength with time. I know too that those which toil to make a good impression, seeking high rank, for example, and a reputation for eloquence, and whatever depends on the approval of others, take time to mature — both those which offer real strength and those which are tricked out in some sort of dye aimed at popularity have to wait years until the passage of time gradually produces their colour. But I'm afraid that habit, which induces firmness in things, may drive this fault more deeply into me: long association brings love of evil as well as good.

I cannot show all at once so much as bit by bit the nature of this mental weakness, which wavers between two choices and does not incline strongly either to right or to wrong: I'll tell you what happens to me and you can find a name for the malady. I have a tremendous love of frugality, I must admit. I don't like a couch decked out ostentatiously; or clothes brought out from a chest or given a sheen by the forceful pressure of weights and a thousand mangles, but homely and inexpensive, and not hoarded to be donned with fuss and bother. I like food which is not prepared and watched over by the household slaves, not ordered many days in advance nor served by a multitude of hands, but readily obtainable and easy to deal with, nothing in it out of the way or expensive, available everywhere, not heavy on the purse or the body, and not destined to come back by the same way it entered. I want my servant to be an ordinary, unskilled, home-born slave; my silver to be the heavy ware of my rustic father without any hallmark; and my table to be without flashy variegated markings and not familiar to the whole town through its many changes of fashionable owners, but set up to be used and not to distract any guest's eyes with pleasure or kindle them with envy. But when I have set up these standards I find my mind dazzled by the fine trappings of some training-school for servants, with the slaves more carefully clothed and decked with gold than if they were in a public parade, and a whole army of glittering flunkies; by a house where you even walk on precious stones, where wealth is scattered in every corner, where the roof itself glitters, and the whole populace deferentially attends the ruin of a family heritage. Need I mention pools clear to their depths which flow around the dinner guests, or banquets worthy of their surroundings? After being long given up to frugality I have found myself surrounded by the lavish splendour of luxury echoing all about me. My vision wavers somewhat, for I can raise my mind to face it more easily than my eyes. And so I come back not a worse but a sadder man; I don't move with my head so high among my trivial possessions; and a secret gnawing doubt undermines me whether that life is superior. None of these things is changing me, but none of them fails to shake me.

I decide to follow my teacher's precepts and busy myself in state affairs; I decide to achieve public office — not, of course, because of the purple robe and the lictors' rods, but so that I can be more ready with help for my friends and relations, for all my fellow-citizens, and then for all mankind. Enthusiastically I follow Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, of whom, by the way, none entered public life and all urged others to do so. But when something has assailed my mind, which is not used to being battered; when something has happened which either is unworthy of me (a common experience in every human life) or cannot easily be dealt with; when unimportant things become time-consuming; I take refuge in leisure and, just like weary flocks of animals, I make my way more quickly home. I decide to restrict my life within its walls, saying, 'Let no one rob me of a single day who is not going to make me an adequate return for such a loss. Let my mind be fixed on itself, cultivate itself, have no external interest — nothing that seeks the approval of another; let it cherish the tranquillity that has no part in public or private concerns.' But when my mind is excited by reading a convincing account of something and spurred on by noble examples, I long to rush into the forum, to speak on behalf of one man and offer help to another, which will at least be an attempt to assist even if it does not succeed, or to curb the pride of someone else grown arrogant by success.

In my studies I suppose it must indeed be better to keep my theme firmly in view and speak to this, while allowing the theme to suggest my words and so dictate the course of an unstudied style of speech. 'Where is the need,' I ask, 'to compose something to last for ages? Why not stop trying to prevent posterity being silent about you? You were born to die, and a silent funeral is less bothersome. So if you must fill your time, write something in a simple style for your own use and not for publication: less toil is needed if you study only for the day.' Again, when my mind is lifted up by the greatness of its thoughts, it becomes ambitious for words and longs to match its higher inspiration with its language, and so produces a style that conforms to the impressiveness of the subject matter. Then it is that I forget my rule and principle of restraint, and I am carried too far aloft by a voice no longer my own.

To cut the matter short, this weakness in my good intentions pursues me in every sphere. I fear that I am gradually getting worse, or (which is more worrying) that I am hanging on an edge like someone always on the point of falling, and that perhaps there is more wrong than I myself can see: for we take too intimate a view of our own characteristics and bias always affects our judgement. I imagine many people could have achieved wisdom if they had not imagined they had already achieved it, if they had not dissembled about some of their own characteristics and turned a blind eye to others. For you have no reason to suppose that we come to grief more through the flattery of others than through our own. Who has dared to tell himself the truth? Who even when surrounded by crowds of toadying sycophants is not his own greatest flatterer? So, I am appealing to you, if you have any cure for this vacillation of mind, to consider me worthy of owing tranquillity to you. I realize that these mental agitations of mine are not dangerous and won't produce a storm. To express my complaint for you in a realistic metaphor, I am harried not by a tempest but by sea-sickness. Whatever my ailment, then, root it out and come to the help of one who is struggling in sight of land.

SENECA: Indeed, Serenus, I have long been silently asking myself to what I should compare such a mental state, and I could find no closer analogy than the condition of those people who have got over a long and serious illness, but are still sometimes mildly affected by onsets of fever and pain, and even when free of the last symptoms are still worried and upset; and, though quite better, offer their hands to doctors and needlessly complain if they feel at all hot. With these people, Serenus, it is not that their bodies are insufficiently healed but that they are insufficiently used to health, just as even a calm sea will show some ripples, especially when it has subsided following a storm. So what you need is not those more radical remedies which we have now finished with — blocking yourself here, being angry with yourself there, threatening yourself sternly somewhere else — but the final treatment, confidence in yourself and the belief that you are on the right path, and not led astray by the many tracks which cross yours of people who are hopelessly lost, though some are wandering not far from the true path. But what you are longing for is great and supreme and nearly divine — not to be shaken. The Greeks call this steady firmness of mind 'euthymia' (Democritus wrote a good treatise about it), but I call it tranquillity, as there is no need to imitate and reproduce the form of Greek words: the point at issue must be indicated by some term which should have the sense but not the form of the Greek name. We are, therefore, seeking how the mind can follow a smooth and steady course, well disposed to itself, happily regarding its own condition and with no interruption to this pleasure, but remaining in a state of peace with no ups and downs: that will be tranquillity. Let us consider in general how this can be achieved: you will then extract what you like from the communal remedy. Meanwhile the whole failing must be dragged out into the open, where everyone will recognize his own share in it. At the same time you will realize how much less trouble you have with your self-revulsion than those people who, tied to some specious declaration and labouring under an impressive title, are stuck with their own pretence more by shame than by desire.

They are all in the same category, both those who are afflicted with fickleness, boredom and a ceaseless change of purpose, and who always yearn for what they have left behind, and those who just yawn from apathy. There are those too who toss around like insomniacs, and keep changing their position until they find rest through sheer weariness. They keep altering the condition of their lives, and eventually stick to that one in which they are trapped not by weariness with further change but by old age which is too sluggish for novelty. There are those too who suffer not from moral steadfastness but from inertia, and so lack the fickleness to live as they wish, and just live as they have begun. In fact there are innumerable characteristics of the malady, but one effect — dissatisfaction with oneself. This arises from mental instability and from fearful and unfulfilled desires, when men do not dare or do not achieve all they long for, and all they grasp at is hope: they are always unbalanced and fickle, an inevitable consequence of living in suspense. They struggle to gain their prayers by every path, and they teach and force themselves to do dishonourable and difficult things; and when their efforts are unrewarded the fruitless disgrace tortures them, and they regret not the wickedness but the frustration of their desires. Then they are gripped by repentance for their attempt and fear of trying again, and they are undermined by the restlessness of a mind that can discover no outlet, because they can neither control nor obey their desires, by the dithering of a life that cannot see its way ahead, and by the lethargy of a soul stagnating amid its abandoned hopes. All these afflictions are worse when, through hatred of their toilsome failure, men have retreated into idleness and private studies which are unbearable to a mind aspiring to public service, keen on activity, and restless by nature because of course it is short of inner resources. In consequence, when the pleasures have been removed which busy people derive from their actual activities, the mind cannot endure the house, the solitude, the walls, and hates to observe its own isolation. From this arises that boredom and self-dissatisfaction, that turmoil of a restless mind and gloomy and grudging endurance of our leisure, especially when we are ashamed to admit the reasons for it and our sense of shame drives the agony inward, and our desires are trapped in narrow bounds without escape and stifle themselves. From this arise melancholy and mourning and a thousand vacillations of a wavering mind, buoyed up by the birth of hope and sickened by the death of it. From this arises the state of mind of those who loathe their own leisure and complain that they have nothing to do, and the bitterest envy at the promotion of others. For unproductive idleness nurtures malice, and because they themselves could not prosper they want everyone else to be ruined. Then from this dislike of others' success and despair of their own, their minds become enraged against fortune, complain about the times, retreat into obscurity, and brood over their own sufferings until they become sick and tired of themselves. For the human mind is naturally mobile and enjoys activity. Every chance of stimulation and distraction is welcome to it — even more welcome to all those inferior characters who actually enjoy being worn out by busy activity. There are certain bodily sores which welcome the hands that will hurt them, and long to be touched, and a foul itch loves to be scratched: in the same way I would say that those minds on which desires have broken out like horrid sores take delight in toil and aggravation. For some things delight our bodies even when they cause some pain, like turning over to change a side that is not yet tired and repeatedly shifting to keep cool: so Achilles in Homer lay now on his face, now on his back, trying to settle in different positions, and like an invalid could endure nothing for long but used his restlessness as a cure. Hence men travel far and wide, wandering along foreign shores and making trial by land and sea of their restlessness, which always hates what is around it. 'Let's now go to Campania.' Then when they get bored with luxury — 'Let's visit uncultivated areas; let's explore the woodlands of Bruttium and Lucania.' And yet amid the wilds some delight is missing by which their pampered eyes can find relief from the tedious squalor of these unsightly regions. 'Let's go to Tarentum, with its celebrated harbour and mild winters, an area prosperous enough for a large population even in antiquity.' 'Let's now make our way to the city' — too long have their ears missed the din of applause: now they long to enjoy even the sight of human blood. They make one journey after another and change spectacle for spectacle. As Lucretius says, 'Thus each man ever flees himself.' But to what end, if he does not escape himself? He pursues and dogs himself as his own most tedious companion. And so we must realize that our difficulty is not the fault of the places but of ourselves. We are weak in enduring anything, and cannot put up with toil or pleasure or ourselves or anything for long. This weakness has driven some men to their deaths; because by frequently changing their aims they kept falling back on the same things and had left themselves no room for novelty. They began to be sick of life and the world itself, and out of their enervating self-indulgence arose the feeling 'How long must I face the same things?'

You want to know what remedy I can recommend against this boredom. The best course, as Athenodorus says, would be to busy oneself in the practical activity of political involvement and civic duties. For just as some people spend the day in sun-bathing, exercise and the care of their bodies, and for athletes it is of the highest practical importance to spend most of their time cultivating the strength of their limbs, to which alone they have devoted themselves, so for you, who are training your mind for the contests of public life, by far the finest approach is regular practice. For when one intends to make himself useful to his fellow-citizens and fellowmen, he is at the same time getting practice and doing good if he throws himself heart and soul into the duty of looking after both the community and the individual. 'But,' says Athenodorus, 'since mankind is so insanely ambitious and so many false accusers twist right into wrong, making honesty unsafe and bound to meet resistance rather than help, we should indeed retire from public and political life, though a great mind has scope for free activity even in private life. The energies of lions and other animals are restricted by cages, but not of men, whose finest achievements are seen in retirement. However, let a man seclude himself on condition that, wherever he conceals his leisure, he is prepared to serve both individuals and all mankind by his intellect, his words and his counsel. Service to the state is not restricted to the man who produces candidates for office, defends people in court, and votes for peace and war: the man who teaches the young, who instils virtue into their minds (and we have a great shortage of good teachers), who grips and restrains those who are rushing madly after wealth and luxury, and if nothing more at least delays them — he too is doing a public service, though in private life. Do you imagine that more benefit is provided by the praetors, who settle cases between foreigners and citizens by pronouncing to appellants the verdict of the assessor, than by those who pronounce on the nature of justice, piety, endurance, bravery, contempt of death, knowledge of the gods, and how free a blessing is that of a good conscience? So if you devote to your studies the time you have taken from your public duties you will not have deserted or evaded your task. For the soldier is not only the man who stands in the battle line, defending the right and left wings, but also the one who guards the gates and has the post, less dangerous but not idle, of keeping the watch and guarding the armoury: these duties, though bloodless, count as military service. If you apply yourself to study you will avoid all boredom with life, you will not long for night because you are sick of daylight, you will be neither a burden to yourself nor useless to others, you will attract many to become your friends and the finest people will flock about you. For even obscure virtue is never concealed but gives visible evidence of herself: anyone worthy of her will follow her tracks. But if we shun all society and, abandoning the human race, live for ourselves alone, this isolation, devoid of any interest, will be followed by a dearth of worthwhile activity. We shall begin to put up some buildings, to pull down others, to push back the sea, to draw waters through unnatural channels, and to squander the time which nature gave us to be used. Some of us use it sparingly, others wastefully; some spend it so that we can give an account of it, others so that we have no balance left — a most shameful result. Often a very old man has no other proof of his long life than his age.'

It seems to me, my dear Serenus, that Athenodorus has too easily submitted to the times and too quickly retreated. I would not deny that one has to yield sometimes — but by a gradual retreat, and holding on to our standards and our soldier's honour. Those who are still armed when they agree terms with their enemies are safer and more highly regarded. This, I think, is what Virtue and Virtue's disciple should do: if Fortune gets the better of someone and deprives him of the means of action, he should not immediately turn his back and bolt, dropping his weapons and looking for a place to hide (as if there were any place where Fortune could not find him), but he should apply himself more sparingly to his duties and choose something carefully in which he can serve the state. Suppose he cannot be a soldier: let him seek public office. Suppose he has to live in a private capacity: let him be an advocate. Suppose he is condemned to silence: let him help his fellow-citizens by unspoken support. Suppose it is dangerous for him to be seen in the forum: in private homes, at the shows, at banquets let him play the part of a good companion, a loyal friend, a temperate banqueter. Suppose he has lost the duties of a citizen: let him practise those of a man. With a lofty spirit we have refused to confine ourselves within the walls of one city, and we have gone out to have dealings with the whole earth and claimed the world as our country, for this reason, that we might give our virtue a wider field for action. Suppose you are cut off from judicial office, and public speaking and elections are closed to you: consider all the extensive regions that lie open behind you, all the peoples — you will never find an area barred to you so large that an even larger one is not left open. But take care that this is not entirely your fault — for example, that you don't want to take public office except as consul or prytanis or herald or sufes. But suppose you didn't want to serve in the army except as general or tribune? Even if others hold the front line and your lot has put you in the third rank, you must play the soldier there with your voice, your encouragement, your example and your spirit. Even if a man's hands are cut off, he finds he can yet serve his side by standing firm and cheering them on. You should do something like that: if Fortune has removed you from a leading role in public life you should still stand firm and cheer others on, and if someone grips your throat, still stand firm and help though silent. The service of a good citizen is never useless: being heard and seen, he helps by his expression, a nod of his head, a stubborn silence, even his gait. Just as certain wholesome substances do us good by their odour even without tasting or touching them, so Virtue spreads her advantages even from a distant hiding place. Whether she walks abroad about her legitimate business, or appears on sufferance and is forced to furl her sails, whether she is confined, inactive and dumb, within a narrow space, or fully visible, in any condition at all she does good service. Why do you think that a man living in honourable retirement cannot offer a valuable example? Much the best course, therefore, is to combine leisure with some activity whenever a fully energetic life is impossible owing to the hindrances of chance or the state of the country; for you will never find absolutely every road blocked to some form of honourable activity.

Can you find a more wretched city than Athens when she was being torn apart by the Thirty Tyrants? Having killed thirteen hundred of the best citizens, they did not stop at that, but their very savagery spurred itself on. In a city which contained the Areopagus, a law court of the highest sanctity, and a senate and a popular assembly resembling a senate, there met daily a sinister group of executioners, and the unfortunate senate house was crowded with tyrants. Could that state be at peace where there were as many tyrants as attendants? There could not even be a hope of recovering their liberty nor any obvious chance of retaliation against such powerful villains: for where could the poor country find enough men like Harmodius? Yet Socrates was in the thick of it: he comforted the gloomy city fathers, encouraged those who were despairing of the state, reproached the rich who now feared their own wealth for a tardy repentance of their dangerous greed; and to those willing to imitate him he was a walking inspiration, as he moved about, a free spirit among thirty masters. Yet this was the man that Athens herself put to death in prison, and Freedom could not bear the freedom of the man who had openly scoffed at a whole troop of tyrants. So you can understand both that in a state suffering disaster the wise man has the opportunity to show an influential presence, and that in a successful and prosperous state money-grubbing, envy and a thousand other unmanly vices reign supreme. Therefore, according to the disposition of the state and the liberty Fortune allows us, we shall either extend or contract our activities; but at all events we shall stir ourselves and not be gripped and paralysed by fear. He indeed will prove a man who, threatened by dangers on all sides, with arms and chains clattering around him, will neither endanger nor conceal his courage: for self-preservation does not entail suppressing onself. Truly, I believe, Curius Dentatus used to say that he preferred real death to living death; for the ultimate horror is to leave the number of the living before you die. But if you happen to live at a time when public life is hard to cope with, you will just have to claim more time for leisure and literary work, seek a safe harbour from time to time as if you were on a dangerous voyage, and not wait for public life to dismiss you but voluntarily release yourself from it first.

However, we must take a careful look first at ourselves, then at the activities which we shall be attempting, and then at those for whose sake and with whom we are attempting them.

Above all it is essential to appraise oneself, because we usually overestimate our capabilities. One man comes to grief through trusting his eloquence; another makes more demands on his fortune than it can stand; another taxes his frail body with laborious work. Some men are too shy for politics, which require a bold appearance; some through brashness are not fitted for court life; some cannot restrain their anger and any feeling of annoyance drives them to reckless language; some cannot control their wit and refrain from smart but dangerous sallies. For all of these retirement is more expedient than public activity: a passionate and impatient nature must avoid provocations to outspokenness that will cause trouble.

Then we must appraise the actual things we are attempting and match our strength to what we are going to undertake. For the performer must always be stronger than his task: loads that are too heavy for the bearer are bound to overwhelm him. Moreover, certain tasks are not so much great as prolific in producing many other tasks: we must avoid those which give birth in turn to new and manifold activities, and not approach something from which we cannot easily withdraw. You must set your hands to tasks which you can finish or at least hope to finish, and avoid those which get bigger as you proceed and do not cease where you had intended.

We must be especially careful in choosing people, and deciding whether they are worth devoting a part of our lives to them, whether the sacrifice of our time makes a difference to them. For some people actually charge us for our services to them. Athenodorus says he would not even go to dinner with a man who did not thereby feel indebted to him. I suppose you realize how much less inclined he was to visit those who repay their friends' services with a meal, and count the courses as largesses, as if they were overdoing the honour paid to another. Take away their witnesses and spectators and there is no fun in private gormandizing.

You must consider whether your nature is more suited to practical activity or to quiet study and reflection, and incline in the direction your natural faculty and disposition take you. Isocrates forcibly pulled Ephorus away from the forum, thinking he would be better employed in writing history. Inborn dispositions do not respond well to compulsion, and we labour in vain against nature's opposition.

But nothing delights the mind so much as fond and loyal friendship. What a blessing it is to have hearts that are ready and willing to receive all your secrets in safety, with whom you are less afraid to share knowledge of something than keep it to yourself, whose conversation soothes your distress, whose advice helps you make up your mind, whose cheerfulness dissolves your sorrow, whose very appearance cheers you up! To be sure, we shall choose those who are as far as possible free from strong desires; for vices spread insidiously, and those nearest to hand are assailed and damaged by contact with them. It follows that, just as at a time of an epidemic disease we must take care not to sit beside people whose bodies are infected with feverish disease because we shall risk ourselves and suffer from their breathing upon us, so in choosing our friends for their characters we shall take care to find those who are the least corrupted: mixing the sound with the sick is how disease starts. But I am not enjoining upon you to follow and associate with none but a wise man. For where will you find him whom we have been seeking for ages? In place of the ideal we must put up with the least bad. You would scarcely have the opportunity of a happier choice if you were hunting for good men among the Platos and Xenophons and all that offspring of the Socratic breed; or if you had access to the age of Cato, which produced many men worthy to be born in Cato's time. (It also produced many who were worse than at any other time and who committed appalling crimes: for both groups were necessary for Cato to be appreciated — he needed the good to win their approval and the bad to prove his strength.) But in the current dearth of good men you must be less particular in your choice. Still, you must especially avoid those who are gloomy and always lamenting, and who grasp at every pretext for complaint. Though a man's loyalty and kindness may not be in doubt, a companion who is agitated and groaning about everything is an enemy to peace of mind.

Let us turn to private possessions, the greatest source of human misery. For if you compare all the other things from which we suffer, deaths, illnesses, fears, desires, endurance of pains and toils, with the evils which money brings us, the latter will far outweigh the others. So we must bear in mind how much lighter is the pain of not having money than of losing it; and we shall realize that the less poverty has to lose the less agony it can cause us. For you are mistaken if you think that rich people suffer with more fortitude: the pain of a wound is the same in the largest and the smallest bodies. Bion aptly remarks that plucking out hair hurts bald people just as much as those with hair. You can make the same point that rich and poor suffer equal distress: for both groups cling to their money and suffer if it is torn away from them. But, as I said, it is easier to bear and simpler not to acquire than to lose, so you will notice that those people are more cheerful whom Fortune has never favoured than those whom she has deserted. That great-souled man Diogenes realized this, and arranged that nothing could be taken from him. You can call this state poverty, deprivation, need, and give this freedom from care any shameful name you like: I shall not count this man happy if you can find me another who has nothing to lose. If I am not mistaken it is a royal position among all the misers, the cheats, the robbers, the kidnappers, to be the only one who cannot be harmed. If anyone has any doubts about Diogenes' felicity he can also have doubts about the condition of the immortal gods — whether they are living unhappily because they have no estates and parks and costly farms let out to foreign tenants and vast receipts of interest in the forum. Are you not ashamed of yourselves, all of you who are smitten by wealth? Come, look at the heavens: you will see the gods devoid of possessions, and giving everything though they have nothing. Do you think a man who has stripped himself of all the gifts of chance is poor, or that he resembles the immortal gods? Demetrius, Pompey's freedman, was not ashamed to be richer than Pompey: would you say he was thereby happier? He used to keep the tally of his slaves daily like a general reviewing his let us learn to rely on our limbs, and to adjust our style of dress and our way of living not to the newfangled patterns but to the customs of our ancestors. Let us learn to increase our self-restraint, to curb luxury, to moderate ambition, to soften anger, to regard poverty without prejudice, to practise frugality, even if many are ashamed of it, to apply to nature's needs the remedies that are cheaply available, to curb as if in fetters unbridled hopes and a mind obsessed with the future, and to aim to acquire our riches from ourselves rather than from Fortune. It is not possible that all the manifold and unfair disasters of life can be so repelled that many storm winds will not still assail those who spread their sails ambitiously. We must restrict our activities so that Fortune's weapons miss their mark; and for that reason exiles and calamities have proved to benefit us and greater disasters have been mended by lesser ones. When the mind is less amenable to instruction and cannot be cured by milder means, why should it not be helped by having a dose of poverty and disgrace and general ruin — dealing with evil by evil? So let us get used to dining without a mass of people, to being slave to fewer slaves, to acquiring clothes for their proper purpose, and to living in more restricted quarters. Not only in running and the contests of the Circus, but in this race course of our lives we must keep to the inner track.

Even in our studies, where expenditure is most worth while, its justification depends on its moderation. What is the point of having countless books and libraries whose titles the owner could scarcely read through in his whole lifetime? The mass of books burdens the student without instructing him, and it is far better to devote yourself to a few authors than to get lost among many. Forty thousand books were burned in the library at Alexandria. Someone else can praise it as a sumptuous monument to royal wealth, like Titus Livius, who calls it a notable achievement of the good taste and devotion of kings. That was not good taste or devotion but scholarly self-indulgence — in fact, not even scholarly, since they had collected the books not for scholarship but for display. In the same way you will find that many people who lack even elementary culture keep books not as tools of learning but as decoration for their dining-rooms. So we should buy enough books for use, and none just for embellishment. 'But this,' you say, 'is a more honourable expense than squandering money on Corinthian bronzes and on pictures.' But excess in any sphere is reprehensible. How can you excuse a man who collects bookcases of citron-wood and ivory, amasses the works of unknown or third-rate authors, and then sits yawning among all his thousands of books and gets most enjoyment out of the appearance of his volumes and their labels? Thus you will see that the idlest men possess sets of orations and histories, with crates piled up to the ceiling: for nowadays an elegant library too has joined hot and cold baths as an essential adornment for a house. I would certainly excuse people for erring through an excessive love of study; but these collections of works of inspired genius, along with their several portraits, are acquired only for pretentious wall decoration.

But perhaps you have become involved in some difficult situation in life in which either public or private circumstances have fastened a noose on you unawares, which you can neither loosen nor snap. You must reflect that fettered prisoners only at first feel the weight of the shackles on their legs: in time, when they have decided not to struggle against but to bear them, they learn from necessity to endure with fortitude, and from habit to endure with ease. In any situation in life you will find delights and relaxations and pleasures if you are prepared to make light of your troubles and not let them distress you. In no respect has nature put us more in her debt, since, knowing to what sorrows we were born, she contrived habit to soothe our disasters, and so quickly makes us grow used to the worst ills. No one could endure lasting adversity if it continued to have the same force as when it first hit us. We are all tied to Fortune, some by a loose and golden chain, and others by a tight one of baser metal: but what does it matter? We are all held in the same captivity, and those who have bound others are themselves in bonds — unless you think perhaps that the left-hand chain is lighter. One man is bound by high office, another by wealth; good birth weighs down some, and a humble origin others; some bow under the rule of other men and some under their own; some are restricted to one place by exile, others by priesthoods: all life is a servitude. So you have to get used to your circumstances, complain about them as little as possible, and grasp whatever advantage they have to offer: no condition is so bitter that a stable mind cannot find some consolation in it. Often small areas can be skilfully divided up to allow room for many uses and arrangement can make a narrow piece of ground inhabitable. Think your way through difficulties: harsh conditions can be softened, restricted ones can be widened, and heavy ones can weigh less on those who know how to bear them. Moreover, we must not send our desires on a distant hunt, but allow them to explore what is near to hand, since they do not submit to being totally confined. Abandoning those things which are impossible or difficult to attain, let us pursue what is readily available and entices our hopes, yet recognize that all are equally trivial, outwardly varied in appearance but uniformly futile within. And let us not envy those who stand higher than we do: what look like towering heights are precipices. On the other hand, those whom an unfair fate has put in a critical condition will be safer for lowering their pride in things that are in themselves proud and reducing their fortune as far as they can to a humble level. Indeed there are many who are forced to cling to their pinnacle because they cannot descend without falling; but they must bear witness that this in itself is their greatest burden, that they are forced to be a burden to others, and that they are not so much elevated as impaled. By justice, gentleness, kindness and lavish generosity let them prepare many defences against later disasters to give them hope of hanging on more safely. But nothing can rescue us from these mental vacillations so efficiently as always to set some limit to advancements, and not to allow Fortune the decision when they should cease but ourselves to stop far short of that. In this way we shall have some desires to stimulate the mind, but being limited they will not lead us to a state of uncontrolled uncertainty.

What I am saying applies to people who are imperfect, commonplace and unsound, not to the wise man. He does not have to walk nervously or cautiously, for he has such self-confidence that he does not hesitate to make a stand against Fortune and will never give ground to her. He has no reason to fear her, since he regards as held on sufferance not only his goods and possessions and status, but even his body, his eyes and hand, and all that makes life more dear, and his very self, and he lives as though he were lent to himself and bound to return the loan on demand without complaint. Nor is he thereby cheap in his own eyes because he knows he is not his own, but he will act in all things as carefully and meticulously as a devout and holy man guards anything entrusted to him. And whenever he is ordered to repay his debt he will not complain to Fortune, but he will say: 'I thank you for what I have possessed and held. I have looked after your property to my great benefit, but at your command I give and yield it with gratitude and good will. If you want me still to have anything of yours, I shall keep it safe; if you wish otherwise, I give back and restore to you my silver, both coined and plate, my house and my household.' Should Nature demand back what she previously entrusted to us we shall say to her too: 'Take back my spirit in better shape than when you gave it. I do not quibble or hang back: I am willing for you to have straightway what you gave me before I was conscious — take it.' What is the harm in returning to the point whence you came? He will live badly who does not know how to die well. So we must first strip off the value we set on this thing and reckon the breath of life as something cheap. To quote Cicero, we hate gladiators if they are keen to save their life by any means; we favour them if they openly show contempt for it. You must realize that the same thing applies to us: for often the cause of dying is the fear of it. Dame Fortune, who makes sport with us, says, 'Why should I preserve you, base and fearful creature? You will only receive more severe wounds and stabs, as you don't know how to offer your throat. But you will both live longer and die more easily, since you receive the blade bravely, without withdrawing your neck and putting your hands in the way. He who fears death will never do anything worthy of a living man. But he who knows that this was the condition laid down for him at the moment of his conception will live on those terms, and at the same time he will guarantee with a similar strength of mind that no events take him by surprise. For by foreseeing anything that can happen as though it will happen he will soften the onslaught of all his troubles, which present no surprises to those who are ready and waiting for them, but fall heavily on those who are careless in the expectation that all will be well. There is disease, imprisonment, disaster, fire: none of these is unexpected — I did know in what riotous company Nature had enclosed me. So many times have the dead been lamented in my neighbourhood; so many times have torch and taper conducted untimely funerals past my threshold. Often has the crash of a falling building echoed beside me. Many who were linked to me through the forum and the senate and everyday conversation have been carried off in a night, which has severed the hands once joined in friendship. Should it surprise me if the perils which have always roamed around me should some day reach me? A great number of people plan a sea voyage with no thought of a storm. I shall never be ashamed to go to a bad author for a good quotation. Whenever Publilius abandoned the absurdities of the mime and language aimed at the gallery, he showed more force of intellect than the writers of tragedy and comedy; and he produced many thoughts more striking than those of tragedy, let alone farce, including this one: 'What can happen to one can happen to all.' If you let this idea sink into your vitals, and regard all the ills of other people (of which every day shows an enormous supply) as having a clear path to you too, you will be armed long before you are attacked. It is too late for the mind to equip itself to endure dangers once they are already there. 'I didn't think it would happen' and 'Would you ever have believed it would turn out so?' Why ever not? Are there any riches which are not pursued by poverty and hunger and beggary? What rank is there whose purple robe and augur's staff and patrician shoe-straps are not attended by squalor and the brand of disgrace and a thousand marks of shame and utter contempt? What kingship does not face ruin and trampling down, the tyrant and the hangman? And these things are not separated by wide intervals: there is only a brief hour between sitting on a throne and kneeling to another. Know, then, that every condition can change, and whatever happens to anyone can happen to you too. You are rich: but are you richer than Pompey? Yet even he lacked bread and water when Gaius, his old relation and new host, had opened the house of Caesar to him so that he could close his own. Though he possessed so many rivers flowing from source to mouth in his own lands, he had to beg for drops of water. He died of hunger and thirst in a kinsman's palace, and while he starved his heir was organizing a state funeral for him. You have filled the highest offices: were they as high or unexpected or all-embracing as Sejanus had? Yet on the same day the senate escorted him to prison and the people tore him to pieces; and there was nothing left for the executioner to drag away of the man who had had everything heaped on him that gods and men could offer. You are a king: I shall not direct you to Croesus, who lived to see his own funeral pyre both lit and extinguished, thus surviving not only his kingdom but his own death; nor to Jugurtha, who was put on show to the Roman people within a year of causing them terror. We have seen Ptolemy, king of Africa, and Mithridates, king of Armenia, imprisoned by Gaius. One of them was sent into exile; the other hoped to be sent there in better faith. In all this topsy-turvy succession of events, unless you regard anything that can happen as bound to happen you give adversity a power over you which the man who sees it first can crush.

The next thing to ensure is that we do not waste our energies pointlessly or in pointless activities: that is, not to long either for what we cannot achieve, or for what, once gained, only makes us realize too late and after much exertion the futility of our desires. In other words, let our labour not be in vain and without result, nor the result unworthy of our labour; for usually bitterness follows if either we do not succeed or we are ashamed of succeeding. We must cut down on all this dashing about that a great many people indulge in, as they throng around houses and theatres and fora: they intrude into other people's affairs, always giving the impression of being busy. If you ask one of them as he comes out of a house, 'Where are you going? What do you have in mind?' he will reply, 'I really don't know; but I'll see some people, I'll do something.' They wander around aimlessly looking for employment, and they do not what they intended but what they happen to run across. Their roaming is idle and pointless, like ants crawling over bushes, which purposelessly make their way right up to the topmost branch and then all the way down again. Many people live a life like these creatures, and you could not unjustly call it busy idleness. You will feel sorry for some folk you see rushing along as if to a fire; so often do they bump headlong into those in their way and send themselves and others sprawling, when all the time they have been running to call on someone who will not return the call, or to attend the funeral of somebody they don't know, or the trial of somebody who is constantly involved in litigation, or the betrothal of a woman who is constantly getting married, and while attending a litter have on occasion even carried it. They then return home, worn out to no purpose and swearing they themselves don't know why they went out or where they have been — and the next day they will wander forth on the same old round. So let all your activity be directed to some object, let it have some end in view. It is not industry that makes men restless, but false impressions of things drive them mad. For even madmen need some hope to stir them: the outward show of some object excites them because their deluded mind cannot detect its worthlessness. In the same way every individual among those who wander forth to swell a crowd is led round the city by empty and trivial reasons. Dawn drives him forth with nothing to do, and after he has been jostled in vain on many men's doorsteps and only succeeds in greeting their slave-announcers, shut out by many he finds no one at home with more difficulty than himself. This evil leads in turn to that most disgraceful vice of eavesdropping and prying into public and secret things and learning about many matters which are safe neither to talk about nor to listen to.

I imagine that Democritus had this in mind when he began: 'Anyone who wishes to live a quiet life should not engage in many activities either privately or publicly' — meaning, of course, useless ones. For if they are essential, then not just many but countless things have to be done both privately and publicly. But when no binding duty summons us we must restrain our actions. For a man who is occupied with many things often puts himself into the power of Fortune, whereas the safest policy is rarely to tempt her, though to keep her always in mind and to trust her in nothing. Thus: 'I shall sail unless something happens'; and 'I shall become praetor unless something prevents me'; and 'My business will be successful unless something interferes.' That is why we say that nothing happens to the wise man against his expectation. We remove him not from the chances that befall mankind but from their mistakes, nor do all things turn out for him as he wished but as he reckoned — and above all he reckoned that something could block his plans. But inevitably the mind can cope more easily with the distress arising from disappointed longings if you have not promised it certain success.

We should also make ourselves flexible, so that we do not pin our hopes too much on our set plans, and can move over to those things to which chance has brought us, without dreading a change in either our purpose or our condition, provided that fickleness, that fault most inimical to tranquillity, does not get hold of us. For obstinacy, from which Fortune often extorts something, is bound to bring wretchedness and anxiety, and much more serious is the fickleness that nowhere restrains itself. Both are hostile to tranquillity, and find change impossible and endurance impossible. In any case the mind must be recalled from external objects into itself: it must trust in itself, rejoice in itself, admire its own things; it must withdraw as much as possible from the affairs of others and devote its attention to itself; it must not feel losses and should take a kindly view even of misfortunes. When a shipwreck was reported and he heard that all his possessions had sunk, our founder Zeno said, 'Fortune bids me be a less encumbered philosopher.' When a tyrant threatened to kill the philosopher Theodorus, and indeed to leave him unburied, he replied, 'You can please yourself, and my half-pint of blood is in your power; but as to burial, you are a fool if you think it matters to me whether I rot above or below ground.' Julius Canus, an outstandingly fine man, whom we can admire even though he was born in our age, had a long dispute with Gaius; and as he was going away that Phalaris said to him, 'In case you are deluding yourself with foolish hopes, I have ordered you to be led off to execution.' His reply was 'I thank you, noble emperor.' I am not certain what he meant, for many possibilities occur to me. Did he mean to be insulting by showing the extent of the cruelty which caused death to be a blessing? Was he taunting him with his daily bouts of madness (for people used to thank him whose children had been murdered and whose property had been confiscated)? Was he accepting his sentence as a welcome release? Whatever he meant, it was a spirited reply. Someone will say, 'After this Gaius could have ordered him to live.' Canus was not afraid of that: Gaius was known to keep his word in commands of that sort. Will you believe that Canus spent the ten days leading up to his execution without any anxiety at all? It is incredible what that man said, what he did, how calm he remained. He was playing draughts when the centurion who was dragging off a troop of condemned men ordered him to be summoned too. At the call he counted his pieces and said to his companion, 'See that you don't falsely claim after my death that you won.' Then, nodding to the centurion, he said, 'You will be witness that I am leading by one piece.' Do you think Canus was just enjoying his game at that board? He was enjoying his irony. His friends were sorrowful at the prospect of losing such a man, and he said to them, 'Why are you sad? You are wondering whether souls are immortal: I shall soon know.' He did not cease searching for the truth right up to the end and making his own death a topic for discussion. His philosophy teacher went with him, and when they were not far from the mound on which our god Caesar received his daily offering, he said, 'Canus, what are you thinking about now? What is your state of mind?' Canus replied, 'I have decided to take note whether in that most fleeting moment the spirit is aware of its departure from the body'; and he promised that if he discovered anything he would visit his friends in turn and reveal to them the state of the soul. Just look at that serenity in the midst of a hurricane, that spirit worthy of immortality, which invokes its own fate to establish the truth, and in that very last phase of life questions the departing soul and seeks to learn something not only up to the time of death but from the very experience of death itself. No one ever pursued philosophy longer. So great a man will not quickly be relinquished, and he should be referred to with respect: glorious spirit, who swelled the roll of Gaius' victims, we shall ensure your immortality.

But there is no point in banishing the causes of private sorrow, for sometimes we are gripped by a hatred of the human race. When you consider how rare is simplicity and how unknown is innocence, how you scarcely ever find loyalty except when it is expedient, what a host of successful crimes you come across, and all the things equally hateful that men gain and lose through lust, and how ambition is now so far from setting limits to itself that it acquires a lustre from viciousness — all this drives the mind into a darkness whose shadows overwhelm it, as though those virtues were overturned which it is not possible to hope for and not useful to possess. We must therefore school ourselves to regard all commonly held vices as not hateful but ridiculous, and we should imitate Democritus rather than Heraclitus. For whenever these went out in public, the latter used to weep and the former to laugh; the latter thought all our activities sorrows, the former, follies. So we should make light of all things and endure them with tolerance: it is more civilized to make fun of life than to bewail it. Bear in mind too that he deserves better of the human race as well who laughs at it than he who grieves over it; since the one allows it a fair prospect of hope, while the other stupidly laments over things he cannot hope will be put right. And, all things considered, it is the mark of a greater mind not to restrain laughter than not to restrain tears, since laughter expresses the gentlest of our feelings, and reckons that nothing is great or serious or even wretched in all the trappings of our existence. Let every man contemplate the individual occurrences which bring us joy or grief, and he will learn the truth of Bion's dictum, that all the activities of men are like their beginnings, and their life is not more high-souled or serious than their conception, and that being born from nothing they are reduced to nothing. Yet it is preferable to accept calmly public behaviour and human failings, and not to collapse into either laughter or tears. For to be tormented by other people's troubles means perpetual misery, while to take delight in them is an inhuman pleasure; just as it is an empty show of kindness to weep and assume a solemn look because somebody is burying a son. In your own troubles too, the appropriate conduct is to indulge as much grief as nature, not custom, demands: for many people weep in order to be seen weeping, though their eyes are dry as long as there is nobody looking, since they regard it as bad form not to weep when everyone is weeping. This evil of taking our cue from others has become so deeply ingrained that even that most basic feeling, grief, degenerates into imitation.

We must next look at a category of occurrences which with good reason cause us grief and anxiety. When good men come to a bad end, when Socrates is compelled to die in prison and Rutilius to live in exile, when Pompey and Cicero have to offer their necks to their clients, when Cato, that living pattern of the virtues, has to fall on his sword to show the world what is happening to himself and the state at the same time; then we have to feel anguish that Fortune hands out such unfair rewards. And what can each of us then hope for himself when he sees the best men suffering the worst fates? What follows then? Observe how each of those men bore his fate; and if they were brave, long with your spirit for a spirit like theirs; if they died with womanly cowardice, then nothing died with them. Either they are worthy of your admiration for their courage or unworthy of your longing for their cowardice. For what is more disgraceful than if supremely great men by dying bravely make others fearful? Let us repeatedly praise one who deserves praise and let us say: 'The braver one is, the happier he is! You have escaped all mischances, envy and disease; you have come forth from prison — not that you seemed to the gods worthy of ill fortune, but unworthy that Fortune should any longer have power over you.' But we have to lay hands on those who pull back and at the very point of death look back towards life. I shall weep for no one who is happy and for no one who is weeping: the one has himself wiped away my tears; the other by his own tears has proved himself unworthy of any. Should I weep for Hercules because he was burned alive, or Regulus because he was pierced by all those nails, or Cato because he wounded his own wounds? All of them by giving up a brief spell of time found the way to become eternal, and by dying achieved immortality.

There is also another not inconsiderable source of anxieties, if you are too concerned to assume a pose and do not reveal yourself openly to anyone, like many people whose lives are false and aimed only at outward show. For it is agonizing always to be watching yourself in fear of being caught when your usual mask has slipped. Nor can we ever be carefree when we think that whenever we are observed we are appraised; for many things happen to strip us of our pretensions against our will, and even if all this attention to oneself succeeds, yet the life of those who always live behind a mask is not pleasant or free from care. On the contrary, how full of pleasure is that honest and naturally unadorned simplicity that in no way hides its disposition! Yet this life too runs a risk of being scorned if everything is revealed to everybody; for with some people familiarity breeds contempt. But there is no danger of virtue being held cheap as a result of close observation, and it is better to be despised for simplicity than to suffer agonies from everlasting pretence. Still, let us use moderation here: there is a big difference between living simply and living carelessly.

We should also withdraw a lot into ourselves; for associating with people unlike ourselves upsets a calm disposition, stirs up passions again, and aggravates any mental weakness which has not been completely cured. However, the two things must be mingled and varied, solitude and joining a crowd: the one will make us long for people and the other for ourselves, and each will be a remedy for the other; solitude will cure our distaste for a crowd, and a crowd will cure our boredom with solitude.

The mind should not be kept continuously at the same pitch of concentration, but given amusing diversions. Socrates did not blush to play with small children; Cato soothed his mind with wine when it was tired from the cares of state; and Scipio used to disport that triumphal and military form in the dance, not shuffling about delicately in the present style, when even in walking men mince and wriggle with more than effeminate voluptuousness, but in the old-fashioned, manly style in which men danced at times of games and festivals, without loss of dignity even if their enemies were watching them. Our minds must relax: they will rise better and keener after a rest. Just as you must not force fertile farmland, as uninterrupted productivity will soon exhaust it, so constant effort will sap our mental vigour, while a short period of rest and relaxation will restore our powers. Unremitting effort leads to a kind of mental dullness and lethargy. Nor would men's wishes move so much in this direction if sport and play did not involve a sort of natural pleasure; though repeated indulgence in these will destroy all the gravity and force of our minds. After all, sleep too is essential as a restorative, but if you prolong it constantly day and night it will be death. There is a big difference between slackening your hold on something and severing the link. Law-givers established holidays to give people a public mandate to enjoy themselves, thinking it necessary to introduce a sort of balance into their labours; and, as I said, certain great men gave themselves monthly holidays on fixed days, while others divided every day into periods of leisure and work. I remember that this was the practice of the great orator Asinius Pollio, whom nothing kept at work after the tenth hour. After that time he would not even read his letters, in case something fresh cropped up to be dealt with; but in those two hours he would rid himself of the weariness of the whole day. Some take a break in the middle of the day and keep any less demanding task for the afternoon hours. Our ancestors also forbad any new motion to be introduced in the senate after the tenth hour. The army divides the watches, and those who are returning from an expedition are exempt from night duty. We must indulge the mind and from time to time allow it the leisure which is its food and strength. We must go for walks out of doors, so that the mind can be strengthened and invigorated by a clear sky and plenty of fresh air. At times it will acquire fresh energy from a journey by carriage and a change of scene, or from socializing and drinking freely. Occasionally we should even come to the point of intoxication, sinking into drink but not being totally flooded by it; for it does wash away cares, and stirs the mind to its depths, and heals sorrow just as it heals certain diseases. Liber was not named because he loosens the tongue, but because he liberates the mind from its slavery to cares, emancipates it, invigorates it, and emboldens it for all its undertakings. But there is a healthy moderation in wine, as in liberty. Solon and Arcesilas are thought to have liked their wine, and Cato has been accused of drunkenness; whoever accused him will more easily make the charge honourable than Cato disgraceful. But we must not do this often, in case the mind acquires a bad habit; yet at times it must be stimulated to rejoice without restraint and austere soberness must be banished for a while. For whether we agree with the Greek poet that 'Sometimes it is sweet to be mad,' or with Plato that 'A man sound in mind knocks in vain at the doors of poetry,' or with Aristotle that 'No great intellect has been without a touch of madness,' only a mind that is deeply stirred can utter something noble and beyond the power of others. When it has scorned everyday and commonplace thoughts and risen aloft on the wings of divine inspiration, only then does it sound a note nobler than mortal voice could utter. As long as it remains in its senses it cannot reach any lofty and difficult height: it must desert the usual track and race away, champing the bit and hurrying its driver in its course to a height it would have feared to scale by itself.

So here you have, my dear Serenus, the means of preserving your tranquillity, the means of restoring it, and the means of resisting the faults that creep up on you unawares. But be sure of this, that none of them is strong enough for those who want to preserve such a fragile thing, unless the wavering mind is surrounded by attentive and unceasing care.

注释

〔1〕 A friend of Seneca's.

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企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

论世间苦难

（英汉双语）

［德］阿图尔·叔本华　著

R.J.霍林代尔　英译　刘彤　汉译

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论世间苦难

论存在之虚无

论自在之物及其表象的对立

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论世间苦难

1

如果我们生活的直接目的并非受苦，那我们的存在就是世界上与其目的最不相符的东西。世间充斥痛苦，欲求产生痛苦，这样如影随形、无穷无尽的悲苦困窘竟然毫无意义、纯属偶然，这样的设想未免荒谬。的确，个别的不幸是偶发事件，但不幸就总体而言却是定则。

2

正如一条平缓流动、无所遮挡的河，随顺己愿的，我们从不注意或觉察，这是人和动物的天性；若我们需注意到什么，则我们的意志必先遭遇挫折，必先经历某种震惊。反之，举凡与意志相违、相妨、相抗，即一切不快不幸之事，总是立刻引起我们重视，清楚直接。周身无恙，我们了无所知；但当方寸之躯被鞋夹痛，我们不去想整体的成功，反倒只想细枝末节，或那些不断激扰我们的事物。有鉴于此，我常要人注意：安乐幸福是否定性的概念，痛苦则是肯定性的概念。

因此，几乎所有形而上学都把恶解释成某种否定性的东西，这是我了解到的最荒谬之事。因为恶恰恰是肯定性的，是不言自明的；而善，即幸福安乐，则是否定性的，无非是欲望的停止或痛苦的消除。

另一个证据是：通常我们感觉，快乐并不像我们所向往的那样强烈，而痛苦要比预料的强烈得多。

有人宣称，世间快乐多于痛苦，或两者至少相抵。欲验其真伪，可作一简单比较：一只动物正大嚼猎物，则食肉者与被食者的感受孰强孰弱？

3

每有悲苦不幸，最有效的安慰即是观察他人之不幸尤甚于我，此法人人可行。但就人类整体的不幸而言，这又有什么意义？

历史向我们展现了列国的存亡，但除战争与骚乱以外别无可述，和平年代只是偶尔出现的短暂间隙和插曲。同样，个体的生命也是无休止的斗争，不仅是与譬喻意义上的欲求和无聊的斗争，更是与他人实实在在的斗争。环顾皆是敌人，争斗永无止息，他至死仍剑不离手。

4

在纠缠我们的种种苦恼中，时间的逼迫是重要的一个。时间从不容我们喘息片刻，而是执鞭追赶，有如监工。除非我们被交付给无聊，否则时间不会停止迫害。

5

若无大气压力，我们的身体就会炸为碎片；同样，我们的生活若无欲求、劳役、灾祸和挫败的压迫，人的自大心理也会膨胀，即便不会爆炸，也会发展为最放肆的愚蠢，乃至疯狂。甚至可以说，我们时刻需要一些烦恼、悲伤或欲求，正如船只需要压舱的货物使之直线前进。

苦扰悲辛确是贯穿几乎所有人生活的运命。然而，如果一有欲望即能满足，问题随之而来：人该如何填补生活，该如何打发时间？设想一下：人类迁移到某个世外桃源，那里万物自由生长，烤熟的火鸡飞来飞去，相爱的人一眼就找到对方，并安安稳稳长相厮守，那么，一些人会无聊至死或者上吊自杀，一些人会挑起争斗，互相杀戮，这样他们就会人为地制造苦难，比大自然施加给我们的苦难更多。因此对于这样一个物种来说，现有的生存状态和生存形式再合适不过了。

6

如上文重申，满足和安乐是否定性的，而苦难是肯定性的，因此，衡量一种生活幸福与否，不应根据其中的快乐和满足有多多，而应根据肯定性因素即苦难有多少。虽然如此，动物的命运要比人的命运更可忍受。让我们对两者略加详查。

不管人类的苦乐形式如何多样，如何引诱人们舍此逐彼，苦乐的物质基础都是肉体的快感和痛苦。这一基础范围很窄，包括拥有或没有健康、食物、不受寒冷和潮湿侵袭的环境，以及性欲的满足。所以，人并不比动物享有更多的肉体快感，只不过是他更加发达的神经系统强化了每一种快感，如同强化每一种痛感一样。他心中涌起的情感要比动物强烈多少倍，他的激情要比动物深刻浓烈多少倍，根本无法相提并论！而最终他得到的无非是同样的东西：健康、食物、蔽身之所，诸如此类。

之所以如此，最重要的原因是，因为顾及未有的和未来的，他的一切都得到了极大的强化，这实际上是烦恼、恐惧和希望的根源。这些情绪一旦激起，对人的影响就会远远大于当下的实际苦乐——动物的感官即仅限于此。由于缺少反思能力，在动物身上不会像人那样，快乐和悲伤通过记忆和预期累积起来。在动物那里，当下的痛苦不管重复多少次，都和最初时一样——痛苦不会累加。因此，动物所特有的沉着和冷漠令人羡慕。而在人那里，从那些与动物相同的苦乐因素中，产生了感官对幸福和苦楚的强化。这种强化能让幸福瞬间达到极致，有时足以致人死命，也能把苦楚引向生不如死的绝望。更进一步考虑，事实情况是，最初人的需求并不比动物的需求更难满足，但人刻意地去强化自己的需求以强化其快乐，这样才有了奢侈品、甜点、烟草、鸦片、酒、服饰及相关的一切。在此之上，同样由于反思，又加入了一种先是引起快乐，后又招致痛苦，为他所独有的东西，他对此痴迷不已，远远超过此外的一切。这种东西就是野心及荣辱感，简言之，他认为别人眼中自己的形象。这个形象表现不一，往往千奇百怪，超越肉体的苦乐，成为他一切努力的目标。的确，他比动物更能享受智力的乐趣。这些乐趣程度不一，从简单的玩笑和交谈到思维的最高成就。但与此相抵消的是，无聊与痛苦相伴而行。动物不知无聊为何物，至少自然状态的动物是如此，极为聪明的驯养动物对无聊也只略知一二；但对人类来说，无聊却堪称苦刑。欲求和无聊确是人生的两极。最后还要提到的是，人的性欲满足局限在很偏执的对象上，有时强化成热烈的爱情；因此对人来说，性带来的欢乐很短暂，痛苦却很漫长。

令人惊异的是，仅仅有了动物没有的思想，人本该在动物同样具有的简单的苦与乐基础上，建构起深广得多的幸福和不幸，本该任由强烈的情绪、激情和战栗印在他脸上，留下长存的皱纹，但事实却是，他能得到的动物也能得到，而动物付出的情感代价要小得无法与之相比。不过，因为有了思想，人的痛苦程度远大于快乐。人真正懂得死亡是怎么回事，这更极大地加剧了痛苦，而动物并不真正懂得死亡的意义，所以死亡从不在其视野之内，而不像人类那样总是想着死，因此只是本能地逃避死亡。

动物对活着本身要比人类知足得多，植物则完全如此，而人的知足程度取决于他的无聊程度和麻木程度。故此，动物的生命较之人类，包含更少的痛苦，也包含更少的欢乐。直接原因是：一方面，动物不受烦恼和忧虑的影响，也没有随之产生的种种折磨；另一方面，动物没有希望，也就没有对美好未来的憧憬，以及相伴而生的想象力的蛊惑——这些都是极苦和至乐之源。动物不去希望也从不忧虑，因为它们的意识局限在清楚直接的东西之上，因此也就局限在现在——动物是现时的化身。不过正因为如此，动物在无忧无虑安享现时这一方面与我们相比堪称真正的睿智。它们身上这种突出的沉静让常常骚动不满的我们羞愧不已。

7

如果上述讨论证明，人的一生比动物更为痛苦，是因为他们的认知能力更强，那我们现在可以进而推求更普遍的规律，从而形成更为全面的见解。

知识本身永远是没有痛苦的。痛苦只对意志产生作用，存在于意志的受阻、受妨或受挫；不过，意志的受挫若被感知为痛苦，必有认识相伴而行。这就是为什么连生理痛苦也总是受制于神经及其与大脑的连接，因此如果连接肢体与大脑的神经被切断，或大脑本身受到氯仿的毒害而失去活力，那么肢体受伤也不会被感觉到。精神痛苦受认识影响自不待言，痛苦随认识程度而加深也显而易见。这样我们就可以打一个比方形容整个关系：意志是琴弦，意志受挫或受妨是琴弦的振动，认识是共鸣板，痛苦则是发出的声音。

这意味着不止无机物不能感知痛苦，植物也是如此，不管遭受多少挫折。另一方面，所有动物，包括纤毛虫，都会体验到痛苦。这是因为动物的本质特点是认识，无论认识多么不完善。动物的生命每高一等，痛苦就相应增加一级。但即便是最高级的动物也不可能感知人所感知的痛苦，因为即使最高级的动物也没有思想和观念。不错，痛苦的强度达到顶点时，也可能用理性否定意志——若非如此，那将是毫无意义，残忍至极。

8

弱冠之时，我们坐在未来的人生前，如同孩子坐在戏院的幕布前，对将要发生的一切满怀欣喜，充满期待。幸而我们并不知道上演的究竟会是什么。因为对知道的人来说，孩子们有时就像蒙冤的罪犯，被判处的不是死刑，而是终身监禁，而他们对刑罚的内容还全未觉察。虽然如此，每个人都渴望活到老年，到那时候他就可以说：“今天很糟，还会一天天糟下去，直到最后糟得不可救药。”

9

若有可能，想象一下阳光普照之处的一切困窘、痛苦和磨难你就会承认，假如太阳为地球带来的生命迹象像月球上那样少，地球和月球一样还处在结晶状态，那情况将要好得多。

你也可将我们的生命视为一段不和谐的插曲，打乱了天赐的虚无宁静。无论何时何地，即便是认为生活尚可忍受的人，活得越久，越会清楚地了解，生活就整体而言是一个挫败，不，是一场骗局。如果年轻时的好友多年后重逢，过去时光犹在眼前，那相见时两人心中涌起的最强烈的感觉是对人生彻底的失望。在青春岁月玫瑰色的黎明里，人生曾显得那么美好，它许诺的那么多，兑现的又那么少。这种感觉会牢牢地抓住他们，以致他们甚至觉得不值一提，只是默默地将它作为谈话的基调。

若生殖行为不是欲望的产物，也不伴随快感，而是一件纯由理性决定的事情，人类是否还会继续存在？我们每个人是否会对未来一代充满悲悯，乃至宁愿让他们不至背负生活的重担，或希望至少不是自己将重担无情地压在下一代身上？

因为世界是地狱，人一方面是受苦的灵魂，另一方面又是地狱里的魔鬼。

据说梵天因忽然堕落或因错误而创造世界，为赎清此罪恶或错误，不得不存于世界当中，直到他将自身从世界中解救出去。说得非常好！依佛教说，涅槃状态胜妙湛然，长久宁静之后，不知何故受到染污，世界由此生成。因此，世界起源出于定数，这一点应主要从道德意义上理解——虽然物质世界的起源与此完全相同，太古时期不知何故产生雾带，太阳由此产生。尽管如此，因为世界由罪而成，所以物质世界不断变坏，直至今日这可悲的境地。说得妙极了！对希腊人来说，世界及诸神受造于不可解的必然性，这聊备一说。阿胡拉·玛兹达与安格拉·曼纽【1】征战不断，这也值得思考一下。但像耶和华这样的神主动自愿地创造这样一个充满欲望和苦痛的世界，甚而以此为荣，称此为善，这就未免让人难以接受了。

即便莱布尼茨的论证是对的，在所有可能产生的世界中，现在的世界是最好的，这仍旧不能证明神爱世人。因为造物主不仅创造世界，也创造了可能性本身，因此他本可以创造出更好世界的可能。

不过总的说来，世界是一个至慧、至善且有至高权能的存在的成功之作，这个观点会遭到两件事实的大声反对：世界充满苦难，并且世界上最高级的现象——人——明显是不完美的，人实则是怪诞的漫画人物。这是一种无法解决的矛盾。恰恰相反，正是这些事例支持我们刚才说的，证明我们对世界的看法是正确的：世界是我们自身罪恶的产物，因此最好压根就不存在。根据上述的推理，这些实例成了对造物主的有力控诉，为愤世嫉俗提供了素材；而根据我们的推理，这些实例成了对我们自己本性和意志的控诉，并集合起来教会我们谦卑。因为这些事例引导我们达到这样一个观点：我们就像浪荡儿所生的孩子，来到世界上已经负罪累累，正因为我们必须不断赎清此罪，我们的存在才会这样卑微，存在的终点才会是死亡。总的说来，正是世间之罪导致了多种多样、深重难耐的世间之苦，这一点再明确不过，此处所说不是物质—经验的联系，而是形而上的联系。亚当夏娃堕落的故事因此是唯一能让我接受《旧约》的东西，我甚至认为这是《旧约》中唯一的形而上的真实，尽管它披着寓言的外衣——因为我们的存在最像是恶行的苦果，对禁忌之欲的惩罚。

要有效地指引我们生活方向，最有用的是调整自己，把世界当作赎罪之所，流放之地。这样做，你就会根据事物的本质规范自己的期望，充分了解到我们每个人都在此间为自己的存在而受罚，每个人都有自己的受罚方式，而不再把生活中的苦痛祸乱当作不正常的东西而希望它们并不存在，而是觉得它们都是适当、合理的。这样的观点能让我们不惊奇，当然也不愤慨地看待大多数人所谓的弊端，如道德和智力的缺点，以及由此表现出来的现象——因为我们应该时刻记住我们的位置，并由此首先把生存着的每个人看作是罪孽的产物，被生下来是一种罪孽，每个人的生活都是对这种罪孽的补偿。

相信世界本不该存在，因而人也不该存在，事实上会教会我们彼此宽容：置身我们这样的处境，又能对他人做何希求？因此真该考虑一下，人们见面时的问候不应该是“先生”，而应是“同病相怜的兄弟”。这听起来虽很古怪，但切合现实，让我们看清他人，提醒我们最必要之事：宽容、耐心、忍耐和慈悲，这些是我们每个人都需要也都应当给予的。

论存在之虚无

1

存在的虚无体现在存在的整体形式上：时空无际，时空中的个体却有穷；现时稍纵即逝，却是现实性的唯一体现；偶然性和相对性存在于万事万物；永远都在趋近，却永远无法到达；永远都在欲求，却永远无法满足；人生的奋斗总是遭遇挫败。生存意志本如自在之物长存不坏，但时间使得其间的万物短暂易朽，生存意志发现的只是奋斗的徒劳。赖时间之故，万物在我们手中化为乌有，丧失一切真正价值，这就是时间。

2

不再存在的和未曾存在的一样，几乎算不上存在，但将在下一刻存在的必定曾经存在，因此，最重要的现时要比最重要的过去更具现实性，前者与后者的关系乃是有与无的关系。

令我们吃惊的是，在不曾存在无数世代以后，我们突然存在了，片刻之后，我们又将不复存在无数世代。事情不应该是这样，心灵这样说。即便蒙昧之人想到这里也会希望，时间不过是一种观念。不过，时间和空间一样，是所有真正的形而上学的关键，因为它容许一种与自然秩序截然不同的事物秩序。这正是康德的伟大之处。

我们生命中的每一刻只短暂地属于当下，然后就永远地归于过去。一到傍晚，我们就又少了一天。若不是我们在生命的最深处隐隐感到：我们分得了不竭的永恒之泉，从中我们总能获取新的生命、新的时间，那么，眼见短促的生命一潮一潮退去，我们几乎会发狂。

你的确可以认同这样的说法：最高的智慧是享受现时，并以此为生活的目标，因为现时是唯一真实的，其他一切都是假象。但你也可以将这种生活方式称为最大的愚蠢，因为现时转瞬即逝，像梦一样消失无踪，不值得为此大费周章。

3

我们的存在仅停留在短暂的现在，此外别无所依。因此，存在的本质形式是无休止的动荡，我们不断寻求的安宁无从获得——就像一个人跑步下山，停下脚步就会跌倒，要保持不倒只能跑个不停；或像在指尖保持平衡的杆木；或像一颗行星，若不再拼命向前疾奔，就会跌入太阳中去。生命的特点就是这样迁流不定。

如此世间，稳定恒常了不可得，万物变动不居，混乱不堪，只能大步向前，才不会从高空吊索坠落。如此世间，幸福不值一想。在这只有柏拉图所谓“永远趋近，永远无法到达”的地方，幸福没有安身之所。首先，每个人都不幸福，用一生时间苦苦追寻心目中的幸福却很少得到，即便得到也会失望。然而，他照例终归会驶入港口，船倾桅折。其次，生命仅是一连串的短促现时，现在又已到尽头，幸与不幸没有区别。

4

我们生命的图景犹如胡乱拼凑的图画，近看粗陋，要想显得美，只能远观。这就是为什么所求之物一旦获得即觉空虚，这就是为什么尽管我们一生都在希求更好的事物，同时也经常对过去恋恋不舍。相反，现时被认为是暂时的，只是通往目的的途径。因此，大多数人回首一生时都会发现，自己一直活在过渡状态，他们吃惊地看到，他们放手的正是自己的生命，正是他们生活中期望的东西。

5

生命首先表现为一个任务，保有自身的任务，即糊口。若此任务完成，所得的便成了负担，于是有了第二个任务：做些什么，以赶走猎禽般盘旋在安定生活之上的无聊。于是，第一个任务是得到什么，第二个任务是忘记所得的，否则所得的便成了负担。

人的生命必是一个错误，这只需略加考察即可证明：人是各种难以满足的需求的集合体，需求的满足别无他物，只是无痛苦的状态，人被无聊所占据；无聊直接证明：存在本身没有价值，因为无聊无非是对存在之虚无的感受。如果生命，以欲求为我们本性和存在的生命，本具正面价值和真正内涵，便不会有无聊一事，存在本身即能令我们完整和满足。实际情况却是，我们从存在本身并不能获得乐趣，除非我们在追求什么，这样由于遥不可及、困难重重，我们的目标就显得似乎能够令我们满足（而一旦获得，这种假象即告破灭）；或者除非我们正从事纯智力的活动，这样实际上我们置身生活之外远观，犹如戏院里的看客。即便感官愉悦本身也存在于不断的追求之中，目标一旦实现，愉悦随即消失。我们若非从事上述这样或那样的活动，而是回到存在本身，我们便被存在的虚无和徒劳所左右，这种感觉就叫做无聊。

6

人体组织极为精巧复杂，生存意志的体现莫过于此。人体终将化为齑粉，全部本质、所有努力付诸毁灭——这是大自然明确无误的宣告：意志努力求生，却终归徒劳。若努力本身是有价值的，是理应无条件存在的，则努力的结果绝不应该是消亡。

但我们的开场和收场又有怎样的不同！开场时我们纵情声色，收场时我们肢体分解，死填沟壑。就安适和享受而言，由此至彼之路也一落千丈：快乐梦想着的童年，意气风发的青年，劳碌奔波的成年，虚弱间或悲惨的老年，致命疾病的折磨，最后是死亡的剧痛——难道存在看起来不像一个错误，其恶果渐次昭彰？

我们应尽力把生活看成一个泡影，一个幻灭的过程，因为显然，我们所经历的一切累积起来都在制造幻灭。

论自在之物及其表象的对立

1

自在之物指独立存在于我们感官之外的东西，即实际存在的东西。德谟克里特称其为物质，洛克【2】也大抵如此，对康德来说它等于X，对我来说它是意志。

2

我们对地球的了解仅限于表层，而不是内部广大坚硬的部分。同样，我们依照经验对事物及世界的了解仅是其表象，即其表层。对表象的精确认识构成了最广义的物理学。但表象存在的前提是有一个同时具有面积和体积的内层，并可推论出该内层具有某种性质，这两点是形而上学的主题。力图根据表象的规律获知自在之物的本质，这就像从面积及其定律获知体积一样。每一种教条的先验哲学都想从表象的规律认识自在之物，这就像想让两个截然不同的物体重合一样，必定会失败，因为不管怎么摆弄，总有这个角或那个角露出来。

3

事物既是表象又是自在之物，所以也就有两种解释：物理学和形而上学的。物理学用因果律加以解释，形而上学则用意志加以解释。同一个东西，在无知无觉的自然中称为自然力，在更高一级被称为生命力，在动物和人那里就称为意志。因此严格说来，人的智力及品质的高下与好恶也许可以追溯到纯物理的原因——智力可追溯到大脑和神经系统的构造，以及影响大脑和神经的血液循环；道德品质可追溯到心脏、脉管、血液、肺、肝、脾、肾、肠、生殖器等的构造及综合作用。这样做肯定需要更确切地了解物理学和伦理学的规律，远远超过比沙和卡巴尼斯【3】掌握的知识。某人的智力和道德品质可进而追溯到更远的原因，即其父母的构造，前提是父母提供的种子造就的生命与他们类似，而非更高级或者更好。相反，形而上学必须把同一个人看作其意志幽灵般的化身，该意志完全自由，无比重要，造就了为自身服务、与自身适应的智力。因此，人之所为必从己出，无论他是否一时糊涂，迷失本性，或肉体软弱使然。

4

考量自然生物的生存及习性时，比方说，一个动物站在我们面前，尽管我们有动物学和畜牧学的知识，它仍是一个不解之谜。那么，自然非要如此执拗，对我们的质询充耳不闻？难道自然不像所有伟大之物一样，坦荡、直率，甚至一派天真？自然不予作答，是因为我们问错了问题，因为问题出自错误的假设，因为问题包含矛盾，岂有别故哉！若自然本不可解，永不可解，自然中怎会存在因果关联？不，绝非如此。自然不可解，是因为我们在无因果处强求因果。我们力图抵达自然的本质，借助充足理由律，每一个现象似乎都在透露自然的本质，然而，这无非是我们的智力对表象（即事物表层）的理解方式。在表象的范畴内，因果适用有效；但我们却想将其应用于表象的范畴以外。例如，在表象的范畴内，一只动物的存在可以解释为生殖行为，这其实只是一个最简单的因果推论，没什么神秘可言，这一解释完全打破了不可知的状态。就生殖而言，我们尚缺几个因果联系的环节，但这并没有实质差别，因为即便我们不缺，我们最终仍要站在不可知面前，因为表象就是表象，它变不成自在之物。

5

我们抱怨说，生活一团暗昧，我们并不了解整体存在的本质，尤其是我们自身与其他存在的关系。人生短暂，我们的认识也完全受限于短暂的人生，因为我们既不能追溯生前，亦不能看穿死后，因此吾人之意识如同闪电，只是短暂地照亮夜空。好像有邪灵恶意关闭了我们获取更多认识的大门，以我们的挫折为乐。

但此类抱怨并不合理，因为它来自一种幻想，幻想又出自错误的前提，即认为事物之整体出自智力，因此在成为现实之前，作为理式而存在。由此前提出发，事物之整体因出自认识范畴，便全然可知，全然可解，可为知识所穷尽，但事实恐非如此。我们抱怨所不知的，任何人均无所知，甚或根本无从得知，即不能被觉知。理式乃认识所由，认识所系，但仅是存在的外层，是次要辅助之物，换言之，理式之必要，并非对于事物整体之保有，仅是对于动物个体的延续。因此，事物的整体存在进入认识范畴纯属偶然，程度亦颇为有限——如果动物意识是一幅画，它仅是画的背景，而意志之所求才是关键，位居画面前景。因为偶然，产生了时空世界，即理式世界，此世界在认识范畴之外根本不会存在。既然认识的存在仅是为了动物个体的延续，那么认识的全部构造和所有形式，如时间和空间，亦仅是为个体之目的所造。要达成目的，仅需了解个别现象之间的关系，不必了解事物的本质及普遍整体。

康德曾言，或多或少困扰我们每个人的形而上学问题没有直接的答案，也没有满意的解决方法。究其原因，这些问题源于我们的智力形式：时间、空间及因果关系，而智力原为个体意志规定动机，即说明意欲的对象及占有的方法。一旦智力被滥用，引向事物的存在本身，引向世界的整体和内在构成，则上述智力形式——事物间的相邻、相续、相关——即产生种种形而上问题，如起因与目的、世界及个人的始与终，个体死后的消亡或存续、意志的自由，等等。不妨假设，这些形式一旦消除，对事物的意识却仍存在，那么此类问题便不是悬而未决，而是根本不存在——这些问题将彻底消失，表述问题的语句将毫无意义，因为此类语句完全来自这些形式，而这些形式的目的不是理解世界及存在，仅是理解我们自身的愿望。

这种看待问题的方式，解释并客观证明了康德的理论，而康德对他的理论仅从主观角度加以证明。康德认为，因果形式只能应用于世俗领域，不能应用于超验领域。不妨换一个角度：智力是形而下的，不是形而上的，因为智力从属于意志的客观化，来源于意志，仅为服务意志而存在。然而，智力的作用仅限于自然中的事物，而不是自然之外之上的事物。显然，动物的智力只为发现和获取食物，智力的发达程度取决于这种目的。人也没什么两样，只不过人保有和延续自身更难，欲望不断膨胀，因此需要更发达的智力。仅当智力超越常规，摆脱意志的奴役时，智力才有富余，当富余达到一定程度时，就叫做天才。这样的头脑首先是客观的，但也可以更进一步，某种程度上成为形而上的，或至少努力成为形而上的，因为智力保持客观的结果是，自然本身即事物整体成为智力的考察对象。在这样的智力里，自然第一次认识到：自身存在，但也可不存在，或以其他形式存在。而在平平无奇的智力中，自然不能清晰地觉知自身，正如磨坊主听不到自己的研磨机的声音，或香料生产商闻不到香料的气味。寻常智力囿于自然，认为自然是理所当然之事；只有灵光一闪时，它才能感知到自然，对其所见大感惊奇，但惊奇感随即消失。这样平庸的头脑就算成千上万，在哲学上能取得怎样的成绩也就不难想见了。但如果智力源自形而上学，以形而上学为使命，就能推动哲学的发展，正如推动其他科学的发展。这样的智力越多，推动作用就越强。

论对生存意志的肯定与否定

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造就世间现象的，也能不如此作为，乃至不作为，这可以说是一个显而易见的公理，总的说来不言自明。倘若前一种状态构成了生命中有所求的现象，那么后一种状态则构成了无所求的现象，这实际上等同于吠檀多哲学的深睡境和佛教的涅槃。

否定生存意志绝不意味着物质的消亡，仅仅意味着无欲无求——先前不断欲求的不再欲求。意志如同自在之物，我们只能通过欲求行为来了解。因此，无求之后，意志为何物，会做些什么，我们既不能言说也无法觉察。因此否定生存意志对我们而言，是从有到无的转变，我们是欲求的现象。

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希腊伦理学和印度教伦理学之间存在着明显的对立，前者的目标（虽然柏拉图除外）是实现幸福的生活，有福的生活，而后者的目标则相反，《数论颂》开篇便直言：要彻底从生活中解救出去。

还有一个类似的对立，因其直观而更加突出：你在佛罗伦萨的美术馆里看到美丽的古代石棺，上面用轻快的笔触描绘整个婚礼的仪式，从最初的求婚到婚姻之神用火炬照亮通向婚房的道路；接着比较一下基督教的棺材，上有十字架象征悲痛，盖着黑色帘幕，其间的反差极为明显。两者都渴望在面对死亡时提供安慰，两者方法相反，但都是正确的。一个表达的是对生存意志的肯定，不管生活的面貌如何瞬息变幻，生活永远受到肯定；另一个则通过苦难和死亡的符号来表达对生存意志的否定，以及从死亡和撒旦统治之下的世界抽身而出的救赎。古希腊—罗马异教与基督教之间真正的精神对立是肯定生存意志和否定生存意志，这是基督教的唯一可取之处。

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我的伦理学与其他欧洲哲学家的伦理学，两者关系正是教会意义上《新约》和《旧约》的关系。《旧约》把人置于律法之下，但律法并不能带来救赎。相反，《新约》宣布律法是不够的，实则把人从对律法的遵从中解放出来。【4】《新约》宣扬神的恩典以取代律法，人可通过信仰、善心和彻底否定自我进入神恩的国度。《新约》称，这是脱罪与出世之路，因为撇开新教徒和唯理论者不论，《新约》的真正灵魂无疑是苦行的精神。这种苦行的精神正是对生存意志的否定，从《旧约》到《新约》的转变，从律法至上到信仰至上的转变，从因德释罪到因信得救，从受罪与死的统治到在基督中永生，严格说来表明了从单纯提倡美德到否定生存意志的转变。在我之前，所有的哲学伦理学无论呈现什么面貌，都紧抓住《旧约》精神不放——《旧约》设定了既无根基也无趣向的绝对道德律令，所含道德诫条和禁忌之后，悄然引入了一个独断专行的耶和华。相反，我的伦理学有根基、有目标、有趣向，最重要的，它从理论上阐明了正义与善良的形而上学基础，并进一步说明若实施得当将最终导致什么样的结果。同时，它坦言世界的可憎本质，并指出解脱之道即在于否定意志。因此，我的伦理学实则是《新约》的精神，此外的一切伦理学都属《旧约》精神，甚至在理论上等同于犹太教，即赤裸裸的暴戾的一神论。就此而言，我的学说可以称为真正的基督教哲学，不管在舍深刻而取浅薄的人眼中，这种说法如何自相矛盾。

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稍加深思即可发现，欲成为罪，并非因为欲望之间偶然碰撞而招致伤害和罪恶。如果欲望产生的就是这样的后果，那它必然从一开始就根本是有罪的，整个生存意志都应该摈弃。世间充斥的残忍和磨难，实际上只是生存意志以各种形式客观化的必然结果，因此只是肯定生存意志的注脚。人必有死，这证明我们的存在本身蕴含有罪。

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如若从自在之物出发，从生存意志出发来理解世界，你会发现世界的核心和重中之重即生殖行为。相反，若你从表象世界、经验世界和理式世界出发，又会有怎样的不同！这里生殖行为被看作是全然孤立的、单独的、次要的，被看作二等事物而应掩盖和隐藏，被看作自相矛盾的反常行为，只是源源不断地提供笑料。然而，对我们来说，这只不过是撒旦在伪装他的把戏——难道人们没有注意到，性欲是这个高尚世界最高明的骗术，只为某个女人钟情痴迷之时尤为如此，因为它承诺的太多，给予的又少得可怜。

女人在生殖行为中的角色从某种程度上说要比男人更加无辜，因为男人给予孩子意志，这是最初之罪，因此也是一切恶的源头；而女人给予孩子认识，这开辟了救赎之路。生殖行为是宇宙的交点，它宣布：“生存意志又一次得到了肯定。”妊娠和受孕则宣布：“在意志之上，又一次加入了认识之光。”这样，认识再一次找到了出离世界的道路，救赎的希望再一次成为可能。

这正说明一个明显的事实：若被人撞见其性行为，每个女人都会羞愧得宁可死去，但怀胎时她们却无一丝羞愧，甚至带着骄傲。原因在于，性交之罪在某种程度上被怀孕取消了，因此性交承载了两性关系的所有羞耻和丑陋，而怀孕虽与性交密切相关，却始终保持纯洁无辜，甚至有些神圣。

性交主要是男人之事，怀孕完全是女人之事。孩子从父亲那里继承意志和性格，从母亲那里继承智力。后者是解脱之门，前者是禁锢之锁。性交标志着不管认识取得多少进步，生存意志仍旧存在于时间之中；生存意志成为新的肉身，标志着在意志之上，又一次加入了明亮的认识之光，又一次有了救赎的可能，其标志即是怀孕。因此，怀孕光荣坦荡，任行无碍；性交则自动遁形，像一个罪犯。

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不义之行，邪恶之举，就施行者而言，表明对生存意志的肯定有多强，因此也就标志着他离真正的解脱——即对生存意志的否定——以及出脱世间，还有多远，求知之路还有多长，苦难还有多久；就忍受者而言，尽管恶行在形而下意义上是恶的，在形而上学意义上却是善的，就实质而言则是有益的，因为这些行为助他走上真正的解脱之路。

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世界精神：因此，这就是你劳作和受苦的目的，是你存在的目的，也是此外种种存在的目的。

人：但我从生存中能够获得什么？生存若是充盈的，我得到的只是悲苦；若是空虚的，我得到的只有无聊。我付出那么多辛苦，受到那么多折磨，你能给我的却少得可怜。

世界精神：惟其贫乏，这种报酬对你的辛劳和苦恼来说才是合适的。

人：怎么会这样！我理解不了。

世界精神：我知道。（旁白）我是否要告诉他生活的价值正在于此，即教他停止对生活的欲求？因为应由生活亲自教会他这一最重要的入门仪式。

论我们的本质存在不能被死亡摧毁

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你应该读读让·保罗的《塞利娜》，看一看最聪明的头脑如何试图处理它误以为荒谬的问题——他固守一个错误观念不肯抛弃，尽管无法忍受其荒谬，一直深受困扰。【5】这一观念即是我们每个人的意识在死后保持原样，继续存在。让·保罗的这种挣扎和纠结表明：此类真假参半的观念并不像想象中的那样，是有价值的错误，而绝对是有害的——因为将灵与肉错误地对立起来，以及将整个人提高到永存不变的自在之物的位置，使我们不能真正认识到：由于表象和自在之物不是一回事，所以我们的本质存在不受时间、因果和变迁的影响，是不可摧毁的。此外，这个错误观念甚至不能被当作真理的替代品，因为理性会不断地质疑其中的荒谬，连其中蕴含的真理也一并抛弃，因为真理只有保持纯粹才能继续存在，真理一受谬误的诱惑，就沾染了谬误的脆弱。

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日常生活中，如果有人什么都想知道，又什么都不想学，他向你问起死后的存在，那么最恰当也许是最正确的回答是：“你死后和你生前一样。”因为这个回答暗示，要求某种存在物有开端却没有结束，这样做毫无道理。不过，这个回答也隐含着一层意思——有两种不同的有，因此也有两种不同的无。不过你也许会回答：“不管你死后会是什么样子，即便一切化为乌有，都是自然而然的，适合于你的，正像你现在的机体存在一样，因此你最应该担心的是转变的那一刻。”是的，以成熟的心态考虑这个问题，就会把我们引向这样的结论：我们这样的生命压根不存在反而更好，所以我们不再存在或一段时间不再存在，就像我们原本不曾存在过一样，从理性的角度看来，并不值得我们忧虑。

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设想有这样一种生物，它们无所不察，无所不知，那么我们死后存在与否这个问题，对这样的生物而言也许毫无意义，因为脱离我们现有的暂时性的个体存在，存在或消亡不再有任何内容，只是无差别的概念。因此，无论毁灭的观念还是存续的观念，都不适用于我们内在的本质存在，即我们皆为其表象的自在之物。因为，这些概念都从时间领域借用而来，而时间不过是现象的形式。另一方面，我们只能根据物质世界的样子想象：现象性表象之核心不可摧毁，则必定像多变的物质世界一样，稳居时间之内，继续存在。如果表象的核心不再存在，我们则会根据形式的样子想象：承载形式的质料消失，形式也消失，因此我们暂时的终止即是彻底的消亡。这两种观点都是用现象世界的形式套用自在之物。但如果说某物不可败坏，但又不继续存在，对此我们甚至不能形成抽象的观念，因为我们本能上做不到。

然而事实上，新的事物不断出现，现存的事物不断消亡，这应被看成是由双镜头装置（大脑功能）制造出来的幻象，我们看待万事万物只能透过这两个镜头，这两个镜头叫做时间和空间，因果关系就存在于时空的相互渗入之中。在这样的条件下，我们所知的皆是现象，我们不知道事物本身是什么样子，即不知道独立于我们感知之外的事物是什么样子。这就是康德哲学的真正核心。

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人死去，自在之物也化为乌有，这是不可想象的。人类凭直觉可以直接认识到：人的死亡是现象在时间——一切现象的形式——中的终止，而自在之物却不受其影响。我们都感到：我们并非某人凭空创造的存在，因此我们相信，虽然死亡能终止我们的生命，却不能终结我们的存在。

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越是清楚地觉察到万物脆弱、虚无和梦幻般的特点，你越会清晰地觉察到自己内部存在的不朽，因为上述特点有此映衬方显鲜明，正如要觉察轮船行驶的速度，只能去看静止的河岸，而不是看轮船本身。

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现时有两半：客观的和主观的。只有客观的一半表现为对时间的直觉，因此不可阻挡地随波逝去；主观的一半站定脚跟，始终不变。惟其如此，我们仍能鲜活地回忆起久远的过去，我们虽深知存在的短暂，仍意识到自身的不朽。

只要活着，我们就意识到，我们一直站在时间的中段，而绝非其终点。由此可以推知，我们每个人身上都体现着无尽时间不变的中段。恰恰是这一点给我们活着的信心，而不是始终生活在死亡的恐惧之中。

借助回忆和想象，一个人可以真切回想起早年生活的经历。那么，他就比别人更加清楚贯穿整个时间的一个个现时瞬间的特质。了解到所有现时瞬间的特质，就会明白，最为短促的瞬间乃是唯一永久的东西。通过这样的直觉体认，他就会知道，此刻按最严格意义来讲是现实的唯一表现形式，它的根在我们之内，来自我们内部而非外部。这样，他就不会怀疑自身存在的不可毁坏。相反他会明白，虽然他死的时候会失去客观世界，失去客观世界借以显露自身的媒介——智力，但他的存在却不会受其影响。因为他内部蕴含的现实和外部一样多。

若不承认这些，就得坚持相反的观点：“时间是完全客观和真实的，它独立于我而存在。我只是偶然地被抛入时间之中，我只占有一小部分时间，因此只得到了昙花一现的现实，就像成千上万人一样。现在他们已经化为乌有，我很快也一样。反之，时间是真实的，它会脱离我继续存在。”我认为，这种观点的乖张甚至荒谬之处必明确加以阐明。

也就是说，实则可将生命视为一场幻梦，死亡才是梦醒。但必须记住，个性和个体属于梦中意识而非清醒时的意识，这就是为什么死亡对于个体来说好像是消亡。这样看来，死亡无论如何不应看成是转到一个全新的陌生的状态，而是回到原本属于我们的状态，人生不过是从这个状态的暂时脱离。

实际上，意识在死亡中毁灭，但产生意识的却并没有毁灭。因为意识首先依赖于智力，而智力依赖于生理进程——很明显，智力是大脑的功能，也因此受到神经系统和血液循环系统的共同调节，更确切地说，智力受到大脑调节，而心脏滋养、驱动并不断刺激大脑。大脑精巧神秘的结构解剖学可以描述但生理学却不能做出解释，正是从大脑中产生了客观世界的现象以及我们的思维活动。不应认为，个体意识，即任何一种意识，能够脱离肉体存在，因为任何意识的前提都是认知，而认知必然是大脑的功能；确切地说，因为大脑是智力的客观形式。那么，既然智力在生理上是次要的，因此在经验现实即现象领域中是次要的，是生命过程的产物。从心理角度来说，智力也是次要的，与此相反，只有意志才是首要的，无论在哪里都是第一要素。因此，既然意识不直接隶属于意志，而受制于智力，而智力又受制于生理机能，那么意识无疑会因死亡而消失，就像在睡梦或任何一种眩晕或晕厥中消失一样。但是别灰心！消失的是怎样的意识呢？一个隶属于大脑的、肉体性的、和动物一样但相对更加紧张的意识。人的意识和动物的意识没有实质区别，尽管我们的意识最发达。这种意识就其根源和目的而言，无非是帮助动物获取所需的权宜之计。相反，死亡带我们回到的是我们的本原状态，即存在的内在状态，生命诞生、延续、现在走向消亡，这是这一状态的变动性所在。它是与表象世界相对的自在之物的状态。

认知受制于大脑，是非常间接的代用品，正因为如此，它是对现象的认知，因此在本原状态完全是多余的，所以我们才会失去它。对我们来说，认知随着现象世界终止而消亡，认知也只不过是现象世界的中介，并只对它来说有些用处。在本原状态，即便有人让我们保留这种动物性的认知，我们也会弃之不顾，正像瘸子病愈后会丢掉拐杖。大脑意识仅适用于现象，仅仅产生现象，如果有人哀叹它消失之际日益迫近，那他堪比皈依基督教的格陵兰岛人——听说天堂里没有海豹，他们拒绝上天堂。

此外，这里讨论的一切都基于一个假设：我们只能设想，一种状态如果不是无意识的，便是有意识的，并且带有一切认知基本形式的印记——主体和客体的分立，能知和所知的分立。但我们必须认识到：知者和被知者均只受我们的动物性所支配，动物性是非常次要的，衍生的，因此绝不是本质生命和本质存在的本原状态。生命和存在可以用其他方式形成，但却不是无意识的。归根结底，我们的内在真实无非是意志，它本身并不具有认知。那么，如果死亡剥夺了我们的智力，我们只是转到无认知的本原状态，它不是无意识的状态，而是一个更高的状态。在那里，主客的对立消失了，因为应知的实际上将和能知的不可分离，一切认知的基本条件（恰恰是这种对立）因此消失了。

7

现在，让我们再一次向外观察而不是向内寻求，我们客观地看待呈现在我们面前的世界，那么死亡对我们来说必是从有到无，出生则将是从无到有，但两者都不是绝对真实的，因为它们只具有现象世界的真实。这样，我们或能逃脱死亡，这也并不比我们司空见惯的生殖行为更加神奇。死去的回到所有生命的起点，也是自身生命的起点。这样看来，我们的生命应被看成是从死亡那里得到的一笔贷款，睡眠则是这笔贷款的日利息。死亡明确宣布，它是个体的终结，但个体内含有新生命的种子，因此死去的不会永远死去，而出生的都不是真的新生。死去的已遭摧毁，但种子脱离出来，发育成新的生命，进入存在领域，不知从何而来，不知为何而生。这就是生生不息的奥秘，它向我们揭示：现有生命的内部含有一切未来生命真实的种子，故而现有生命必定已经存在过。因此，每一个当其盛年的动物都在向我们呼告：“为什么要为生命的短促而悲叹？如果先于我的同类不死去，我又如何存在？”不管世界舞台的剧本和面具如何变化，出场的总是同样的演员。我们相对而坐，谈兴渐浓，目光炯炯，嗓门提高，千年之前别人也是这样聚坐谈论——事情未变，人物也未变，千年之后仍将如此。阻止我们体会到这一点的是时间的拨弄。

灵魂不死和生生不息的区别显而易见，前者是所谓的灵魂整个进入新的肉体，后者是个体的分解与重构，只有意志继续存在，采取新的生命形式，得到新的智力。

无论何时，都是雄性储存人类的意志，雌性储存智力。因此，我们每个人都是父母的一部分构成，这些部分通过生殖过程结合，又通过死亡分裂，因此死亡才是个体的终结。我们对此个体的死亡伤痛不已，感觉到我们真的失去了它，但个体之死无非像一个化合物被不可逆地分解。但这里我们不应忘记，我们从母亲那里继承的智力并不像从父亲那里继承的意志那样牢固和绝对，原因在于智力是第二性的，性质仅是形而下的，全然依赖于生物机体。

因此人们可以从两个相对的角度考察每个人。从一个角度看，他是朝生暮死的个体，肩负错谬和缺憾，在时间中有始有终；从另一个角度看，他是不可摧毁的本原存在，客体化为存在的万物。

8

色拉叙马霍斯：【6】简单说吧，我死后会是什么样子？请说得明确！

菲勒里息斯【7】：什么都是，什么都不是。

色：我就知道！用矛盾陈述来回答问题，这把戏太老套了。

菲：用世俗认识所用的语言来回答超验问题，必然导致矛盾。

色：你说，什么叫超验，什么又叫世俗认识所用的语言？我也熟悉这些字眼。我是从我老师那里学到的，但这些只是仁慈上帝的表述，我老师的哲学即建立于此，合理且适当。若上帝存于世间某处，他就是世俗的；若他存于世界之外，他就是超验的。这很清楚，你也能理解。但没人能理解你那过时的康德式的术语，它们到底是什么意思？

菲：超验的知识超越一切可能经验，力图如实把握自在之物；世俗的知识则局限于可能经验的樊篱，因此只能谈论现象。你，作为一个人，死亡时走到终点。但你的个体性并非你本质和终极的存在，只是它的表现——你的个体性不是自在之物，只是自在之物的现象形式，以时间的面貌出现，因此有开端也有结束。相反，你的存在本身对时间、开端、结束、特定个体的局限都一无所知，因此个体性不能取消它——它无处不在，无人不有。因此，就前一层意义说，你死时归于空无；就后一层意思说，你死后遍于一切。这就是为什么我说你死后什么都是，什么都不是。你提的问题几乎不可能有更好的简短回答，虽然这个回答确实含有矛盾。之所以如此，正是因为你的生命存在于时间中，但你的永生却在永恒之中，因此你的永生也可以说不可毁坏，但不再存在——这又是一个矛盾陈述了。

色：如果我的永生不包括我个体的继续存在，那你的永生我可一个子儿也不愿意掏。

菲：也许你愿意还还价。假设我保证你的个体将继续存在，但此前得有三个月全无知觉的深睡状态呢？

色：我愿意。

菲：但既然你全无知觉，你就没有时光流逝的观念，因此你熟睡时，清醒的世界时间过去三个月或是一万年对你来说都是一样。因为不管哪种情况，你醒来时都只能猜想你睡了多久。因此你三个月还是一万年之后重获个体都是一样。

色：这倒不容易否定。

菲：但假设，现在一万年过去了，却忘了叫醒你，我想这算不上多大的不幸，因为你不存在的时间比你短暂的存在要长那么多，你对此已经很习惯了。不过可以确定的是，你一点儿也不知道你没被叫醒。如果你知道，推动你现在现象形式的神秘作用在这一万年片刻也没有停止，制造和推动着同类的现象，那你也会心满意足。

色：不，你不能这样骗我放弃我的个体。我已经约定，我的个体应继续存在，我不能让步，接受因机能和现象造成的存在的丧失。我，我，我要存在！我要的是这个，而不是靠别人说服才相信的我的存在。

菲：但看看四周，叫着“我，我，我要存在”的不只你一个，凡有一点儿意识的事物都是如此。因此，你的这种渴望恰恰不是你个人的，而是万物无一例外共有的——他并非来自你的个体性，而是来自存在本身。它存于存在着的万物内部，是万物存在的原因，因此存在本身就能满足这一渴望。这一渴望仅仅适用于此，而不是专门适用某个特定的个体存在。有此热望的仅间接属于个体，直接而内在的是万物同具、始终如一的生存意志本身。这样，既然存在是意志的自由创造，乃至无非意志的反映，因此就不能脱离意志而存在。不过，意志只能暂时满足于存在，因为永不厌足的根本不可能被满足。个体对意志来说没有差别，无足轻重。表面上个体显得很重要，因为每个人不能直接认识意志，只能直接认识自己。结果，个体以更大的代价保有自身存在，而不是保有同类物种。这样说来，个体性并不完美，反倒是局限，没有个体性不是损失，而是收获。所以不要为自身存在忧虑。是的，如果你了解存在的真谛，看到你的存在是普遍存在的生存意志，这些忧虑对你来说就会是幼稚的，荒唐透顶的。

色：你才幼稚，你才荒唐透顶，你们哲学家都是这样。像我这样的成年人要是在你这样的傻子身上花几分钟，那全是为了打发时间。现在我有更重要的事情做了，再见！

论自杀

1

据我所知，只有一神教即犹太教的信徒把自我毁灭视为犯罪。尤其令人吃惊的是，无论在《旧约》还是《新约》中，都找不到对自杀的禁止，甚至找不到明确的反对。因此，宗教导师只好根据自己创造的哲学来反对自杀，然而他们创造的哲学根基太浅，缺少力量，为了弥补，他们不得不借助一些字眼的力量来表达他们对自杀的嫌恶，也就是说，他们求助于谩骂。于是我们听到，自杀是最怯懦的行为，只有心智失常的人才会犯下这种罪行，诸如此类的陈词滥调；或者毫无理由地宣称，自杀是“错误的”，虽然世间万物中，人最有权处置的是自己的生命。让我们暂且认定这一问题取决于道德情感，然后比较一下以下两个消息带给我们的感受：某个熟人犯下罪行，如杀人、施暴、背叛或偷窃，以及他自愿结束自己的生命。前者会引起强烈的愤慨，要求对他采取惩罚或报复；后者则激起惋惜和悲伤，我们很可能佩服其勇气，而不是给予道德谴责。谁没有亲友主动离开人世？人们想到他们时会心怀厌恶，好像他们是罪犯吗？依我看，反倒应该要求那些教士说说，他们凭什么在讲坛上或书桌上，把很多为我们尊敬和热爱的人所做的一种行为定义为罪行，并拒绝体面地安葬那些自愿离开人世的人。他们从权威的《圣经》里找不到一点依据，也不能提出一条有力的哲学论证。很显然，人们需要的是理由，而不是空话和指责。即便刑法把自杀定为犯罪，这也不能成为教会这样做的理由，并且这绝对是一个荒唐的立法——什么样的惩罚能阻止一心求死之人呢？如果惩罚的是自杀的企图，也只有自杀未遂者才能受到惩罚。

唯一令人信服的反对自杀的道德论证是，自杀与实现最高道德目标背道而驰，因为自杀表面上是种解脱，却取代了从苦难世界的真正解脱。不过，这种错误和罪行相去甚远，但基督教的教士偏要说自杀是犯罪。

基督教的核心包含如下真理：苦难（十字架）是人生的真正目的，这就是它否定自杀的原因，因为自杀与此目的相悖，而古人立意较低，赞同自杀甚至将其视为荣耀。不过，这种对自杀的反对是出于禁欲的立场，因此必须站在比欧洲道德哲学家高得多的立场上看，这种论证才是有效的。如果我们降低这个立场，谴责自杀就失去了站得住脚的道德理由。因此，一神教的教士狂热地反对自杀——这种狂热既无《圣经》依据也无可信的理由——就一定有秘而不宣的理由：主动放弃生命，对那些宣扬一切皆善的人岂不是一种嘲弄？如果真是这样，那这就成了一神教强制人们乐观的又一例证。一神教谴责自我毁灭，以便不被自我毁灭的行为所谴责。

2

一般来说，惧生甚于畏死，人才会了结其生命。但对死亡的畏惧像看守出口的哨兵，阻止人自杀。如果生命的终点完全是否定性的，是存在的骤然停止，也许每个活人都已了结自己的生命。但死亡也有肯定性的东西：肉体的消灭。这对自杀是一种阻吓，因为肉体是生存意志的现象形式。

战胜畏死之心通常不像局外人看来那样艰难，原因在于精神痛苦和肉体痛苦的对立。肉体痛苦强烈或者漫长，我们就对其他烦恼无动于衷，我们关心的只是好起来。同样，剧烈的精神痛苦让我们对肉体痛苦感到麻木——我们轻视肉体痛苦。事实上，如果肉体痛苦能压倒精神痛苦，就能让我们忘记精神痛苦，获得片刻喘息，因此是有益的。正是这个理由让自杀变得容易：在精神饱受摧残的人看来，自杀引起的肉体痛苦变得毫无意义。

论女人

1

席勒的《女人的尊严》全诗内容丰富，对仗工整，但在我看来，远不如朱伊下列词句更能表达女人的美德：【8】没有女人，我们人生的开端就没了安全，中途少了欢乐，终点缺了安慰。拜伦在《萨丹纳帕勒斯》【9】里更为深情地说道：

稚嫩的生命生长在女人的怀里

是她亲自教你牙牙学语

是她拭去你最初的泪滴

也往往是她

倾听你最后的叹息

当生命垂危

曾经追随他的男人

嫌脏怕苦，纷纷退避

两者都恰如其分地评价了女人的价值。

2

只要看一下女人受造的方式，就可了解女人生来不适合精神或肉体的劳动。她赎清生命之罪不是通过行动，而是通过受苦。她承受生产的痛苦，养育孩子，服从男人——女人理应耐心而快乐地陪在男人左右。大悲大喜、苦活累活不适合她。与男人相比，她的生命之河应平缓流动，波澜不惊，既非幸福得多，也非不幸得多。

3

女人适合做护士和幼师，恰恰由于她们本来就幼稚、愚蠢、目光短浅。一句话，女人终其一生都是大孩子，位于孩子和男人之间的过渡阶段。男人才是真正的人。你只需看看女孩如何和孩子玩闹，整天又唱又跳，然后自问，一个心地最善良的男人与之易地而处，能否做出同样的举动？

4

造化在女人身上设计了一种戏剧用语叫做舞台效果的东西，它让女人以余生为代价，拥有几年超凡的美貌和魅力，此时她让男人想入非非，神魂颠倒，愿意想方设法照顾她一辈子——如果纯粹出于理性的考虑，他几乎不太可能这么做。像对待所有生灵一样，造化用工具和武器装备了女人，让她们在最需要的时候得到稳定的生活，同时造化也秉承了一贯的经济原则。雌蚁交配后翅膀脱落，因为翅膀对养育后代来说成了多余甚至有害的东西。大概出于同样的原因，女人经过一两次生产以后通常也就美貌不再。

5

某物愈高贵，愈完美，它成熟得愈晚、愈慢。男人二十八岁前，理性思考能力和心智还不甚成熟，而女人在十八岁时即已成熟，成熟的也仅是某种理性思考能力，极为有限。如是，女人一生都是孩子，只能看到手边的事物，执著于现在，认表象为真实，宁要细枝末节而不顾切要之事。赖理性之力，男人不仅像动物那样只生活在当下，也思考过去和未来，从中发展出预见能力，也产生忧虑和烦恼，常常感觉焦虑。女人因理性力量较弱，理性带来的优点和缺点都更小。女人就心智而论是近视眼，她们能凭直觉看清周围，但视野太窄，看不到远处。因此，不在眼前的、过去的和未来的事物对女人的影响要比对我们男人的影响小得多，这使她们远较男人容易挥霍无度，有时濒于疯狂。女人从心底觉得：男人的任务是赚钱，而她们的任务是花钱。这在男人活着时还有可能，男人一死便无以为继。男人把挣来的钱交给她们，用作家用，更加深了她们这种想法。女人的这种做法不管有多少缺点，也有好的一面：女人比我们更注重现在，因此如果现状差堪忍受，她们就比我们更享受生活，这赋予她们快乐的性格，她们因此非常适合为忧心忡忡的男人带来欢乐，必要时甚至带来安慰。

像古代条顿人那样，遇到困难时咨询女人，这绝不是一个坏主意，因为她们看待事物的方式与我们截然不同，她们尤其善于看到达成目标最便捷的路径，看到手边的事物；而这些事物正因为就在我们眼皮底下，往往被我们忽略。另外，女人绝对比我们更加现实，看到的只是事物原貌，而我们一旦兴起，就容易夸大，耽于幻想。

也正是出于这个原因，女人对待不幸的人比男人显得更仁慈，更有同情心。但另一方面，她们不如男人那样正直、诚实、尽职尽责，这是因为她们理智力较弱，通常也就更容易受到当下的、可见的、直接相关的事物的影响，而不易受到抽象观念、前贤遗教、所作决定的影响，总的说来不去顾及远处的、过去的和未来的事物。因此，她们虽具第一种美德，却缺少第二种美德；第一种美德虽然最重要，要想达成却非第二种美德不可。人们因此可以说，女人性格中最大的缺点是缺少正义感，最重要的原因是她们缺乏理性和反思能力，还有一点也很重要：女性软弱，不能依靠强力，只能依靠狡诈，所以女人生来精明，天生喜欢说谎。正像造化为狮子装备了利爪尖牙，为大象装备了长牙，为野猪装备了獠牙，为牛装备了牛角，为乌贼装备了墨汁，它也为女人装备了伪装的能力，供其攻防之用。造化给了男人强壮的体魄和聪明的头脑，但又通过女人伪装的天赋，变相地把男人的力量给了女人。伪装是女人根深蒂固的天性，最愚蠢的女人和最聪明的女人在这方面往往一样。女人一有机会就伪装，这对她们来说就像动物一遇攻击就采取防卫一样天经地义，而且她伪装时感觉好像只是在行使她的权利。不去伪装、完全真实的女人几乎没有。正因为这样，女人能轻易地看穿他人的伪装，想在女人面前装假委实不明智。不过，上述女人的最大的缺点及其他相关缺点产生了虚伪、不忠、背叛和忘恩负义。做伪证的女人要比男人多得多，是否应该允许女人宣誓都值得怀疑。

6

为保证人类的繁衍，造化选择了年轻、精壮、英俊的男人，这样种族才不会退化。这是大自然确定不移的意志，意志的表现则是女人的激情。这一法则最为古老，也最为有力。让我们为那些想在这一法则支配下谋求权益的人哀悼吧，因为一旦与此法则抵触，无论他们说什么，做什么，都会被无情地粉碎。因为女人的道德观念虽然隐秘，未曾说出甚至未被觉察，但确是根深蒂固的：“我们有理由欺骗那些把个体权利凌驾在种族利益至上的人，因为他们对女人贡献太少。未来一代要由我们生产，因此种族的强弱和兴衰交付到我们手里，由我们培育。让我们尽职尽责地承担起这个责任吧。”不过，女人不是凭借抽象观念而是凭借个人直觉意识到这一最高法则，她们只能待机会来临用行动来体现这一法则。之后，女人并不像我们设想的那样受到良心的谴责，因为她们心底最黑暗的角落明白：虽然她们的责任与个体相悖，但她们能更好地担负起种族的责任，相比之下，种族的福祉要重要得多。

女人基本上只为种族的繁衍而活，并以此为全部事业，所以她们更关注种族而不是个体，心里也以种族为重，个体为轻。这让她们的性情和举止略显轻佻，总的说来与男人倾向不同。这就是为什么夫妇不和经常发生，甚至司空见惯了。

7

男人和男人天生仅是陌生人，但女人和女人天生就是敌人，原因无疑是同行相轻。男人相轻仅限于同行之间，女人相轻则包括全部女性，因为女人的行业都是一样。就算只在街上走走，她们打量对方的眼神也像归尔甫派和吉伯林派【10】。两个女人第一次见面，肯定比男人见面要多些矜持和虚伪。两个女人互相赞扬，听起来要比男人之间的赞扬更可笑。另外，男人面对地位比自己低得多的人，通常都保留些体恤和人情，上流社会的女人对地位低于自己的人（非指仆人），那种高高在上、不屑一顾的样子让人难以忍受。也许这是因为在女人那里，不同地位的差异更难保持，改变或推翻得更快，因为改变我们地位的因素有上百条，对女人来说却只有一个决定因素：她吸引到的是哪个男人。另一个可能原因是，因为女人都从事同样的职业，她们之间的距离要比男人小得多，因此也就更强调地位的差异。

8

女人矮小、削肩、肥臀、短腿，只有被情欲冲昏头脑的男人才会称其为美，女人的美都来自男人的情欲。女人不应被称为美，而应被叫做不懂审美。无论是音乐、诗歌还是造型艺术，她们都无动于衷或麻木对待。如果她们装作喜欢，那不过是为了取悦他人而装腔作势。这是因为她们不能对任何事情产生纯客观的兴趣，我想原因如下。男人无论做什么，都力图对事物取得直接的控制，或知晓其意义，或驾驭以强力；但无论何时何地，女人都退而求得间接的控制，通过男人来控制事物，因此女人直接控制的只有男人。因此出于天性，女人把一切都看成俘虏男人的手段，她们对其他事物的兴趣都是假的，都是迂回路线，无非是卖弄风骚，惺惺作态。看看女人在戏院、歌剧院或者音乐厅里的表现吧，她们像孩子一样漠不关心，即便在最伟大的作品最华彩的段落，她们照旧聊个不停。古希腊人不让女人进戏院，如果真是这样，那他们做对了——人们至少应能听到演的是什么。实践证明，世界上最聪明的女人也不能在艺术上独树一帜，有所造诣，甚至也不能制造出任何有持久价值的东西，考虑到这一点，人们又能对女人指望什么？这在绘画上尤其突出。女人像我们一样能够掌握绘画技能，事实上也画个不停，但就是一幅杰作也画不出，原因正在于她们的头脑全无客观可言，而客观恰是绘画最基本的要求。偶有例外并不能改变这种情况：女人就整体而言，是俗不可耐、不可救药的非利士人，并将一直如此。由于一种荒唐透顶的安排，她们可以享有丈夫的头衔和称号，所以她们不停地鼓动丈夫去实现那些卑劣的野心。从任何一方面说，她们都是第二性，劣等性别。人们可以对女人的弱小怀有同情，但尊重她们则太过荒谬，即便是女人也会因此认为我们自降身份。古人和东方人就是这样看待女人的，他们给女人一个合适的位置，做得比我们强得多。我们还固守古代法国的骑士精神，以及无聊的尊重女人的观念，这是基督教—日尔曼式愚蠢的登峰造极之作，只会让女人粗鲁傲慢，有时让我们想起贝拿勒斯【11】的神猴——那些猴子知道自己是神圣不可侵犯的，就以为可以为所欲为。

西方的女人，即“太太”，她们的位置摆错了——因为女人绝不应成为我们尊重的对象，不应比男人更趾高气扬，或者享有和男人一样的权利。摆错位置的后果是非常明显的。在欧洲，如果也能让女人这种次等人重归其位，并对尊其为“太太”这种不正常的现象加以限制，那将是一件大好事，欧洲的社会生活、公众生活和政治生活都将大为改观。所有的亚洲人对“太太”现象都会发笑，希腊人和罗马人如果能看到，也会笑出声来。欧洲的太太本不该存在，应该存在的是家庭主妇和希望成为主妇的少女，因此少女应受的教育不是傲慢自矜，而是家政和顺从。正因为欧洲有太太的存在，女性中地位较低者，即大多数，要比同样地位的东方女人不幸得多。

9

在我们实行一夫一妻制的社会里，结婚意味着享有一个人的权利，却担负两个人的义务。不过，法律在承认男女平权的时候，也应同时赋予女人男性的理性思考能力。实际情况是：法律赋予女人不正当的权利越多，实际享受其好处的女人越少。其他女人被剥夺了正当的权利，其人数与享有不正当权利的女人相同。原因在于，一夫一妻制和相应的婚姻法认为女人和男人完全平等（实际绝非如此），结果女人享有本不该属于她们的特权，结婚意味着签订了极不平等的条约，小心谨慎的男人在作出如此大的牺牲之前往往犹豫再三。在一夫多妻制的社会里，每个女人都能得到充分的照料，而在一夫一妻制的社会里，已婚女人的人数是有限的，总有很多女人无依无靠，她们若处在上流社会，则孑然终老；若处在底层社会，则被迫从事力所不逮的体力劳动，或被迫卖笑为生，其生活既无欢笑亦无尊严，但由于风气使然，她们对男人的满足是必要的，因此也就形成了一个阶层，得到承认。正因为她们的存在，有男人依靠或有望依靠男人的女人才得以保全脸面。仅伦敦一地便有八万妓女。如果不是成了一夫一妻制的牺牲品，她们的生活又会是什么样子？这些可怜的女人不可避免成了傲慢虚伪的欧洲太太的对照和补充。一夫多妻制对女性整体是件好事。另一方面，妻子长期患病，或不能生育，或日渐衰老，男人为什么不能再找一个妻子？这样做没有理性的根据。

毫无疑问，一夫多妻制处处可见，应该实行，问题只是如何规范。谁又真正实行一夫一妻制呢？我们都生活在一夫多妻制的社会，至少曾经如此，而结果通常不错。既然每个男人都需要很多女人，那么男人有权利，实则有义务养活更多的女人，这再合理不过了。这也意味着，女人回归本该属于她们的位置，顺从男人，无端索求尊敬和礼遇的太太制度废除了，世界上将只有女人，不再有不幸的女人——这样的女人在欧洲遍地皆是。

论独立思考

1

最大的图书馆如果摆放混乱，还不如小图书馆合用，同样，你可以积累大量知识，但如果不动脑思考，远不如只掌握少量知识，因为只有通过比较各个事实，所知才井然有序，知识才被完全掌握，为你所用。所思必为所知，故应求知；反过来，唯思之方能知之。

你可以自发致力于阅读和学习，但无法致力于思考，思考须被激发，正如火焰须借风势。对思考的对象有兴趣，思考才会继续。兴趣也许是客观的，也许仅是主观的。主观的兴趣仅针对于己相关的事物，客观的兴趣则只属于生而好思之人，对他们来说，思考就像呼吸一样自然。此类人少之又少，正因为这样，大多数学者都难得思考。

2

独立思考和阅读别人的思想，两者对头脑的作用迥异。因此，一开始决定一个人思考或者阅读的因素，差别会越来越大。阅读把不合头脑心境或意愿的思想强加给头脑，就像图章把图案印在石蜡上。头脑全然受制于外部的压力，被迫这样想或那样想，而头脑对此并无意愿或情感上的准备。相反，独立思考时，头脑遵循自己的意愿，思考更大程度上取决于切近之物或者某种记忆。与阅读不同，眼前的事物并不把任何思想强加给头脑，只是提供思考的环境和内容，让头脑去想适合其本性和心境的事物。因此，读得太多会让头脑僵化，正如不断对弹簧施压会让它失去弹性。要想一点自己的想法都没有，最好的方法就是手不释卷。故而，博览群书让大多数人变得更加乏味和愚蠢——他们本不该如此——也剥夺了他们的写作能力。用蒲柏的话说，他们

永远在读别人，却从来没人读他们

3

概而言之，只有我们自己的基本观点才真切，才有生命力，因为我们彻底了解的只有这些。我们读到的他人思想是别人桌子上掉落的面包屑，是陌生来客丢掉的旧衣服。

4

阅读只是独立思考的替代品，阅读意味着让别人左右你的思想。此外，很多书只不过为了说明错误的路有那么多条，听从其指导会怎样误入歧途。只有在自己思想枯竭的时候——这在最智慧的人身上也时有发生——才应该读书。不过，驱除自己的思想来为书籍让路是对圣灵的犯罪，这就好像是抛弃缤纷万象，以便观看植物标本或风景雕刻。

有时，自己苦思良久发现的真理或洞见，可在书中轻易找到，但独立思考得出结论要宝贵一百倍。只有这样，真理或洞见才能进入你的思想体系，成为不可分割的一部分，成为其中的一员，它和你的思想体系严丝合缝，与其他推断和结论和谐共存，带有你自己思想模式的色彩和印记。它随叫随到，将牢牢扎根在你的头脑中，永不磨灭。这极好地印证乃至诠释了歌德的诗句：

遗产虽为先辈所留

唯先争取方能占有

独立思考者先得出观点，才知道权威说法，因此权威说法无非印证自己的观点；书斋里的哲学家却从权威说法出发，通过收集别人的观点形成自己的观点。后者与前者相比，正如机器人与活生生的人。

学而知之的真理之于我们的关系，正如假肢、义齿、蜡制的鼻子，充其量像移植的皮肤。思而得之的真理则像生来就有的四肢，只有它真正属于我们。这也是思想家和纯学者之间的差别所在。

5

把时间花在阅读上，从书中获取智慧，就像从旅游手册上了解某个国家一样，人们可以得到很多事物的信息，但归根结底，他们对那个国家是什么样子却没有真切、明确、彻底的了解。相反，把时间花在思考上则像亲自造访一个国家，他们熟悉该国，对它有真切的认识，身处其中如鱼得水。

6

独立思考的人之于一般书斋哲学家，就如亲历者之于历史学家，前者用切身体会说话。因此，一切独立思考者原则上都是一致的，歧异只来自立场的不同，因为他们都只是表达他们的客观理解。反之，书斋哲学家记录此人如何说，彼人如何想，他人如何反对，等等，然后他比较、权衡、批评这些论述，以图达到真理，这一点他正像历史批评家。

7

经验本身如阅读一样，只是思考的替代品。全凭经验之于思考，正如吃饭之于消化和吸收。经验主义吹嘘只有它通过种种发现推进了人类的知识，就像嘴巴吹嘘只有它才延续了躯体的生命。

8

一流头脑的特征是，凡有判断都出自第一手资料。这样的头脑产生的思想都是独立思考的结果，从他们对思想的表达上也处处可以看出这一点。真正独立思考的人像是君王，不肯居于人下。他的判断，就像君王的决定，直接来自他的绝对权能。他不再接受权威，正如君王不受命于人。除了他自己确定的，他不承认任何事物是有效的。

9

在现实领域，不管我们觉得生活多么美好，多么幸福和快乐，我们仍始终处在重力的影响之下，对此我们要不断克服。相反，在思想领域，我们是无躯壳的灵魂，摆脱了重力，没有需求也没有忧虑。这就是为什么世上没有任何快乐能比得上优美多产的思想的灵光闪现。

10

很多思想对思考者来说具有价值，但只有其中一小部分写下来能引起读者的兴趣。

11

只有出发点是为了给自己提供导引，你的思考才有价值。思想家可分两类：第一种出发点是为了指导自己，第二种为了指导他人。前者是真正的独立思想家，当得起“独立”和“思考”两个词。他们是真正的哲学家。他们本就认真。他们生活的乐趣和幸福在于思考。后者则是诡辩家，他们想装得像思想家，他们的快乐来自他们希望从别人那里得来什么，这才是他们看重的。一个人属于前者还是后者，可从他的整体风格和方式一眼看出。利希腾贝格是前者的典型，赫尔德【12】无疑属于后者。

12

生存暧昧不清，充满痛苦，转瞬即逝，犹如幻梦。生存问题如此严峻和迫切，一想到它，其他问题和目标都相形见绌。除了极少的例外，人们对此并无明确的认识，甚至好像全无觉察，而只关心此外的种种，或仅为今日及今生动动脑筋。他们或是断然拒绝考虑生存问题，或者满意于一些流行的形而上学观点。我想，每念及此你都会认为：人类被称为“思考着的生灵”，是仅就该词的最广义而言。再见到人们不思考或做蠢事，你也会见怪不怪。相反，你会认识到，动物的整个生命仅是一连串的现在，对过去和未来毫无觉察，一般人的智力范围虽然大于动物，但并不像通常所想的那样大得没有边际。

注　释

【1】　梵天是印度教的主神，阿胡拉·玛兹达和安格拉·曼纽分别是古波斯诺斯替教的善神与恶神。

【2】　德谟克里特（活跃于公元前420年前后），希腊哲学家，原子论的创始人。约翰·洛克（1632—1704），17世纪晚期英国代表哲学家。

【3】　比沙（1771—1802），解剖学家和生理学家。卡巴尼斯（1757—1808），物理学家和医学作家。

【4】　此处叔本华引用《罗马书》第7章，《哥林多后书》第2及第3章。

【5】　里希特尔（1763—1825），以笔名让·保罗闻名，是当时最受欢迎的德国作家之一。《塞利娜》在他死后于1827年出版，书中他试图想清楚自己的宗教信仰到底是什么，却没有成功。让·保罗认定，他无法接受基督教，但又发现无法放弃其中的一些信条，比如相信永生，对此除了他排斥的基督教的信条外他别无所获。

【6】　柏拉图《理想国》中人物，试图论证“强权即公理”。他传授雄辩术，更关心赢得辩论而不是获知真理。

【7】　字面意思为“热爱真理者”，哲学家的统称。

【8】　席勒（1759—1805），按传统说法为德国第二大诗人，诗作《女人的尊严（或美德、价值）》曾风靡一时，但他像瓦尔特·司各特一样，大部分诗作都是“劣作中的杰作”。他真正的才华在通俗戏剧，现在他的一些最出色的喜剧仍在上演。维克多·朱伊，剧作家。

【9】　第一幕，第二场。

【10】　中世纪意大利的两大对立派别。归尔甫派反对神圣罗马帝国皇帝，效忠教皇；吉伯林派正好相反。——译者注

【11】　印度东北部城市，现称瓦腊纳西。——译者注

【12】　利希腾贝格（1742—1799），格言作家，讽刺作家。赫尔德（1744—1803），神学家，哲学家，文人。

箴　言　集

论哲学及智力

1

认识和求知的基础在于不可解之物。每一条解释，中间阶段或多或少，最终都引向这里，正如触探海底的铅锤，或深或浅，但迟早会在某个地方触到海底。对不可解事物的研究衍生了形而上学。

2

当智力服务于意志即实用时，只存在个别的事物；当智力醉心于艺术和科学，即因其自身而活跃时，只存在普遍观念和整体类别，以及关于事物的理式。即便雕塑家在雕刻个别物体时，他也在试图刻画理式和类别。究其原因，意志之所图所求只是个别事物，只有个别事物才具有经验意义上的真实性。相反，观念和种属只能非常间接地成为意志的对象。这就是为什么常人不懂普遍真理，而天才则忽略个别事物——对于天才来说，被迫要与实际生活中的个别事物打交道，是个不堪其负的苦差事。

3

哲学思考的两个基本要求是：第一，直面问题，绝不退缩；第二，不言而喻的，要清醒对待，加以质疑；最后，头脑若要进行真正的哲学探讨，必须无拘无束——它不能有特定的目的或目标，因此也就摆脱了意志的诱惑，从而彻底接受可感世界和自身意识的导引。

4

诗人用意象来展示自己的想象，意象来自生活、人的性格或境遇。他们调动意象，让意象尽可能占据读者的心灵。故而，虽然贤愚殊途、才具迥异，人皆受诗人吸引。相反，哲学家展示的不是生活本身，而是从生活中提取的完成了的思想，因此要求读者也能如己一般严密而深入地思考。惟其如此，哲学的读者少之又少。诗人好比示人以花朵，哲人好比示人以花香。

5

哲学有一个古怪而不足取的定义：纯由观念构成的科学，连康德也如此定义哲学。观念所包含的，仅是从感性知识那里乞讨和借用来的东西，感性认识才是所有洞见真正的不竭之源泉。因此，真正的哲学不能来源于纯抽象的观念，而应立足于内在和外在的观察的经验。将实验和概念相结合，也不能取得任何有价值的哲学成就，但这种做法在古代很常见，在当代的诡辩家尤爱采用——我指的是费希特和谢林，黑格尔所做的尤其令人反感，施莱尔马赫在伦理学领域也是这样做的【1】。哲学恰如艺术和诗歌，必须根植于对世界的感知。不管大脑多想高高在上，哲学也不应该是冷冰冰的——整个人，包括大脑和心灵，自始至终都冷眼旁观，不为所动。哲学不是代数，相反，正如沃韦纳格【2】所说：“伟大的思想来自心灵”。

6

仅有敏锐，能使你成为怀疑论者，却不能让你成为哲学家。从另一个方面看，怀疑主义之于哲学，正如反对派之于议会，不仅是有益的，而且是必要的。怀疑主义无所不在，因为哲学无法提供数学所提供的那样的证据。

7

我们把一些命题叫做理性的必然要求。对这些命题，我们未经审查即认其为真，我们对此深信不疑，即便想要对其认真审查也无能为力，因为那样做我们就得暂时对其存疑。我们完全听信这些命题，因为当我们刚刚说话和思考，就有人不停向我们灌输这些命题，使之根深蒂固。因此，思考这些命题就像思考本身一样古老，乃至二者不可分离。

8

人们喋喋不休地说：自然科学成就巨大，相比之下，形而上学进展甚微。但又有哪种科学能像形而上学那样，无时无刻不受到权贵、公众、保皇党人全副武装的反对？只要人们要求形而上学去适应教条，它就不能发挥全部力量。各种各样的宗教，或在早期将教条加诸形而上学而使之僵化，或禁止、压制形而上学自由无碍的表达，从而占据了人类的形而上学倾向。因此，人类对最重要和最有趣事物的考察，对其自身存在的考察，或被间接阻碍，或因思想受制而无力实行，人最崇高的倾向乃被重重枷锁禁锢。

9

真理不能发现，最主要的原因并非事物呈现假象而导致谬误，也非直接源于推理能力的薄弱，而是由于成见和偏见——这些伪前提挡住了通往真理的道路，就像逆风将船吹离陆地，扬帆转舵均无济于事。

10

普遍真理之于个别真理，正如金币之于银币。普遍真理能转化成诸多相关的个别真理，正如一枚金币可以兑换成一些零钱。

11

从一个命题只能引出此命题所蕴含的东西，即其显义与隐义；但两个命题如构成三段论的前提，则可引出两个命题均不具有的东西，正像身体乃各部件凑泊而成，但其性质则为任一部件所不具备。逻辑推论的价值正在于此。

12

光明之于外部的自然界，正如智力之于内部的意识界。智力关乎意志，因此也就关乎身体机能——客观看来，意志即身体机能。这种关系类似光明与可燃物及助燃的氧气的关系。可燃物产生的烟雾愈少，光明愈纯粹；同样，智力与产生它的意志脱离得愈完全，智力愈纯粹。不妨打个更宽泛的比喻：可以把人生看作燃烧的过程，智力就是此过程产生的光明。

13

结合解剖学发现的事实，对自身稍做客观观察，即可得出结论：智力、其物质载体大脑，以及附属的感觉器官，无非是对外部影响的强烈领受，并不构成我们本原的实在。因此，智力之于我们，并不如动力之于植物，或重力与化学力之于石头，在这些形式中只有意志存在。我们的智力无非相当于植物对外部影响的领受，对物理作用和化学作用、对促成或阻碍其生长繁茂的一切的领受。只不过，在我们身上，这种领受升至极高的强度，整个客观世界和理式世界都借此显现。因此，这也是理式世界得以客观化的原因。更形象一点，你可以想象世界上并无动物，那世上便没有可以感知世界的东西，因此世界实则根本没有客观存在。现在设想一些植物紧紧挨着破土而出，各种事物开始作用于它们：空气、风、此植物对彼植物的压力、湿度、温度、光照、电流等等。设想植物对此类影响的领受渐次增强，将发展出感觉，以及将感觉归因的能力，最终将发展成知觉。世界因而在时间、空间和因果关系中显现。然而，知觉仍只是外部影响对植物领受能力作用的结果。这一图景很好地说明了外部世界仅是现象的存在，使之变得可解。究其原因，知觉无非来自外部影响与积极领受之间的关系，的确没人愿意断言：假定作用于植物的所有自然力，其客观、内在和本原的构成即是如此，即自在之物的世界即是如此。这一图景因此也揭示了：为什么人类智力的范围如此狭窄，正如康德在《纯粹理性批判》中所说的那样。

14

不消说，一有好的想法便应用笔记下。我们有时会忘记做过什么，因此更常忘记想过什么。不过，想法并非我们召之即来，而是遵从自己的意愿。相反，对于那些我们从外界接收来的完备的思想，我们只是学而知之的东西，我们能从书本上再次遇到的观点，最好不要记下，因为一旦记下什么，你就把它付诸遗忘。对待记忆，你得苛刻而专制，这样记忆才能俯首帖耳。例如，有时候我们记不起一行诗句或一个单词，你不应该去查书，而应数周时间不时绞尽脑汁，直到记忆履行其职责。你为某事物开动脑筋的时间越长，一旦获得它就会越牢固。

15

思想的质量（思想的形式价值）来自内部，来自思想的方向；思想的内容则来自外部。因此，我们某时的想法是两种截然不同的因素的产物。正因为这样，思想的对象与头脑的关系正如琴拨和琴弦的关系。这也是为什么看到同样的事物，不同的人会有不同的想法。

16

从以下事实即可见出，常人的智力多么琐碎和片面，人类意识又是多么含混不清：尽管人生朝生暮死、充满变数、迷雾重重，人们却都不去进行坚持不懈的哲学探索。除了极少的例外，大多数人浑浑噩噩地过此一生，与动物没有多大区别，他们与动物的最终区别只是他们能为未来几年做一些筹备。如果他们偶有思考形而上问题的需要，也有各种宗教自上而下事先提供给他们思考的结果。他们有宗教就够了，不管是什么样的宗教。

17

人们几乎相信，我们的思考有一半是不自觉地发生的。我们达成一个结论时，通常并未认真地思考引出此结论的前提。这明显体现在下列事实中：有时某事发生了，我们不可能预知其后果；它对我们自身会有什么影响，我们更不可能做出估计；但它却对我们的整个情绪造成了实实在在的影响，让我们由喜转悲，或由悲转喜，这只能是不自觉思考的结果。在下述事例中这一点体现得更加明显：我对一些理论问题或实践问题掌握了一些实际资料，我并没有再去想它，但几天以后，问题的答案不请自到，呈现在我的脑海中，然而，为什么会这样，对我来说，就像运算机一样，是个不解之谜。这又是一个不自觉思考的例子。几乎可以做一个大胆的生理学假设：自觉思考发生在大脑表面，不自觉思考发生在大脑内部。

18

生活单调沉闷，一段时间以后，人们会发现生活枯燥得难以忍受。幸好，知识和洞见不断推进，我们对事物的理解甚至变得更好、更清晰，这或是经验使然，或是因为我们在不同的人生阶段也在经历着变化，观点或多或少总在改变，因此事物向我们呈现出未知的方面。因此，虽然我们的心智能力在退化，“苟日新，日日新，又日新”仍颠扑不灭，同一事物显得新鲜和不同，带给人生常新的兴味。

19

我们对某事物已有一定之见，对与之相关的新观点就会采取防卫和否定的态度，这很自然。新观点像一个敌人，突破进入我们自身信条的封闭体系，打破了我们由此体系而得的心灵的平静，要求我们付出额外的努力，并宣布此前的努力作废。因此，将我们从错误中拯救出来的真理就像药水，不仅味道苦涩难忍，而且不能立竿见影，须经一段时间才发挥效力。

如果说，一个人容易抱残守缺，一群人情况则更糟。一旦人们有了某种观点，不管经历多少，无论怎样引导，均是徒劳。因此，有一些谬见极为普遍，根深蒂固，无数人每天都在心满意足地重复。我列了一个谬见的清单，其他人可以续写：

1.自杀是懦弱之举。

2.不信他人是因为自己不诚实。

3.真正的价值和才能都是朴实无华的。

4.疯子极其不快乐。

5.可以学会哲学思考，但学不会哲学（反之亦然）。

6.悲剧比喜剧好写。

7.哲学会让人远离上帝，深研哲学会让人重归上帝——自弗朗西斯·培根之后人们一直这样说。

8.知识就是力量。一派胡言！有人学识渊博，但知识没给他一点权力；也有人权势熏天，却几乎没有知识。

这些大多是鹦鹉学舌，未经深入思考，仅仅因为人们第一次听说时，觉得这些观点听起来很睿智。

20

智力是强度的单位，不是广度的单位，就智力而论，一人可抵千人，但一千个蠢人加起来也顶不上一个智者。

21

可怜的平庸之辈到处泛滥，他们缺乏两种密切相关的能力：达成判断的能力和形成自己观点的能力。但不是平庸之辈，就无从了解他们能力的缺乏，也无从了解他们生活的可悲。不过，正因为能力的缺乏，胡涂乱写才能在各国大行其道，超凡脱俗之人才命途多舛。真正的思想和艺术在某种程度上都试图将伟大的头脑置于渺小的人群之上，无怪乎此类尝试难以实现。作家要提供乐趣，须在其思考方式和读者的思考方式之间取得某种一致，两者越是一致，提供的乐趣越大。伟大的心灵只能对另一个伟大的心灵心领神会。出于同样的原因，拙劣或平庸的作家在深思的心灵中引起的是反感和厌恶。和大多数人谈话甚至也有同样的效果，每一步都感觉格格不入。

22

植物的生命只是简单的生存，因此植物生命的乐趣完全是主观、麻木的满足。动物有了认识，但认识仅为其动机服务，实际上服务于当前的动机。这就是为什么动物和植物一样，只要活着，活完一生，就感到心满意足。因此，它们可以几个小时一动不动，并不思考，只是观望，但并无不满或者不耐。只有极聪明的动物，如狗和猿，才会感觉无聊，才有行动的需要，因此他们喜欢游戏，因此他们盯着过路的人看，以此自娱。这方面他们很像随处可见、透过窗户盯着我们看的人，但当我们发现他们是学生，我们就会气愤不已。

只有在人身上，认识，即对他物而不仅仅是自身的意识，才达到了一个高度，并借理智上升为思想。结果，除了单纯的存在，人的生活也有了认识本身。在某种意义上，认识使他超越了自身存在，而在其他事物中获得了第二个存在。不过，人的知识也大多限于为其动机服务，虽然并非总是当下的动机。动机总的来说被称为“实用知识”。相反，受到好奇心鼓动或者需要消遣时，人通常会有自由的，即无目的的知识。不过，这种知识每个人都有，即便仅限于此。同时，当动机消歇，人的生命很大程度上只是单纯的存在，人们的交际即是明证：人们迎来送往，照章办事，主要是待在一起，他们根本不交谈，顶多言辞空洞地说上几句。事实上，大多数人即便不自觉，心底也决意“得过且过，动脑越少越好”，他们把这当作最高行为规范，当作自己的座右铭，因为思考对他们来说太过沉重和艰巨。因此，他们只想谋生糊口所必需之事，只想消遣娱乐所要求之事，这也是他们交谈和娱乐的内容，但交谈和娱乐必用最少的思考就能办到。

只有智力超出生存所需时，认识才多少成为自身的目的。智力的天职是为意志服务，仅仅体察事物之间的关系，因此，如果智力擅离职守以保持纯粹的客观，那将是相当罕见的，艺术、诗歌和哲学的起源正在于此，乃无意得之。就其本质而言，智力是劳工，意志是监工，让它从早到晚忙个不停。但如果有一天，这任务繁重的劳工利用空闲时间主动创作一件作品，出于自己的意愿，没有什么目标，只想做点什么让自己满足和开心，那他创作的必是一件真正的艺术品，推而极之，一件天才之作。

像这样纯客观地运用智力，不仅见于一切艺术、诗歌和哲学成就，总的说来也见于一切纯科学的成就。在纯科学的研究和学习中，在对任何主题的自由思索（即无关个人功利的思索）中，这样的智力运用已经出现。即便几句简单的交谈，如果主题是纯客观的，无关谈话者的利益因此也无关其意志，同样需要客观地运用智力。纯客观运用智力与主观运用智力——即为个人利益运用智力，不管多么间接——相比，如同舞蹈与走路之间的关系。像舞蹈一样，客观运用智力是多余精力的释放，没有什么目的；相反，主观运用智力显然合乎天性，因为智力就是为服务意志而产生的。在工作和个人努力中，在一切关乎个人事物和物质的谈话中，在吃喝玩乐中，在有关谋生的种种事物中，在任何一种功利的考虑中，都有智力的主观运用。的确，大多数人不能将智力用作他用，因为对他们来说，智力只是服务于意志的工具，智力全部用于这个任务，毫无保留。正因为这样，他们才变得这么乏味，这么古板，不能从事客观的交谈。从他们的脸上似乎可以看到，智力被牢牢捆在意志之上。因为这样，他们的表情常常给人目光短浅的印象，令人压抑，但这无非表明：他们整个知识储备受制于自身意志。我们可以看出，特定意志为达成其目的需要多少智力，他们就有多少智力，多一点也没有。因此，他们外表粗俗，一旦没有意志的驱使，智力就停滞不动。他们对什么都没有客观的兴趣。如果事物与他们没有直接的或者至少是可能的关系，就引不起他们的注意，更不必说触动他们的心灵。机智或幽默甚至显然都不能打动他们，需要动一点脑筋的事情他们都痛恨。低俗的滑稽顶多让他们大笑几声，除此之外，他们就是麻木的野人。凡此种种，都是因为他们只能产生主观的兴趣。这也正是打牌为什么成了最适合他们的娱乐，因为打牌赌钱和舞台剧、音乐、交谈不同，它不属于纯粹的认识，而是对意志的调动——意志是无所不在的首要因素。除此之外，他们从生到死都是商人，是天生为生活奔波的苦工。他们的一切快乐都来自感官，其他快乐他们感觉不到。和他们交谈只能谈生意，不能谈别的。和他们交往是自降身价。相反，两个能对智力进行某种纯客观运用的人，他们的交谈是自由的智力游戏，虽然他们谈话没有实质内容，只是嬉笑怒骂。这样的交谈实际上像双人舞或群舞，而另外一种交谈则像正步走：一个挨一个或一个跟一个，只为了到某个地方去。

天才喜欢对智力进行自由的因此也是超常的运用，而且他们有这个能力，这样在天才那里，知识成了整个人生最重要的事情和目的，他自身的生存反倒退居其次，仅仅是一种手段。这样，正常的次序完全颠倒了。有了对世界的认识和理解，天才不是生活在一己之内，而是生活在世界之中。他的认知能力完全向着超常的方向发展，因此他不可能把时间都花在单纯的生存及其目的上，他的头脑需要保持充实和活力。他因此不能淡然经历人生百态，像常人一样对日常生活热衷关切。一般的智能适合一般的现实生活，因此天分在常人眼中成了病态，甚至像所有超常之物一样，成了阻碍。由于智能的增强，对外部世界的直觉体认极为客观明晰，远远超过意志所需，反倒妨碍了智力为意志服务，因为他们考虑的是现象本身，为现象本身而考虑，而不去考虑现象与个人意志的关系，或现象与现象的关系，因此也就干扰和妨害了对这些关系的考虑。要服务意志，对事物作些肤浅的思考就足够了。我们只需考虑事物与目的的关系，以及目的与什么有关。因此，我们考虑的只是关系，此外的一切一概视而不见。客观充分地思考事物的本质，会削弱这种认识，使之陷入混乱。

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诚然，天才与常人的智力只有量的区别，即只是程度的区别。不过，常人尽管个个不同，却都有固定的思维模式，因此常常众口一词，赞同一些实则错误的判断，乃至怀抱一些基本观念，一代代流传重复；而每个时代的伟大思想家都或公开或秘密地反对这些观念。考虑到这一点，我们难免要说：天才与常人的智力是质的区别。

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在天才的头脑里，理式世界极为清晰，并鲜明地显现出来。最有分量和最深刻的思想不是通过对个别和孤立的事物苦苦观察而得，而是要尽量全盘考虑。故而，人类有望从天才那里得到最深刻的指导。因此也可以说，天才对事物有极为清醒的认识，所以对与事物相对的人也有着清醒的认识。有能力揭示事物及人类本质的天才，人类应当崇敬。

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若要赢得同时代人的感激，你要与他们步调一致，但这样你就无所建树。若有不凡的想法，你得对后代说。的确，这也许会使你在同时代人中默默无闻。你好像被迫在荒岛上度过一生，辛辛苦苦树立起纪念碑，好让后代的海员知道你曾经存在过。

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能人为金钱和名誉而工作，但天才苦苦耕耘的动机却不容易确定。不是钱，因为天才很少有钱；也不是名，名誉太不确定，更深一层考虑，价值甚少。严格地说，天才工作也不是为了自己的乐趣，因为付出的大量辛劳几乎超过了获得的乐趣。不妨说，天才工作是出于某种奇特的本能，他们对其他动机并不了解，只是不得不付出长期的劳作，表达他们的所见所感。笼统而论，树木结果也出自同样的必要，它向世界索取的只是一块土壤，好让它开花结果。更深一层考虑，似乎在天才身上，生存意志像人类精神一样发觉，智力罕见地暂时明澈起来，现在它要为全人类索取明澈思想之所得——这实则也是天才的本性——以便让天才的思想之光照亮常人暗昧无知的头脑。正是这个目的驱使天才孤军奋战，不求回报、掌声和同情，甚至忽略个人安乐，更多地想着后代而不是当代，因为他的时代只会把他引入歧途。天才把他的工作当成神圣的事业，当成自己存在的真正目的，当成全人类的财产，他留下作品，为了更能理解他的后代。这成了天才最重要的目标，为此目标，他头戴荆冠，但荆冠总归会长成桂冠。他努力完成并守护着他的作品，坚定得就像守护虫卵、孵育未来族群的昆虫——虽然它看不到那一天。它把卵产在一个地方，知道那里有一天会有新的生命茁壮成长。然后，它心满意足地死去。

论美学

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美的形而上学，其核心问题可简述如下：客体与欲望无关，如何能引起我们的愉悦？

我们都认为：某物只有与我们的意志或我们习惯所称的目的发生关系，我们对其才能产生愉悦，因此有愉悦而无意志的激发，听起来像是自相矛盾。美与我们的个人目的即意志无关，但显然能引起愉悦。

我对这一问题的解答是：在美的事物中，我们总能觉知生物界与非生物界内在和本原的形式，即柏拉图所说的理式，由此衍生了无意志参与的认识主体，即无关目的或意愿的纯粹智能。这样，当审美发生时，意志完全从意识中消失，而意志是我们所有烦恼和痛苦的唯一根源，审美伴随的愉悦感由此产生。痛苦连根去除，愉悦因此建立。有人也许会反对：如果那样，愉悦也会连根除掉。不要忘记，我常说，喜足无非是痛苦的消歇，其本质是否定的，痛苦则是肯定的。因此，当欲望全从意识中消失时，仍有愉悦产生的条件——愉悦是无痛苦，此时痛苦甚至无从产生，人从意欲着的主体一变而为纯认知的主体，但仍对自身及其行动了然于心。我们知道，作为意志的世界是第一世界，作为理式的世界是第二世界。前者是欲念的世界，因此有痛苦，有重重磨难；后者实无痛苦，另含一奇妙境界。此境界意义非凡，至少悦人耳目，对此境界的欣赏就产生了审美愉悦。

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想象力隶属于意志，它之所以产生和存在，即是为意志或个人服务，这是它唯一的天职和常务。若个体意志能放任想象力片刻，使其暂免职责，全获自由，又不失充沛活力，或尽力发挥知觉能力，则想象将立刻变得完全客观，成为忠实反映客体的镜子，更确切地说，意志以想象为媒，客观化为或此或彼的客体，客体的核心本质借由想象呈现，知觉时间越久，呈现得越完全，直至知觉穷尽。有纯主体，才有纯客体，即意志在所知之物中的充分显现，这正是（柏拉图的）客体的理式。不过要有此觉知，思考客体时便须将客体在时空中的位置剥离出去，因此也就剥离了其个体性——正是这种恒受因果律支配的位置，使得客体与作为个体的我发生某种关系，因此只有将此位置与意志分离，客体才成为理式，我才因此成为纯粹的认识主体。正因为这样，一幅画将飞逝的瞬间永远固定下来，因而将其从时间中解救出来，它所展现的不是个体，而是理式，是变动中的不变因素。不过，这种假定的主体和客体的改变要实现，不仅需要将认识能力从原本的从属地位解放出来，完全听命于自己，还需要认识能力保持最大程度的活力，尽管此时缺少自然激发其活动的东西，即意志的刺激。这正是为什么主体和客体难以改变，也很少改变。因为我们的所想所图，所闻所见，本质而言都直接或间接地服务于数不胜数、或大或小的个人目的，因此正是意志激发了认识能力充分发挥其功用，没有意志的激发，认识能力立刻减弱。此外，受意志激发而得的认识，对现实生活，甚至对各种科学门类，便已足够，因为各类科学都指向事物之间的关系，而不是本质和内在的存在。只要知识关乎因果，或关乎依据和结论，也就是说，属于自然科学和数学，或关乎历史和发明，所求之认识必为意志的目的；意志越是努力寻求认识，得到认识的速度越快。同样，在国家事务、战争、财政、商业以及种种谋划方面，意志必先运用其欲望的威力，驱使智力全力探求所考察问题的前因后果。此时意志的激发力如此巨大，能让智力超常发挥，实在惊人。

当觉知事物客观、本质的存在时，情况极为不同。事物客观、本质的存在构成事物（柏拉图式的）理式，也存在于一切美术成就之中。前一种情况，意志鼓动人去努力，意志与努力不可分离；后一种情况，意志毫不介入，只有智力依靠自力，用自己的方式自愿无偿展现它取得的成果。只有把意志及其目的从人身上彻底去掉，同时去掉人的个体性，具备纯粹认识的条件，纯客观的觉知才能出现，事物（柏拉图式的）理式才能被理解。然而，此觉知必先于概念，即最初的直觉认识。这一认识继而构成内在的质料及核心，它是真正艺术品、诗歌乃至真正哲学的灵魂。天才可遇而不可求的灵光闪现总是为人称道，正因为最初的艺术认识完全与意志分离，完全独立，是非意志的。

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可以说，该审美的客观方面，即（柏拉图式的）理式，便是去除我们知识的形式条件和主观条件——时间以后呈现在我们面前的东西，正如去掉万花筒的镜片后呈现在眼前的东西。例如，我们看到蓓蕾长成花朵，然后结成果实，惊叹生生不息的动力。如果我们了解到，虽有上述生长变易，我们面前却唯有一不变的植物的理式，惊奇便会消失。不过，我们不能把植物的理式觉知为蓓蕾、花朵和果实的统一体，而只能通过时间形式加以了解。通过时间，智力把理式看作从蓓蕾到果实的一连串状态。

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诗歌和造型艺术总以个别事物为主题，不厌其详地展现其独特性，甚至最无关紧要的细节也不放过。科学借概念而行，一劳永逸地将独特之处加以界定并描述，将其归为一类，每个概念都代表无数个体。考虑到这些，你也许会觉得艺术创作琐碎、微不足道，甚至幼稚。然而，艺术的特质在于，艺术以一代多，它对个体精描细摹，目的在于揭示个体所属种类的理式。因此，一件事，一个生活场景，经过准确充分的刻画，即通过对个体的细致描述，从某个侧面体察人性本身，从而产生对人性本身清晰深刻的认识。正像植物学家从万绿丛中撷取一朵花，加以分析，以便向我们展现植物的共同特点，诗人也从躁动纷繁、无休无止的生活中选择一个场景，有时仅是一种情绪或感觉，以便向我们展示生活和人性。正因为如此，我们看到，莎士比亚、歌德、拉斐尔、伦勃朗等大师不耻描摹单个事物，甚至不引人注意的事物。他们殚精竭虑，穷其根本，探幽发微，因为特殊、个别的事物只有变得显明才能把握。正因为如此，我把诗歌定义为一种用语言让想象动起来的艺术。

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一件造型艺术品并不像实际事物一样，向我们展示昙花一现的东西，即构成具体事物和个别事物的特定质料与特定形式的结合，它向我们展示的仅仅是形式；若艺术品完整赅备，则向我们展示理式本身。因此，一看到画面，我们立刻离开个体事物，走向纯粹形式。形式与质料的分离是迈向理式的一大步，每件造型艺术品，无论绘画还是雕塑，都体现了这种分离。艺术品的美学目的在于让我们认识（柏拉图式的）理式，理式的特点就是形式与质料的脱离和分立。艺术品的本质是仅仅展现形式而不展现质料，并展现得鲜明了然。这正是为什么蜡像不能带来审美感受，因此也不是（美学意义上的）艺术品。制作精美的蜡像比最出色的画作或雕像显得真实得多，如果对现实的模仿是艺术的目的，蜡像可拔头筹。但蜡像展现的不仅仅是纯粹形式，还有质料，因此产生一种假象，好像原物就在眼前。真正的艺术品带我们远离那些昙花一现的东西，即个体，走向长存不变并不断重现的东西——纯粹形式或理式；但蜡像展现的似乎是个体本身，即昙花一现的东西，而不展现能为朝生暮死带来意义的东西。蜡像没有生命。惟其如此，蜡像勾起一种恐怖感——它产生的效果像僵尸。

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我们年轻时的观感之所以重要，在人生的黎明，一切之所以像是沐浴着完美无缺的光辉，都是因为那时我们刚刚通过个别事物对类别开始熟悉，类别对我们还是新鲜事物，所以每个个体事物都代表其种类。在此我们掌握了种类的（柏拉图式的）理式，理式即是美的本质构成。

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人的形体美丽与优雅合一，是意志客观化最高阶段的最显明形式，因此成为造型艺术的最高成就。另一方面，每个具体事物都是美的，因此每个动物也是美的。如果某些动物似乎不那么美，那是因为我们未能纯客观地看待它们，因此不能理解其理式。我们总不免有一些联想，通常是胡乱类比，阻碍了我们对动物之美的感受。例如，我们把猿同人类比，不去把握猿的理式，而把猿看成是夸张丑陋的人。蟾蜍与泥土的类比也产生同样的效果，虽然这不足以解释很多人看到这种动物为什么会感到极度厌恶，甚至感到惧怕和恐怖，就像另一些人看到蜘蛛一样——这似乎肇始于更深、更玄、更神秘的联系。

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无机界若没有水，呈现不出生命的迹象，会给我们一种非常阴郁甚至压抑的印象，其中一例是土伦【3】附近的长峡谷，岩石荒凉，通往马赛之路从中穿过；但非洲的沙漠给人的印象则远为宏大和震撼。无机界给人的印象之所以悲凉，最主要是因为无机界全然受制于重力，地心引力支配一切。相反，一看到草木，我们油然而生欣快之情，植被越是葱茏繁盛，越是自由生长，欣快之情便越强烈。最直接的原因是，植物似乎克服了地心引力，生长的方向恰与被重力左右的物体相反，因而明确宣布：生命现象是更新更高级的事物等级。人类自身便是这种等级的一部分，生命现象是我们的本性所在，也是我们存在的要素，有了它我们便欣欣然。因此，看到植物世界，最让我们愉快的是植物垂直向上，树林中有杉木拔地而起，会让树林增色不少。相反，伐倒的树不能打动我们。事实上，歪歪斜斜的大树产生的效果要远小于挺直的树。柳树枝条低垂，听命于地心引力，才得了“弱柳”的称号。水也是无生命的，但水流动性强，总是波光闪耀，很大程度上抵消了它产生的阴郁感觉。水流给人生命的感觉，此外，水也是我们生命的首要条件。

9

人谋生靠缪斯的恩赐，我是说诗才，对我来说，就像女子谋生靠美貌，两者都是亵渎自身天赋，换取卑劣好处，两者都易色衰力驰，蒙羞收场。别把诗神贬低为妓女。

10

音乐是真正的通用语言，无论哪里的人都能理解。因此，每个国家，每个时代，总有人热切而严肃地讲这门语言。一段意蕴丰厚的旋律很快能传遍全球，一段言之无物的旋律立刻销声匿迹，这说明，旋律的内容很容易理解。不过，音乐讲述的不是事物，而是纯粹的悲喜。悲与喜，对意志而言是唯一的真实。因此，虽然音乐不直接诉诸头脑，对心灵却有千言万语。要求音乐打动头脑是滥用音乐，画面音乐就是这样，因此总是遭到反对。即便海顿和贝多芬也曾误入歧途，创作画面音乐，据我所知，莫扎特和罗西尼则从不这样做，因为表达激情和描绘事物是截然不同的两码事。

11

大歌剧算不上真正的纯艺术作品。相反，它堆砌各种方法，拼凑迥然不同的印象，以人数取胜强化效果，试图提高审美愉悦，可谓粗俗不堪。而音乐是最有力量的艺术，仅凭音乐本身就牢牢抓住敏锐的心灵。事实上，若要正确理解和欣赏音乐杰作，需要全神贯注，好把全部身心都交给音乐，涵泳其中，以便理解音乐那至为亲切的语言。与此相反，高度复杂的歌剧场面宏大，舞台绚丽，灯光和色彩缤纷生动，这一切都通过眼睛侵入观赏者的内心，同时头脑要兼顾剧情，这都让头脑变得散乱迷惑，注意力不能集中，因而对神圣、神秘、亲切的音乐语言感之甚少。这些附加的东西都与音乐目标的实现背道而驰。

严格说来，歌剧可谓不合音乐本质的发明，为不懂音乐的人而设——音乐首先得借助与之格格不入的媒介蒙混过关，如伴随一个冗长、老套、酸溜溜的爱情故事和打油诗。富有生气、言简意赅的诗歌与歌剧音乐长度不相匹配，因此对歌剧剧本毫无用处。

只有弥撒和交响乐才能带来专定完整的音乐享受，而在歌剧中，音乐不幸与无聊的戏剧及讽刺诗结伴而行，必须尽力承受本不属于它的负担。伟大的罗西尼在剧本中有时也失之尖刻，尖刻绝非音乐的特点。

大歌剧长达三个小时，让我们的感受力越来越麻木；一场琐碎的戏往往慢似蜗牛，考验我们的耐心。大歌剧总体而言，其本质就是沉闷。只有个人成就超强，才能弥补这一缺陷。这就是为什么在歌剧这种艺术形式中，只有上乘之作才令人赏心悦目，一切中等水平的作品都让人无法忍受。

12

戏剧是人类存在的最佳反映。总的说来，有三种理解戏剧的方式。第一阶段，也是最常见的阶段，戏剧限于趣味——我们关注剧中人物，因为他们在追求与我们类似的目标，情节靠谋划、角色性格和巧合来推动，全剧靠机智和幽默调节。第二阶段，戏剧诉诸情感——英雄引起我们的怜悯，我们从英雄身上看到自己，情节的特点是悲怆，最后复归平静释然。在悲剧力图达到的最高也是最难的阶段，呈现在我们眼前的是悲伤苦难，生活的不幸，最终的结果是挣扎的徒劳。我们深受触动，受到直接影响或感同身受，对生活产生厌离之情。

13

常言道：万事开头难，但在表演艺术中情况正好相反——结尾是最难的。无数戏剧前半部分让人充满期待，但到了恶名昭著的第四幕，就变得混乱、动摇、摇摆不定，结尾生硬、令人不满，或者是所有人早就想到的结局。有时候，就像《爱米丽娅·迦洛蒂》【4】一样，结局甚至让人生厌，观众满心沮丧地离开剧场。结尾的难度部分在于，把水弄混总比弄清容易，也部分因为，在戏剧开头，我们允许剧作家自由发挥，但到了结尾我们则有了明确的要求。我们要求结尾要么大喜，要么大悲，但人情百态很难如此泾渭分明。我们进而要求结尾要自然，要公平，要水到渠成，但同时又出乎观众的意料。

小说描绘的内在生活越多，外在生活越少，就越高级。这种关系应成为每种小说的标志，不管是《项迪传》还是粗俗野蛮、情节夸张的传奇。的确，《项迪传》没有情节，但《新爱洛绮丝》和《威廉·迈斯特》【5】的情节又如何之少！甚至《堂吉诃德》的情节也很少，仅有的情节也无关紧要，和几个笑话差不多。这四部作品都是小说的巅峰之作。再想想让·保罗，他那些精彩的小说栩栩如生地描写了多少内在生活，对外在的依赖又何其少！即便是瓦尔特·司各特的小说对内在生活的重视也远远超过外在生活，后者无非作为背景出现，好让内在生活生动起来。而在拙劣的小说中，外在生活只为自身存在。艺术就是让内在生活尽可能地生动，因为内在生活才是我们真正的兴趣所在。小说家的任务不是叙述大事，而是让小事变得有趣。

论书籍与写作

1

作家可分为流星、行星和恒星三种。第一种效果短暂，你抬头凝望，叫声“看啊”，它们就永远消失了。第二种是行星，持续的时间要长得多。因为离得近，它们往往要比恒星更亮，无知的人误以为它们就是恒星。但它们必定也会迅速退场，何况它们的光亮是借来的，它们的影响仅限于同行者（同时代的人）。只有第三种始终不变，牢踞天宇，靠自身发亮，影响及于各个时代。由于没有视差，它们的外观不会随着我们视角的改变而改变。与其他星体不同，它们不仅仅属于一个系统（国家），而是属于整个宇宙。正因为太高，它们的光线才需要那么多年才能到达地球人的眼睛。

2

作家总共分两种：一种不得不写，一种为写而写。前者有一些想法和经验，自觉需要与人分享；后者缺钱，他们写作的目的就是赚钱。他们思考是为了写作。你可以根据以下特点认出他们：他们竭尽全力把观点拖长，他们的观点半真半假、暧昧不清、做作且多变，他们通常更爱暮色沉沉，以便蒙混过关。正因为这样，他们的作品既不精确也不清晰。你很快就会发现：他们写作仅仅是为了用字把纸填满。一旦看清这一点，你就会把他们的书扔到一边，因为时间宝贵。稿酬和版权实际上害了文学。只有不得不写，才能写出有价值的作品。金钱好像带有某种诅咒，只要一为报酬写作，任何作家都写不出好作品。最伟大作家创作最杰出作品时，都没有报酬或报酬极少。西班牙的一句谚语说得很妙：荣誉和金钱装不进同一个口袋。

大众有一种愚蠢的愿望——只读印出来的东西，一大群拙劣的作家以此为生，他们叫作报刊作家。真是个好名字！英语中“报刊作家”的意思就是“日工”。

3

作家也可以分为以下三类。第一类作家写作但不思考，他们的写作素材取自记忆、回忆录，甚至直接取自别人的著作，此类作家人数最众。第二类作家边写作边思考，他们为了写作而思考，这样的作家很常见。第三种作家动笔之前先已思考，他们写作只是因为之前的思考，此类作家很罕见。

即便那些动笔之前已认真思考的少数作家，思考主题本身的人也少之又少，其他人思考的都是书，都是他人对主题说过什么。也就是说，得有他人的想法在旁边用力推一下，他们才能思考。于是这些想法成了他们直接的话题，因此他们总受别人影响，也就永远不能有创见。相反，上述少之又少的作家，他们思考是受到主题本身的触动，因此他们的思考紧紧围绕着主题。只有在他们当中才能找到生命力长乃至不朽的作家。

作家所写直接出自自己的头脑，他的书才值得一读。

4

书无非是作者思想的记录。这些思想的价值或在质料，或在形式。质料是指作者的思考建立在什么之上，形式是指作者处理质料的方法，即对质料的思考是什么。

思考所由建立的质料多种多样，这是它赋予书籍的优点。一切经验的素材，即狭义或广义上符合历史或自然规律的事物，都属此类。质料的特征在于客体，因此一本书可以很重要而无论其作者为谁。

至于对质料的思考，其特征则在于主体。所写题目可能所有人都懂，所有人都熟悉，但这里带来价值的是理解质料所采取的形式，是思想的内容，这取决于主体。因此，这样的书如果值得称道、卓尔不群，其作者也是如此。因为这个原因，一个值得一读的作家得益于质料越少，甚或质料越为人熟知，越被广泛采用，该作家便越是伟大。因此，古希腊三大悲剧家都采用同样的质料。

一本书出名以后，你应该分清楚是因为其质料还是形式。

大众对质料远比对形式感兴趣。这种倾向表现在对待诗歌作品的荒诞态度上。他们费尽心机，四处搜罗触发作品创作的真实事件或个人经历，是的，他们对这些东西比对作品本身更感兴趣。因此，他们更多地是在读歌德其人而非其书，他们付出更多辛苦研究浮士德的传说而不是浮士德这个人物。毕尔格曾说：“他们会一本正经地研究莱诺蕾到底是谁。”【6】我们看到，这句话再次在歌德身上应验了。重质料而轻形式，这就好比一个人看到美丽的伊特鲁里亚古瓮，只为对颜料和粘土作化学分析，便对其造型和图案视而不见。

5

思想一经说出即丧失其实际生命，变为化石，就此死去，但也不可朽坏，就像史前动植物化石。一旦我们的思想付诸言辞，思想便不再代表我们的想法，或者说实际上变得不再重要。当思想开始为别人而存在，它就不再存于我们内心，就像婴儿有了自己的生命就脱离母体。

6

文学期刊应是一道水坝，挡住胡乱草就、汹涌而上、有害无益的当代书籍。期刊的判断应正直、明智、苛刻，应该无情地鞭挞一切无能之辈的拼凑之作，一切头脑空空、钱袋空空、凑字赚钱的行为——百分之九十的书都是这样写出来的。期刊应因此反对无病呻吟、欺世盗名，这是其职责所在。但恰恰相反，期刊却在助长这一切，对此听之任之，反倒与作者、出版商结成同盟，占有公众的时间和金钱。期刊撰稿人一般为教授或文人，他们工资不高或报酬微薄，因为目标一致，利益一致，他们联合起来，互相帮衬，彼此吹捧，这就是为什么文学期刊对坏书一片赞誉之声。他们的人生格言是：让自己活，也得让别人活！

匿名写作是一切文学无赖行为的保护伞，必须废除。文学期刊引入匿名写作的背景是，它能保护正直的批评家不被作者及其保护人的怒火所伤；但百倍于此的是，它的作用只是让评论家完全不负责任。若没有匿名写作，评论家将不能为自己的言行开脱；有些腐化堕落的评论家向公众推荐坏书，换取出版商的一点好处，这种可耻行径也就无所遁形。匿名写作仅仅掩盖评论家的含糊其辞、平庸少才和言之无物。一旦他们知道自己可以躲在暗处匿名写作而没有危险，他们就会变得难以置信地无耻和无赖。

卢梭曾在《新爱洛绮丝》的序言中写道：“正直的人都会在作品上写下自己的名字。”一切正话均可反说。评论常为论战之作，情况要糟糕不知多少倍。

7

风格是思想的脸，比身体更少欺骗性。模仿他人的风格好比带了面具，面具不管有多美，它都没有生命，很快就变得索然寡味，难以忍受。因此，最丑陋的活人的脸也胜过面具。

矫揉造作的风格好比做鬼脸。

8

要对一个作家的价值暂作评价，不必了解他思考了些什么，以及他的思考建立在什么之上，因为那样就得读遍他所有的作品。第一步，了解他怎样思考就够了。作家的风格提供了一个确切的参照，可以了解他是怎样思考的，他思考的内在本质和总体风格是什么。因为风格解释了一个人全部思想的形式特点，不管他思考什么，思考建立在什么之上，形式特点都始终不变，这就好比塑造的人物虽然各异，但用来塑造的泥团却都是一样的。当有人问奥伊伦斯皮格尔【7】到下一个镇子还需要多长时间时，他的回答显然莫名其妙：“走走看！”意思是说，要从提问人的步伐确定他在一定时间能走多远。因此我读几页某位作家的书，就已多少知道我能从中得到什么。

好的风格的第一个标志是言之有物，实际上这也足以构成好的风格。

庸常之人言语乏味，也许是因为他们说话时不够清醒，也就是说，不真正理解用词的意义，因为这些用语他们通盘照搬，所以他们组织在一起的是惯用语（老生常谈）而非一个个词语。正因为这样，他们的作品明显缺乏清晰的观点，因为他们的作品里没有构成清晰观点的东西，即明晰的个人思考。相反，我们看到的是一大堆含糊不清的词，现成的短语，陈腐的表达，还有时髦的措辞。这种暧昧的作品因此好比铅字磨损的印版。

从以上关于作品乏味的讨论可以推见，乏味总体而言有两种：客观的和主观的。客观上的乏味是因为没有提出问题，作者没有明确的观点或信息需要表达；因为如果有的话，他就会直接说出，从而处处给出清晰无误的概念，既不模棱两可，也不莫衷一是，更不含糊其辞，因此也就不会乏味。即便他的主导思想是错的，仍经过清楚的思考和审慎的考虑，即至少形式上是正确的，他的作品因此具有一定价值。相反，出于同样的原因，客观上乏味的作品一无是处。主观上的乏味则仅是相对的，其原因在于读者对论题缺少兴趣，当然这源于读者的局限。因此，最值得称道的作品从主观角度看可能是乏味的，即此读者或彼读者认为它乏味；相反，最差的作品从主观角度看可能是有趣的，因为此读者或彼读者对论题或作者感兴趣。

矫揉造作的作家好比一个人装扮起来，以免混同于大众，而绅士不管如何衣衫褴褛也不愿冒此风险。正像过分花哨、华而不实的着装暴露了普通人的身份，矫揉造作的风格也暴露了平庸的头脑。

不过，想让写作和说话一模一样，未免误入歧途。每种写作风格都应略带雅训，雅训实乃一切写作之源。说话像写文章，则显卖弄、晦涩；写文章像说话，一样遭人唾弃。

不论何时何地，晦涩和含混均是大敌，因为言语的含混绝大多数源自思想的含混，而思想的含混又来自思想本身的冲突和矛盾，进一步来自思想的虚假。头脑中如果有了真实的想法，头脑就会力求明晰，并能很快达到这个目标：经过清晰考虑的思想很容易找到适当的语言。一个人所能想的，总能用清晰易懂、明白晓畅的语言表达出来。措辞艰深、混乱暧昧的人并不真正知道自己要说什么，他们对要说的只有点朦胧的意识，还算不上一个想法。不过，他们也想对自己也对他人隐瞒他无话可说的事实。

真理是最为赤裸裸的，其表述越简洁，影响越深远。例如，关于人生之虚无，滔滔雄辩也没有约伯的话更有力量：“人为妇人所生，日子短少，多有患难。出来如花，又被割下；飞去如影，不能存留。”【8】正因为此，歌德的质朴之诗远高于席勒的雕琢之作，这也是很多民歌影响巨大的原因所在。凡属冗余，皆为有害。

从事文学的男女，九成以上除了报纸什么也不读，因此他们的拼写、语法、文风完全取法报纸。因为报纸文字的简洁，他们甚至把报纸对语言的戕害视为短小精悍、措辞文雅、新奇精巧。事实上，才学不足的文学青年总的说来把报纸视为权威，仅仅因为报纸是印刷出来的东西。因此，国家应采取有力措施，确保报纸绝无文字差错。应该设立审查官，他不应领取工资，而应按挑出的错误取酬：发现一个草率使用或风格可憎的词，一个语法或句法错误，或者一个用错的介词，都领一个金路易；发现一处严重违反文风语法的地方，领三个金路易；若发现重复犯的错误，则报酬翻倍；所获报酬应由始作俑者承担。德语难道可以是随便什么人的玩物？甚至粪堆都受法律保护，难道德语就不应该？何其目光短浅！如果每个三流文人和报刊作家都可以任意妄为，不加节制，德语究竟会变成什么样子？

9

文学在衰落，古代语言被人淡忘，一种风格上的缺陷变得越来越普通，但只有在德国才大行其道，这便是主观性。作家认为，他的意思只要自己明白就行了，任由读者自生自灭。作者对读者的困难不予理会，自行其是，仿佛自说自话。而真正该有的是对话，甚至，说者因听不到听者的问题，须将自己的意思表述得更加清楚。出于这个原因，风格不应是主观的，而应是客观的。客观的风格是，词语的组织让读者只能被迫和作者进行完全一样的思考。但要实现这一点，作者须时刻牢记：思想也遵循重力法则——思想从头脑传递到纸上，要比从纸上传递到头脑容易得多，因此为了保证后一种传递，我们得为思想提供力所能及的援助。如若实现，词语将呈现纯客观的状态，就像一幅完成了的油画；而主观的风格其影响力无非像墙上的斑斑污点，仅当想象力碰巧被激发时，人们才能从污点中看出形状和图案，其他情况下它们只是污点而已。我们所讨论的这种区别适用于整体叙述模式，但通常也体现在个别段落。例如，我刚在一本新书中读到：“我写作，不是为了让世上的书再多一本。”这和作家的意图完全相反，而且毫无意义。

10

草率动笔等于坦承作者并不看重自己的思想。只有坚信自己思想的分量和真实性，作家才能产生热情，才有不屈不挠的意念，去探索如何将思想表达得尽量精巧、有力和动人，就像我们只为圣物或无价艺术品使用金银制成的匣子。

11

像建筑师盖房那样写作的人少之又少。建筑师要事先画图纸，考虑到最小的细节；大多数人写作则像玩多米诺骨牌，他们把句子像骨牌一样一个个摆在一起，一半有意为之，一半无心使然。

12

写作艺术的基本原则是：一心不可二用；因此不能要求作家同时思考——更不必说同时表达——两个念头。但割裂句子，加上插入语，就是要求作家一心二用，这种做法导致不必要且荒谬的混乱。德国作家在这方面表现最差，原因可能是德语比其他语言更容易割裂，但这并不值得称道。没有一种语言读起来像法语那样悦耳晓畅，因为法语通常没有这样的缺陷。法国作家注意写下自己的想法，排列顺序最为合理、自然，因此读者对每个想法都心无旁骛。相反，德国作家让想法彼此交错，句子套句子再套句子，因为他们坚持要一下子说六件事，而不是逐一把六件事说完。

德国人真正的民族性格是蠢重【9】，清楚地表现在他们的步态、行为、语言、言辞、叙述方式、理解方式和思考方式上，尤其表现在写作风格上，表现为乐此不疲地使用笨重复杂的长句，读者得花足足五分钟记住这些句子，得在孤立无援时保持耐心，直到句子结尾才真相大白。这就是德国人欣赏的东西，如果文章同时矫揉造作、夸大其词，作者就会喜不自胜。但上天站在读者一边。

一个想法与另一个想法像十字架一样交叉，这样做明显有悖常理，但作家就是这么做的：说一件事刚开头，立刻打断，在句子中间又说迥然不同的另一件事，留下没有意义的半个句子让读者思量，直到下半句出现，这就好像递给客人一个空盘子，让他去猜盘子里会出现什么。

这种大煞风景的造句方式登峰造极之处在于，有时插入语并非句子的有机部分，而是生硬嵌入，造成刺目的断裂。如果说打断别人说话是失礼，那打断自己说话也同样失礼。出现这种遣词造句的方式已有多年。现在，所有胡涂乱写、一心想着报酬的作家每一页都要打断自己六次，并以此为乐。理无例不明——他们的做法就是拆散一个短语，以便插入另一个短语。他们这样做不仅出于懒惰，也由于愚蠢，他们以为这样可以使文笔生动、摇曳生姿。除极个别的例外，这种做法不可原谅。

13

读作家的作品，并不能学会任何文学手法，如说服力强、想象丰富、譬喻巧妙、文笔流畅、文风峻厉、言辞简明、优美雅致、表现力强、机智风趣、对比鲜明、惜字如金、朴实稚拙。但若你已掌握这些手法，已有此倾向和潜质，通过阅读，使已有的手法得以加强，我们知道如何运用，更愿乃至更有勇气调动这些手法，评价其得失，因而学会如何正确运用。这时我们才真正掌握这些手法。这是通过阅读学习写作的唯一方法，借此我们知道我们如何利用自己的天赋。如果我们不具备这些素养，我们从阅读中学到的只有冰冷僵死的套路，成为肤浅的模仿者。

14

地层中保留有过去时代的生物谱系，同样，图书馆的书架上也保留着过去时代的谬误谱系及其说明。像古生物一样，这些谬误曾一度光鲜，名噪一时，但现在已僵化固定，只有古生物学家才加以关注。

15

根据希罗多德的记载，薛西斯一世看到自己的大军，想到众人当中没有一个能活过一百年，不禁落泪。看到汗牛充栋的书籍，没有一本能活过十年，谁又能不潸然泪下？

16

不读书的诀窍十分重要，要点在于，对那些红极一时的书要不去理会。有些宣扬政治或宗教的小册子，或者小说和诗歌，造成很大的轰动，这时应该记住：为蠢人写作总不乏读者。读书的前提是读好书，不读坏书，因为人生苦短。

17

买书是件好事，如果同时能买到读书时间的话；但人们通常误以为，买了书就等于拥有了书的内容。

18

就世界史而言，五十年是相当长的时间，因为世界的质料一直在变，总有新事发生。就文学史而言，五十年微不足道，因为什么也没发生，事情还是五十年前的样子。

与事物的这种状态相适应，科学、文学和艺术的时代风气大约每三十年就瓦解一次，因为期间谬误发展壮大，愈益荒谬，时代风气终于不堪其负；与此同时，相反意见也因谬误而加强。于是乃有突变，但继之而来的常为相反的错误。展现事物状态的阶段性重复应是文学史真正应该研究的内容。

我希望有一天有人尝试写一部文学的悲剧性历史，表现各国在其引以为荣的伟大作家和艺术家尚在人世时是如何对待他们的。这部文学史中，作者应该呈现给我们的是：任何国家，任何时代，善与真如何忍受恶与假的统治；每一位真正开启人类心智的人，每一个艺术大师，几乎都成了殉难者；除了极少例外，他们饱受折磨，贫穷凄惨，不被承认，无人同情，无人追随，无能之辈却名利双收；他们的命运就像《圣经》中的以扫，在出门狩猎、为父亲打野味时被雅各骗走了长子的继承权；尽管如此，他们对事业的热爱支撑他们继续艰苦的斗争，直到教导人类的使命终于完成，永不凋谢的桂冠向他们伸手召唤，钟声敲响，宣布光荣的时刻：

沉重的铠甲变作孩童的轻装，

痛苦短暂，欢乐却绵长。

注　释

【1】　费希特（1762—1814）、谢林（1775—1854）、黑格尔（1770—1831）都是当时最有影响的哲学家，也是叔本华不断攻击的对象。施莱尔马赫（1768—1834），神学家，叔本华批评宗教上的“唯理主义”时，指的就是施莱尔马赫。

【2】　沃韦纳格侯爵（1715—1747），法国意义上的“道德学家”。

【3】　法国南部城市，濒地中海，是法国重要的军港。——译者注

【4】　莱辛创作的悲剧。莱辛是德国启蒙运动的领军人物，也是歌德和席勒之前重要的剧作家。

【5】　《新爱洛绮丝》为卢梭所作，《威廉·迈斯特》为歌德所作。

【6】　毕尔格（1747—1794），诗人，其谣曲《莱诺蕾》是德语名篇，讲述少女莱诺蕾苦等情人，等来的却是装扮成她情人样子的魔鬼，带领她骑马奔向黑暗的坟墓。

【7】　蒂尔·奥伊伦斯皮格尔是德国民间故事中的人物，是个机智、爱搞恶作剧的孩子。——译者注

【8】　《约伯记，14：1—2》，此处译文引自《圣经》“新标准修订版简化字和合本”。

【9】　德语Schwerflligkeit有沉重、笨拙、缓慢、丑陋、蠢重等多重意思。

Arthur Schopenhauer

On the Suffering of the World

TRANSLATED BY R. J. HOLLINGDALE

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Contents

ESSAYS

On the Suffering of the World

On the Vanity of Existence

On the Antithesis of Thing in Itself and Appearance

On Affirmation and Denial of the Will to Live

On the Indestructibility of Our Essential Being by Death

On Suicide

On Women

On Thinking for Yourself

APHORISMS

On Philosophy and the Intellect

On Aesthetics

On Books and Writing

返回总目录

ESSAYS

On the Suffering of the World

1

If the immediate and direct purpose of our life is not suffering then our existence is the most ill-adapted to its purpose in the world: for it is absurd to suppose that the endless affliction of which the world is everywhere full, and which arises out of the need and distress pertaining essentially to life, should be purposeless and purely accidental. Each individual misfortune, to be sure, seems an exceptional occurrence; but misfortune in general is the rule.

2

Just as a stream flows smoothly on as long as it encounters no obstruction, so the nature of man and animal is such that we never really notice or become conscious of what is agreeable to our will; if we are to notice something, our will has to have been thwarted, has to have experienced a shock of some kind. On the other hand, all that opposes, frustrates and resists our will, that is to say all that is unpleasant and painful, impresses itself upon us instantly, directly and with great clarity. Just as we are conscious not of the healthiness of our whole body but only of the little place where the shoe pinches, so we think not of the totality of our successful activities but of some insignificant trifle or other which continues to vex us. On this fact is founded what I have often before drawn attention to: the negativity of well-being and happiness, in antithesis to the positivity of pain.

I therefore know of no greater absurdity than that absurdity which characterizes almost all metaphysical systems: that of explaining evil as something negative. For evil is precisely that which is positive, that which makes itself palpable; and good, on the other hand, i. e. all happiness and all gratification, is that which is negative, the mere abolition of a desire and extinction of a pain.

This is also consistent with the fact that as a rule we find pleasure much less pleasurable, pain much more painful than we expected.

A quick test of the assertion that enjoyment outweighs pain in this world, or that they are at any rate balanced, would be to compare the feelings of an animal engaged in eating another with those of the animal being eaten.

3

The most effective consolation in every misfortune and every affliction is to observe others who are more unfortunate than we: and everyone can do this. But what does that say for the condition of the whole?

History shows us the life of nations and finds nothing to narrate but wars and tumults; the peaceful years appear only as occasional brief pauses and interludes. In just the same way the life of the individual is a constant struggle, and not merely a metaphorical one against want or boredom, but also an actual struggle against other people. He discovers adversaries everywhere, lives in continual conflict and dies with sword in hand.

4

Not the least of the torments which plague our existence is the constant pressure of time, which never lets us so much as draw breath but pursues us all like a taskmaster with a whip. It ceases to persecute only him it has delivered over to boredom.

5

And yet, just as our body would burst asunder if the pressure of the atmosphere were removed from it, so would the arrogance of men expand, if not to the point of bursting then to that of the most unbridled folly, indeed madness, if the pressure of want, toil, calamity and frustration were removed from their life. One can even say that we require at all times a certain quantity of care or sorrow or want, as a ship requires ballast, in order to keep on a straight course.

Work, worry, toil and trouble are indeed the lot of almost all men their whole life long. And yet if every desire were satisfied as soon as it arose how would men occupy their lives, how would they pass the time? Imagine this race transported to a Utopia where everything grows of its own accord and turkeys fly around ready-roasted, where lovers find one another without any delay and keep one another without any difficulty: in such a place some men would die of boredom or hang themselves, some would fight and kill one another, and thus they would create for themselves more suffering than nature inflicts on them as it is. Thus for a race such as this no stage, no form of existence is suitable other than the one it already possesses.

6

Since, as we recalled above, pleasure and well-being is negative and suffering positive, the happiness of a given life is not to be measured according to the joys and pleasures it contains but according to the absence of the positive element, the absence of suffering. This being so, however, the lot of the animals appears more endurable than that of man. Let us look at both a little more closely.

However varied the forms may be which human happiness and misery assume, inciting man to seek the one and flee from the other, the material basis of them all is physical pleasure or physical pain. This basis is very narrow: it consists of health, food, protection from wet and cold, and sexual gratification; or the lack of these things. Man has, consequently, no larger share of real physical pleasure than the animals have, except perhaps to the extent that his more highly charged nervous system intensifies every sensation of pleasure — as it also does every sensation of pain. Yet how much stronger are the emotions aroused in him than those aroused in the animals! how incomparably more profound and vehement are his passions! — and all to achieve exactly the same result in the end: health, food, covering, etc.

This arises first and foremost because with him everything is powerfully intensified by thinking about absent and future things, and this is in fact the origin of care, fear and hope, which, once they have been aroused, make a far stronger impression on men than do actual present pleasures or sufferings, to which the animal is limited. For, since it lacks the faculty of reflection, joys and sorrows cannot accumulate in the animal as they do in man through memory and anticipation. With the animal, present suffering, even if repeated countless times, remains what it was the first time: it cannot sum itself up. Hence the enviable composure and unconcern which characterizes the animal. With man, on the other hand, there evolves out of those elements of pleasure and suffering which he has in common with the animal an intensification of his sensations of happiness and misery which can lead to momentary transports which may sometimes even prove fatal, or to suicidal despair. More closely considered, what happens is this: he deliberately intensifies his needs, which are originally scarcely harder to satisfy than those of the animal, so as to intensify his pleasure: hence luxury, confectionery, tobacco, opium, alcoholic drinks, finery and all that pertains to them. To these is then added, also as a result of reflection, a source of pleasure, and consequently of suffering, available to him alone and one which preoccupies him beyond all measure, indeed more than all the rest put together: ambition and the sense of honour and shame — in plain words, what he thinks others think of him. This, in a thousand, often curious shapes then becomes the goal of all those endeavours of his which go beyond physical pleasure or pain. He excels the animal in his capacity for enjoying intellectual pleasures, to be sure, and these are available to him in many degrees, from the simplest jesting and conversation up to the highest achievements of the mind; but as a counterweight to this, on the side of suffering stands boredom, which is unknown to the animals at least in the state of nature and is only very slightly perceptible in the very cleverest domesticated ones, while to man it has become a veritable scourge. Want and boredom are indeed the twin poles of human life. Finally it remains to be mentioned that with man sexual gratification is tied to a very obstinate selectivity which is sometimes intensified into a more or less passionate love. Thus sexuality becomes for man a source of brief pleasure and protracted suffering.

It is indeed remarkable how, through the mere addition of thought, which the animal lacks, there should have been erected on the same narrow basis of pain and pleasure that the animal possesses so vast and lofty a structure of human happiness and misery, and man should be subjected to such vehement emotions, passions and convulsions that their impress can be read in enduring lines on his face; while all the time and in reality he is concerned only with the very same things which the animal too attains, and attains with an incomparably smaller expenditure of emotion. Through all this, however, the measure of suffering increases in man far more than the enjoyment, and it is very greatly enhanced specifically by the fact that he actually knows of death, while the animal only instinctively flees it without actually knowing of it and therefore without ever really having it in view, which man does all the time.

The animals are much more content with mere existence than we are; the plants are wholly so; and man is so according to how dull and insensitive he is. The animal's life consequently contains less suffering but also less pleasure than the human's, the direct reason being that on the one hand it is free from care and anxiety and the torments that attend them, but on the other is without hope and therefore has no share in that anticipation of a happy future which, together with the enchanting products of the imagination which accompany it, is the source of most of our greatest joys and pleasures. The animal lacks both anxiety and hope because its consciousness is restricted to what is clearly evident and thus to the present moment: the animal is the present incarnate. But precisely because this is so it appears in one respect to be truly sagacious compared with us, namely in its peaceful, untroubled enjoyment of the present: its obvious composure often puts to shame our own frequently restless and discontented condition.

7

If the above discussion has demonstrated that the reason man's life is more full of suffering than the animal's is his greater capacity for knowledge, we can now trace this back to a more general law and thus attain to a much more comprehensive view.

Knowledge is in itself always painless. Pain affects only the will and consists in an obstruction, impediment or frustration of it: nonetheless, this frustration of the will, if it is to be felt as pain, must be accompanied by knowledge. That is why even physical pain is conditioned by the nerves and their connexion with the brain, so that an injury to a limb is not felt if the nerves leading from the limb to the brain are severed or the brain itself is devitalized by chloroform. That spiritual pain is conditional upon knowledge goes without saying, and it is easy to see that it will increase with the degree of knowledge. We can thus express the whole relationship figuratively by saying that the will is the string, its frustration or impediment the vibration of the string, knowledge the sounding-board, and pain the sound.

Now this means that not only inorganic matter but the plant too is incapable of feeling pain, however many frustrations its will may undergo. On the other hand, every animal, even an infusorium, suffers pain, because knowledge, however imperfect, is the true characteristic of animality. At each higher stage of animal life there is a corresponding increase in pain. In the lowest animals it is extremely slight, but even in the highest it nowhere approaches the pain which man is capable of feeling, since even the highest animals lack thought and concepts. And it is right that this capacity for pain should reach its zenith only where, by virtue of the existence of reason, there also exists the possibility of denial of the will: for otherwise it would be nothing but aimless cruelty.

8

In our early youth we sit before the life that lies ahead of us like children sitting before the curtain in a theatre, in happy and tense anticipation of whatever is going to appear. Luckily we do not know what really will appear. For to him who does know, children can sometimes seem like innocent delinquents, sentenced not to death but to life, who have not yet discovered what their punishment will consist of. Nonetheless, everyone desires to achieve old age, that is to say a condition in which one can say: 'Today it is bad, and day by day it will get worse — until at last the worst of all arrives.'

9

If you imagine, in so far as it is approximately possible, the sum total of distress, pain and suffering of every kind which the sun shines upon in its course, you will have to admit it would have been much better if the sun had been able to call up the phenomenon of life as little on the earth as on the moon; and if, here as there, the surface were still in a crystalline condition.

You can also look upon our life as an episode unprofitably disturbing the blessed calm of nothingness. In any case, even he who has found life tolerably bearable will, the longer he lives, feel the more clearly that on the whole it is a disappointment, nay a cheat.【1】 If two men who were friends in youth meet in old age after the lapse of an entire generation, the principal feeling the sight of one another, linked as it is with recollections of earlier years, will arouse in both will be one of total disappointment with the whole of life, which once lay so fair before them in the rosy dawn of youth, promised so much and performed so little. This feeling will dominate so decidedly over every other that they will not even think it necessary to speak of it but will silently assume it as the basis of their conversation.

If the act of procreation were neither the outcome of a desire nor accompanied by feelings of pleasure, but a matter to be decided on the basis of purely rational considerations, is it likely the human race would still exist? Would each of us not rather have felt so much pity for the coming generation as to prefer to spare it the burden of existence, or at least not wish to take it upon himself to impose that burden upon it in cold blood?

For the world is Hell, and men are on the one hand the tormented souls and on the other the devils in it.

Brahma is supposed to have created the world by a kind of fall into sin, or by an error, and has to atone for this sin or error by remaining in it himself until he has redeemed himself out of it. Very good! In Buddhism the world arises as a consequence of an inexplicable clouding of the heavenly clarity of the blessed state of Nirvana after a long period of quietude. Its origin is thus a kind of fatality which is fundamentally to be understood in a moral sense, notwithstanding the case has an exact analogy in the physical world in the origin of the sun in an inexplicable primeval streak of mist. Subsequently, however, as a consequence of moral misdeeds it gradually deteriorates physically too, until it has assumed its present sad condition. Excellent! To the Greeks the world and the gods were the work of an unfathomable necessity: that will do as a provisional explanation. Ormuzd is continually at war with Ahriman: that is worth considering.【2】 But that a god like Jehovah should create this world of want and misery animi causa【3】 and de gaieté de cur and then go so far as to applaud himself for it, saying it is all very good: that is quite unacceptable.

Even if Leibniz's demonstration that this is the best of all possible worlds were correct, it would still not be a vindication of divine providence. For the Creator created not only the world, he also created possibility itself: therefore he should have created the possibility of a better world than this one.

In general, however, two things cry out against any such view of the world as the successful work of an infinitely wise, infinitely good and at the same time infinitely powerful being: the misery of which it is full and the obvious imperfection of its most highly developed phenomenon, man, who is indeed a grotesque caricature. This is a dissonance that cannot be resolved. On the contrary, it is precisely these instances which support what we have been saying and which provide evidence for our conception of the world as the product of our own sins and therefore as something that had better not have been. Under the former conception they become a bitter indictment of the Creator and supply material for cynicisms, while under our conception they appear as an indictment of our own nature and will, and one calculated to teach us humility. For they lead us to the insight that, like the children of libertine fathers, we come into the world already encumbered with guilt and that it is only because we have continually to atone for this guilt that our existence is so wretched and its end is death. Nothing is more certain than that, generally speaking, it is the grievous sin of the world which gives rise to the manifold and great suffering of the world; whereby is meant not any physical-empirical connexion but a metaphysical one. The story of the Fall is consequently the only thing which reconciles me to the Old Testament; I even regard it as the sole metaphysical truth contained in that book, even though it does appear clothed in allegory. For our existence resembles nothing so much as the consequence of a misdeed, punishment for a forbidden desire.

As a reliable compass for orientating yourself in life nothing is more useful than to accustom yourself to regarding this world as a place of atonement, a sort of penal colony. When you have done this you will order your expectations of life according to the nature of things and no longer regard the calamities, sufferings, torments and miseries of life as something irregular and not to be expected but will find them entirely in order, well knowing that each of us is here being punished for his existence and each in his own particular way. This outlook will enable us to view the so-called imperfections of the majority of men, i. e. their moral and intellectual shortcomings and the facial appearance resulting therefrom, without surprise and certainly without indignation: for we shall always bear in mind where we are and consequently regard every man first and foremost as a being who exists only as a consequence of his culpability and whose life is an expiation of the crime of being born.

The conviction that the world, and therefore man too, is something which really ought not to exist is in fact calculated to instil in us indulgence towards one another: for what can be expected of beings placed in such a situation as we are? From this point of view one might indeed consider that the appropriate form of address between man and man ought to be, not monsieur, sir, but fellow sufferer, compagnon de misères. However strange this may sound it corresponds to the nature of the case, makes us see other men in a true light and reminds us of what are the most necessary of all things: tolerance, patience, forbearance and charity, which each of us needs and which each of us therefore owes.

On the Vanity of Existence

1

The vanity of existence is revealed in the whole form existence assumes: in the infiniteness of time and space contrasted with the finiteness of the individual in both; in the fleeting present as the sole form in which actuality exists; in the contingency and relativity of all things; in continual becoming without being; in continual desire without satisfaction; in the continual frustration of striving of which life consists. Time and that perishability of all things existing in time that time itself brings about is simply the form under which the will to live, which as thing in itself is imperishable, reveals to itself the vanity of its striving. Time is that by virtue of which everything becomes nothingness in our hands and loses all real value.

2

That which has been no longer is; it as little exists as does that which has never been. But everything that is in the next moment has been. Thus the most insignificant present has over the most significant past the advantage of actuality, which means that the former bears to the latter the relation of something to nothing.

To our amazement we suddenly exist, after having for countless millennia not existed; in a short while we will again not exist, also for countless millennia. That cannot be right, says the heart: and even upon the crudest intelligence there must, when it considers such an idea, dawn a presentiment of the ideality of time. This however, together with that of space, is the key to all true metaphysics, because it makes room for a quite different order of things than that of nature. That is why Kant is so great.

Every moment of our life belongs to the present only for a moment; then it belongs for ever to the past. Every evening we are poorer by a day. We would perhaps grow frantic at the sight of this ebbing away of our short span of time were we not secretly conscious in the profoundest depths of our being that we share in the inexhaustible well of eternity, out of which we can for ever draw new life and renewed time.

You could, to be sure, base on considerations of this kind a theory that the greatest wisdom consists in enjoying the present and making this enjoyment the goal of life, because the present is all that is real and everything else merely imaginary. But you could just as well call this mode of life the greatest folly: for that which in a moment ceases to exist, which vanishes as completely as a dream, cannot be worth any serious effort.

3

Our existence has no foundation on which to rest except the transient present. Thus its form is essentially unceasing motion, without any possibility of that repose which we continually strive after. It resembles the course of a man running down a mountain who would fall over if he tried to stop and can stay on his feet only by running on; or a pole balanced on the tip of the finger; or a planet which would fall into its sun if it ever ceased to plunge irresistibly forward. Thus existence is typified by unrest.

In such a world, where no stability of any kind, no enduring state is possible, where everything is involved in restless change and confusion and keeps itself on its tightrope only by continually striding forward — in such a world, happiness is not so much as to be thought of. It cannot dwell where nothing occurs but Plato's 'continual becoming and never being'. In the first place, no man is happy but strives his whole life long after a supposed happiness which he seldom attains, and even if he does it is only to be disappointed with it; as a rule, however, he finally enters harbour shipwrecked and dismasted. In the second place, however, it is all one whether he has been happy or not in a life which has consisted merely of a succession of transient present moments and is now at an end.

4

The scenes of our life resemble pictures in rough mosaic; they are ineffective from close up, and have to be viewed from a distance if they are to seem beautiful. That is why to attain something desired is to discover how vain it is; and why, though we live all our lives in expectation of better things, we often at the same time long regretfully for what is past. The present, on the other hand, is regarded as something quite temporary and serving only as the road to our goal. That is why most men discover when they look back on their life that they have the whole time been living ad interim, and are surprised to see that which they let go by so unregarded and unenjoyed was precisely their life, was precisely that in expectation of which they lived.

5

Life presents itself first and foremost as a task: the task of maintaining itself, de gagner sa vie.【4】 If this task is accomplished, what has been gained is a burden, and there then appears a second task: that of doing something with it so as to ward off boredom, which hovers over every secure life like a bird of prey. Thus the first task is to gain something and the second to become unconscious of what has been gained, which is otherwise a burden.

That human life must be some kind of mistake is sufficiently proved by the simple observation that man is a compound of needs which are hard to satisfy; that their satisfaction achieves nothing but a painless condition in which he is only given over to boredom; and that boredom is a direct proof that existence is in itself valueless, for boredom is nothing other than the sensation of the emptiness of existence. For if life, in the desire for which our essence and existence consists, possessed in itself a positive value and real content, there would be no such thing as boredom: mere existence would fulfil and satisfy us. As things are, we take no pleasure in existence except when we are striving after something — in which case distance and difficulties make our goal look as if it would satisfy us (an illusion which fades when we reach it) — or when engaged in purely intellectual activity, in which case we are really stepping out of life so as to regard it from outside, like spectators at a play. Even sensual pleasure itself consists in a continual striving and ceases as soon as its goal is reached. Whenever we are not involved in one or other of these things but directed back to existence itself we are overtaken by its worthlessness and vanity and this is the sensation called boredom.

6

That the most perfect manifestation of the will to live represented by the human organism, with its incomparably ingenious and complicated machinery, must crumble to dust and its whole essence and all its striving be palpably given over at last to annihilation — this is nature's unambiguous declaration that all the striving of this will is essentially vain. If it were something possessing value in itself, something which ought unconditionally to exist, it would not have non-being as its goal.

Yet what a difference there is between our beginning and our end! We begin in the madness of carnal desire and the transport of voluptuousness, we end in the dissolution of all our parts and the musty stench of corpses. And the road from the one to the other too goes, in regard to our well-being and enjoyment of life, steadily downhill: happily dreaming childhood, exultant youth, toil-filled years of manhood, infirm and often wretched old age, the torment of the last illness and finally the throes of death — does it not look as if existence were an error the consequences of which gradually grow more and more manifest?

We shall do best to think of life as a desengaño, as a process of disillusionment: since this is, clearly enough, what everything that happens to us is calculated to produce.

On the Antithesis of Thing in Itself and Appearance

1

Thing in itself signifies that which exists independently of our perception, that which actually is. To Democritus it was matter; fundamentally this is what it still was to Locke; to Kant it was = x; to me it is will.【5】

2

Just as we know of the earth only the surface, not the great, solid masses of the interior, so we know empirically of things and the world nothing at all except their appearances, i. e. the surface. Exact knowledge of this constitutes physics, taken in the widest sense. But that this surface presupposes an interior which is not merely superficies but possesses cubic content is, together with deductions as to the character of this interior, the theme of metaphysics. To seek to construe the nature of things in themselves according to the laws of appearance is an undertaking to be compared with seeking to construe stereometric bodies out of superficies and the laws that apply to them. Every dogmatic transcendental philosophy is an attempt to construe the thing in itself according to the laws of appearance, which is like trying to make two absolutely dissimilar bodies cover one another, an attempt which always fails because however you may turn them this or that corner always protrudes.

3

Because everything in nature is at once appearance and thing in itself, or natura naturata and natura naturans, it is consequently susceptible of a twofold explanation, a physical and a metaphysical. The physical explanation is always in terms of cause, the metaphysical in terms of will; for that which appears in cognitionless nature as natural force, and on a higher level as life force, receives in animal and man the name will. Strictly speaking, therefore, the degree and tendency of a man's intelligence and the constitution of his moral character could perhaps be traced back to purely physical causes, the former from the constitution of his brain and nervous system, together with the blood circulation which affects them, the latter from the constitution and combined effect of his heart, vascular system, blood, lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys, intestines, genitalia, etc.; which would, I grant, demand a much more exact knowledge of the laws governing the rapport du physique au moral【6】 than even Bichat and Cabanis possessed.【7】 Both could then be further traced back to their more remote physical cause, namely the constitution of his parents, inasmuch as these could furnish the seed only for a similar being and not for one higher or better. Metaphysically, on the other hand, the same man would have to be explained as the apparitional form of his own, utterly free and primal will, which has created for itself the intellect appropriate to it; so that all his actions, however necessarily they may be the result of his character in conflict with the motivations acting on him at any given time, and however necessarily these again may arise as a consequence of his corporeity, are nonetheless to be attributed wholly to him.

4

When we perceive and consider the existence, life and activity of any natural creature, e. g. an animal, it stands before us, everything zoology and zootomy teaches not-withstanding, as an unfathomable mystery. But must nature then, from sheer obduracy, for ever remain dumb to our questioning? Is nature not, as everything great is, open, communicative and even nave? Can her failure to reply ever be for any other reason than that we have asked the wrong question, that our question has been based on false presuppositions, that it has even harboured a contradiction? For can it be imagined that a connexion between causes and consequences could exist in nature which is essentially and for ever undiscoverable? — No, certainly not. Nature is unfathomable because we seek after causes and consequences in a realm where this form is not to be found. We try to reach the inner being of nature, which looks out at us from every phenomenon, under the guidance of the principle of sufficient reason — whereas this is merely the form under which our intellect comprehends appearance, i. e. the surface of things, while we want to employ it beyond the bounds of appearance; for within these bounds it is serviceable and sufficient. Here, for example, the existence of a given animal can be explained by its procreation. This is fundamentally no more mysterious than the issuing of any other effect, even the simplest, from its cause, inasmuch as even in the simplest case the explanation finally strikes the incomprehensible. That in the case of procreation we lack a couple more stages in the causal connexion makes no essential difference, for even if we had them we should still stand at last before the incomprehensible, because appearance remains appearance and does not become thing in itself.

5

We complain of the darkness in which we live out our lives: we do not understand the nature of existence in general; we especially do not know the relation of our own self to the rest of existence. Not only is our life short, our knowledge is limited entirely to it, since we can see neither back before our birth nor out beyond our death, so that our consciousness is as it were a lightning-flash momentarily illuminating the night: it truly seems as though a demon had maliciously shut off all further knowledge from us so as to enjoy our discomfiture.

But this complaint is not really justified: for it arises out of an illusion produced by the false premise that the totality of things proceeded from an intellect and consequently existed as an idea before it became actual; according to which premise the totality of things, having arisen from the realm of knowledge, must be entirely accessible to knowledge and entirely explicable and capable of being exhaustively comprehended by it. — But the truth of the matter is, I fear, that all that of which we complain of not knowing is not known to anyone, indeed is probably as such unknowable, i. e. not capable of being conceived.【8】 For the idea, in whose domain all knowledge lies and to which all knowledge therefore refers, is only the outer side of existence, something secondary, supplementary, something, that is, which was necessary not for the preservation of things as such, the universal totality, but merely for the preservation of the individual animal being. Consequently the existence of things as a whole entered into the realm of knowledge only per accidens,【9】 thus to a very limited extent: it forms only the background of the painting in the animal consciousness, where the objectives of the will are the essential element and occupy the front rank. There then arose through this accidens the entire world of space and time, i. e. the world as idea, which possesses no existence of this sort at all outside the realm of knowledge. Now since knowledge exists only for the purpose of preserving each animal individual, its whole constitution, all its forms, such as time, space, etc., are adapted merely to the aims of such an individual: and these require knowledge only of relations between individual phenomena and by no means knowledge of the essential nature of things and the universal totality.

Kant has demonstrated that the problems of metaphysics which trouble everyone to a greater or less degree are capable of no direct solution and of no satisfactory solution at all. The reason for this is ultimately that they have their origin in the forms of our intellect — time, space and causality — while this intellect is designed merely to prescribe to the individual will its motivations, i. e. to indicate to it the objectives of its desires, together with the means of taking possession of them. But if this intellect is abused by being directed upon the being in itself of things, upon the totality and the inner constitution of the world, then the aforesaid forms of the contiguity, successiveness and interdependence of all possible things give birth to metaphysical problems such as those of the origin and purpose, the beginning and end of the world and of one's own self, of the annihilation of this through death or its continued existence in spite of death, of freedom of will, and so forth. If we imagine these forms for once removed, however, and a consciousness of things nonetheless still present, then these problems would be, not solved, but non-existent: they would utterly vanish, and the sentences expressing them would no longer have any meaning. For they arise entirely out of these forms, whose object is not an understanding of the world and existence, but merely an understanding of our own aims.

This whole way of looking at the question offers us an explanation and objective proof of the Kantian theory, which its originator proved only from the subjective point of view, that the forms of reason can be employed only immanently, not transcendentally. For instead of putting it in this manner one could say: the intellect is physical not metaphysical, i. e. since, as appertaining to the will's objectivization it originates in the will, it exists only to serve the will: this service, however, concerns only things in nature, and not things lying outside and beyond nature. It is obvious that an animal possesses intellect only for the purpose of discovering and capturing its food; the degree of intellect it possesses is determined by this purpose. It is no different in the case of man; except that here the greater difficulty of preserving and maintaining him and the endless augmentability of his needs has made necessary a much greater degree of intellect. Only when this is exceeded through an abnormality does there appear a superfluity of intellect exempt from service: when this superfluity becomes considerable it is called genius. Such an intellect will first of all become objective, but it can even go on to become to a certain degree metaphysical, or at least strive to become so: for the consequence of its objectivity is that nature itself, the totality of things, now becomes the intellect's subjectmatter and problem. In such an intellect nature first begins properly to perceive itself as something which is and yet could not be, or could be other than it is; whereas in the ordinary, merely normal intellect nature does not clearly perceive itself — just as the miller does not hear his own mill or the perfumer smell his own shop. To the normal intellect nature appears simply as a matter of course: it is caught up in and encompassed by nature. Only in certain more luminous moments will it perceive nature and it is then almost terrified at the sight: but the feeling soon passes. What such normal heads can achieve in philosophy, even if they crowd together in their thousands, is consequently easy to imagine; but if intellect were metaphysical, in its origin and in its vocation, it could promote philosophy, especially if its forces were united, as well as it can promote every other science.

On Affirmation and Denial of the Will to Live

1

It is to some extent obvious a priori — vulgo【10】 it goes without saying — that that which at present produces the phenomenon of the world must be capable of not doing so and consequently remaining inactive. Now if the former state constitutes the phenomenon of the volition of life, the latter will constitute the phenomenon of non-volition. And this will be in its essence identical with the Magnum Sakhepat of the Vedanta and the Nirvana of the Buddhists.

The denial of the will to live does not in any way imply the annihilation of a substance; it means merely the act of non-volition: that which previously willed, wills no more. This will, as thing in itself, is known to us only in and through the act of volition, and we are therefore incapable of saying or of conceiving what it is or does further after it has ceased to perform this act: thus this denial of the will to live is for us, who are phenomena of volition, a transition to nothingness.

2

Between the ethics of the Greeks and those of the Hindus there exists a glaring antithesis. The object of the former (though with Plato excepted) is to make it possible to lead a happy life, a vitam beatam,【11】 that of the latter, on the contrary, to liberate and redeem from life altogether, as is directly stated in the very first sentence of the Sankhya Karika.

You perceive a similar contrast — a contrast strengthened by its being in visible form — if you regard the beautiful antique sarcophagus in the gallery at Florence on which is depicted in relief the entire ceremonial of a wedding, from the first proposal to the point where Hymen's torch lights the way to the bridal chamber, and then compare it with a Christian coffin, draped in black as a sign of mourning and with a crucifix upon it. The antithesis is in the highest degree significant. Both desire to offer consolation in face of death; they do so in opposite ways, and both are right. The one expresses affirmation of the will to life, through which life is assured for all time, however swiftly its figures and forms may succeed one another. The other, by symbols of suffering and death, expresses denial of the will to life and redemption from a world in which death and the Devil reign. Between the spirit of Graeco-Roman paganism and the spirit of Christianity the real antithesis is that of affirmation and denial of the will to live — in which regard Christianity is in the last resort fundamentally in the right.

3

My ethics stands in the same relation to that of all other European philosophers as the New Testament does to the Old, taking this relationship in the ecclesiastical sense. For the Old Testament places man under the dominion of the Law, which Law, however, does not lead to redemption. The New Testament, on the other hand, declares that the Law is insufficient and, indeed, absolves man from obedience to it.【12】 In its place it preaches the kingdom of grace, which one can enter through faith, charity and total denial of self: this, it says, is the road to redemption from evil and from the world: for — every Protestant and Rationalist misrepresentation not-withstanding — the true soul of the New Testament is undoubtedly the spirit of asceticism. This spirit of asceticism is precisely denial of the will to live, and the transition from the Old Testament to the New, from the dominion of the Law to the dominion of faith, from justification by works to redemption through the Intercessor, from the dominion of sin and death to eternal life in Christ, signifies, sensu proprio,【13】 the transition from merely moral virtue to denial of the will to live. All philosophical ethics before me cleaves to the spirit of the Old Testament: it posits an absolute moral law (i. e. one which has no foundation and no goal) and consists of moral commandments and prohibitions behind which a dictatorial Jehovah is silently introduced; and this is true however different the forms may be in which this ethical philosophy appears. My ethics, on the contrary, possesses foundation, aim and goal: first and foremost, it demonstrates theoretically the metaphysical foundation of justice and charity, and then indicates the goal to which these, if practised in perfection, must ultimately lead. At the same time it candidly confesses the reprehensible nature of the world and points to the denial of the will as the road to redemption from it. My ethics is thus actually in the spirit of the New Testament, while all the others are in that of the Old and consequently amount, even theoretically, to nothing more than Judaism, which is to say naked, despotic theism. In this sense my doctrine could be called the true Christian philosophy, however paradoxical this may seem to those who refuse to penetrate to the heart of the matter but prefer its superficialities.

4

He who is capable of thinking a little more deeply will soon perceive that human desires cannot begin to be sinful simply at that point at which, in their chance encounters with one another, they occasion harm and evil; but that, if this is what they bring about, they must be originally and in their essence sinful and reprehensible, and the entire will to live itself reprehensible. All the cruelty and torment of which the world is full is in fact merely the necessary result of the totality of the forms under which the will to live is objectified, and thus merely a commentary on the affirmation of the will to live. That our existence itself implies guilt is proved by the fact of death.

5

If in comprehending the world you start from the thing in itself, from the will to live, you discover that its kernel, its point of greatest concentration, is the act of generation. What a contrast, on the other hand, is presented if you start from the world of appearance, the empirical world, the world as idea! Here the act of generation is seen as something completely detached and distinct, of subordinate importance, indeed as something secondary to be veiled and hidden, as a paradoxical anomaly offering plentiful material for humour. It might occur to us, however, that this is only a case of the Devil's concealing his game: for has it not been noticed that sexual desire, especially when concentrated into infatuation through fixation on a particular woman, is the quintessence of this noble world's imposture, since it promises so excessively much and performs so miserably little?

The woman's part in procreation is in a certain sense more innocent than the man's, inasmuch as the man gives to the child will, which is the prime sin and thus the source of all wickedness and evil, while the woman gives it knowledge, which opens the road to salvation. The act of generation is the node of the universe; it declares: 'The will to live is once more affirmed.' Conception and pregnancy, on the other hand, declare: 'To the will there is once more joined the light of knowledge' — by means of which it can find its way out of the world again and the possibility of redemption is thus once more opened up.

It is this which explains the notable fact that every woman, while she would be ready to die of shame if surprised in the act of generation, nonetheless carries her pregnancy without a trace of shame and indeed with a kind of pride. The reason is that pregnancy is in a certain sense a cancellation of the guilt incurred by coitus: thus coitus bears all the shame and disgrace of the affair, while pregnancy, which is so intimately associated with it, stays pure and innocent and is indeed to some extent sacred.

Coitus is chiefly an affair of the man, pregnancy entirely that of the woman. The child receives from its father will and character, from its mother intellect. The latter is the redeeming principle, the will the principle of bondage. Coitus is the sign that, despite every increase in illumination through the intellect, the will to live continues to exist in time; the renewed incarnation of the will to live is the sign that the light of knowledge, and that in the highest degree of clarity, the possibility of redemption, has again been joined to this will. The sign of this is pregnancy, which therefore goes about frankly and freely, indeed with pride, while coitus hides itself away like a criminal.

6

Unjust or wicked actions are, in regard to him who performs them, signs of the strength of his affirmation of the will to live, and thus of how far he still is from true salvation, which is denial of this will, and from redemption from the world; they are also signs of how long a schooling in knowledge and suffering he still has to undergo before he can attain it. In regard to him who has to suffer these actions, however, although physically they are an evil, metaphysically they are a good and fundamentally beneficial, since they assist him along the road to his true salvation.

7

WORLD SPIRIT: This then is the task of all your labour and all your suffering: it is for this that you exist, as all other things exist.

MAN: But what do I get from existence? If it is full I have only distress, if empty only boredom. How can you offer me so poor a reward for so much labour and so much suffering?

WORLD SPIRIT: And yet it is proportionate to all your toil and all your suffering, and is so precisely on account of its meagreness.

MAN: Indeed! That passes my comprehension.

WORLD SPIRIT: I know it does. — (Aside) Should I tell him that the value of life lies precisely in this, that it teaches him not to want it? For this supreme initiation life itself must prepare him.

On the Indestructibility of Our Essential Being by Death

1

You should read Jean Paul's Selina to see how a mind of the first order tries to deal with what he comes to think nonsensical in a false concept which he does not want to relinquish because he has set his heart upon it, although he is continually troubled by absurdities he cannot stomach.【14】 The concept in question is that of the continued individual existence of our entire personal consciousness after death. This struggling and wrestling on the part of Jean Paul shows that ideas of this kind, compounded of true and false concepts, are not, as is generally thought, fruitful errors but rather decidedly harmful ones: for the false antithesis between soul and body and the elevation of the total personality to a thing in itself which must endure for ever makes it impossible to arrive at a true knowledge, deriving from the antithesis between appearance and thing in itself, of the indestructibility of our intrinsic being as something unaffected by time, causality and change; moreover, this false concept cannot even be held on to as a surrogate of truth, because reason continually rebels at the absurdity contained in it and is then obliged also to relinquish the truth amalgamated with it. For truth can in the long run endure only in a pure state: tempered with error, it partakes of the frailty of error.

2

If, in everyday life, you are asked about continued existence after death by one of those people who would like to know everything but refuse to learn anything, the most appropriate and approximately correct reply is: 'After your death you will be what you were before your birth.' For this answer implies that it is preposterous to demand that a species of existence which had a beginning should not have an end; in addition, however, it contains a hint that there may be two kinds of existence and, correspondingly, two kinds of nothingness. You might, however, also reply: 'Whatever you will be after your death — even though it were nothing — will then be just as natural and suitable to you as your individual organic existence is now: thus the most you have to fear is the moment of transition.' Indeed, since mature consideration of the matter leads to the conclusion that total non-being would be preferable to such an existence as ours is, the idea of the cessation of our existence, or of a time in which we no longer are, can from a rational point of view trouble us as little as the idea that we had never been. Now since this existence is essentially a personal one, the ending of the personality cannot be regarded as a loss.

3

If we imagine a creature which surveys, knows and understands everything, then the question whether we exist after death would for that creature probably have no meaning, because outside of our present temporal, individual state of being, existence and cessation would no longer signify anything, but would be concepts indistinguishable from one another; so that neither the concept of destruction nor that of continued existence could be applied to our intrinsic and essential being, the thing in itself, of which we are the phenomenal appearance, since these concepts are borrowed from the realm of time, which is merely the form of phenomena. On the other hand, we can imagine the indestructibility of this kernel of our phenomenal appearance only as its continued existence, and indeed intrinsically only according to the scheme of the material world, as which it remains, with all its changes of form, firmly lodged in time. If, now, this kernel is denied its continued existence, we regard our temporal end as an annihilation, according to the scheme of the form, which disappears when the material which bears it is withdrawn. Both ideas are, however, a transference of the forms of the phenomenal world on to the thing in itself. But of an indestructibility which is not a continued existence we can hardly construct even an abstract conception, because we lack every intuition for doing so.

In truth, however, the continual coming into existence of new beings and the annihilation of already existing ones is to be regarded as an illusion produced by a contrivance of two lenses (brain-functions) through which alone we can see anything at all: they are called space and time, and in their interpenetration causality. For everything we perceive under these conditions is merely phenomenon; we do not know what things are like in themselves, i. e. independently of our perception of them. This is the actual kernel of the Kantian philosophy.

4

How can one believe that when a human being dies a thing in itself has come to nothing? Mankind knows, directly and intuitively, that when this happens it is only a phenomenon coming to an end in time, the form of all phenomena, without the thing in itself being affected thereby. We all feel that we are something other than a being which someone once created out of nothing: from this arises the confidence that, while death may be able to end our life, it cannot end our existence.

5

The more clearly you become conscious of the frailty, vanity and dream-like quality of all things, the more clearly will you also become conscious of the eternity of your own inner being; because it is only in contrast to this that the aforesaid quality of things becomes evident, just as you perceive the speed at which a ship is going only when looking at the motionless shore, not when looking into the ship itself.

6

The present has two halves: an objective and a subjective. The objective half alone has the intuition of time as its form and thus streams irresistibly away; the subjective half stands firm and thus is always the same. It is from this that there originates our lively recollection of what is long past and, despite our knowledge of the fleetingness of our existence, the consciousness of our immortality.

Whenever we may live we always stand, with our consciousness, at the central point of time, never at its termini, and we may deduce from that that each of us bears within him the unmoving mid-point of the whole of endless time. It is fundamentally this which gives us the confidence to live without being in continual dread of death.

He who, by virtue of the strength of his memory and imagination, can most clearly call up what is long past in his own life will be more conscious than others of the identity of all present moments throughout the whole of time. Through this consciousness of the identity of all present moments one apprehends that which is most fleeting of all, the moment, as that alone which persists. And he who, in such intuitive fashion, becomes aware that the present, which is in the strictest sense the sole form of reality, has its source in us, and thus arises from within and not from without, cannot doubt the indestructibility of his own being. He will understand, rather, that although when he dies the objective world, with the medium through which it presents itself, the intellect, will be lost to him, his existence will not be affected by it; for there has been as much reality within him as without.

Whoever does not acknowledge all this will be obliged to assert the opposite and say: 'Time is something completely objective and real which exists quite independently of me. I was only thrown into it by chance, have taken possession of a little of it and thereby attained to an ephemeral reality, as thousands of others who are now nothing have done before me, and I too shall very soon be nothing. Time, on the other hand, is what is real: it will then go on without me.' I think the fundamental perversity, indeed absurdity, of this view has only to be clearly stated to become obvious.

All this means, to be sure, that life can be regarded as a dream and death as the awakening from it: but it must be remembered that the personality, the individual, belongs to the dreaming and not to the awakened consciousness, which is why death appears to the individual as annihilation. In any event, death is not, from this point of view, to be considered a transition to a state completely new and foreign to us, but rather a return to one originally our own from which life has been only a brief absence.

Consciousness is destroyed in death, to be sure; but that which has been producing it is by no means destroyed. For consciousness depends first of all on the intellect, but the intellect depends on a physiological process: it is obviously the function of the brain and is thus conditioned by the collaboration of the nervous and vascular systems; more precisely, by the brain nourished, animated and constantly stimulated by the heart; the brain through whose ingenious and mysterious structure, which anatomy can describe but physiology cannot understand, there come about the phenomena of the objective world and the workings of our thoughts. An individual consciousness, that is to say a consciousness of any kind, cannot be thought of apart from a corporeal being, because cognition, which is the precondition of all consciousness, is necessarily a function of the brain — properly speaking because brain is the objective form of intellect. Now since intellect appears physiologically, and consequently in empirical reality, i. e. in the realm of phenomenon, as something secondary, as a result of the life-process, it is also secondary psychologically, in antithesis to will, which alone is primary and everywhere the original element. And since, therefore, consciousness does not adhere directly to will but is conditioned by intellect, and this last is conditioned by the organism, there can be no doubt that consciousness is extinguished by death — as it is by sleep or by any form of fainting or swoon. But cheer up! — for what kind of a consciousness is it? A cerebral, an animal, a somewhat more highly charged bestial consciousness, in as far as we have it in all essentials in common with the whole animal world, even if it does reach its peak in us. This consciousness is, in its origin and aim, merely an expedient for helping the animal to get what it needs. The state to which death restores us, on the other hand, is our original state, i. e. is the being's intrinsic state, the moving principle of which appears in the production and maintenance of the life which is now coming to an end: it is the state of the thing in itself, in antithesis to the world of appearance. And in this primal state such a makeshift as cerebral, highly mediate cognition, which precisely because it is so is cognition only of phenomena, is altogether superfluous; which is precisely why we lose it. For us its abolition is one with the cessation of the world of phenomena whose mere medium it was and in which capacity alone it is of any use. Even if in this primal state we were offered the retention of this animal consciousness we should reject it, as the cured cripple rejects his crutch. Whoever therefore regrets the impending loss of this cerebral consciousness, which is adapted to and capable of producing only phenomena, is to be compared with the converts from Greenland who refused to go to Heaven when they learned there would be no seals there.

Everything said here rests, further, on the presupposition that we can imagine a state which is not unconscious only as one which is cognisant and moreover bears the stamp of the basic form of all cognition, the division into subject and object, into that which knows and that which is known: but we have to consider that this whole form of knowing and being known is conditioned merely by our animal nature, which is moreover very secondary and derivative, and is thus by no means the primal state of all essential being and existence, which may therefore be quite differently constituted and yet not unconscious. Our intrinsic actual being is, so far as we are able to penetrate it, nothing but will, and this is in itself without cognition. If, then, death deprives us of intellect we are thereby only transported to our cognitionless primal state, which is not however simply an unconscious state but rather one elevated above that form, a state in which the antithesis of subject and object falls away, because that which is to be known would here be actually and undividedly one with that which knows and the basic condition of all cognition (which is precisely this antithesis) would be lacking.

7

If now, instead of looking inwards, we again look outwards and take an objective view of the world which presents itself to us, then death will certainly appear to us as a transition into nothingness; on the other hand, however, birth will appear as a coming forth out of nothingness. But neither the one nor the other can be unconditionally true, for they possess the reality only of the phenomenal world. And that we should in some sense or other survive death is no greater miracle than that of procreation, which we have before our eyes every day. What dies goes to where all life originates, its own included. From this point of view our life is to be regarded as a loan received from death, with sleep as the daily interest on this loan. Death announces itself frankly as the end of the individual, but in this individual there lies the germ of a new being. Thus nothing that dies dies for ever; but nothing that is born receives a fundamentally new existence. That which dies is destroyed; but a germ remains over out of which there proceeds a new being, which then enters into existence without knowing whence it has come nor why it is as it is. This is the mystery of palingenesis; it reveals to us that all those beings living at the present moment contain within them the actual germ of all which will live in the future, and that these therefore in a certain sense exist already. So that every animal in the full prime of life seems to call to us: 'Why do you lament the transitoriness of living things? How could I exist if all those of my species which came before me had not died?' However much the plays and the masks on the world's stage may change it is always the same actors who appear. We sit together and talk and grow excited, and our eyes glitter and our voices grow shriller: just so did others sit and talk a thousand years ago: it was the same thing, and it was the same people: and it will be just so a thousand years hence. The contrivance which prevents us from perceiving this is time.

One would do well to make a clear distinction between metempsychosis, which is the transference of the entire so-called soul into another body, and palingenesis, which is the decomposition and reconstruction of the individual in which will alone persists and, assuming the shape of a new being, receives a new intellect.

Throughout all time it is the male sex which stores up the will of the human species and the female which stores up the intellect. Thus each of us has a paternal and a maternal constituent; and as these are united through procreation, so they are sundered again through death, which is thus the end of the individual. It is this individual whose death we grieve so much for, in the feeling that it is really lost to us, that it was no more than a compound which has now been irretrievably broken up. Yet in all this we must not forget that the hereditariness of intellect from the mother is not so firm and unconditional as that of will from the father, the reason being the secondary and merely physical nature of intellect and its total dependence on the organism.

One can thus regard every human being from two opposed viewpoints. From the one he is the fleeting individual, burdened with error and sorrow and with a beginning and an end in time; from the other he is the indestructible primal being which is objectified in everything that exists.

8

THRASYMACHUS【15】: To sum up, what shall I be after my death? Be clear and precise!

PHILALETHES【16】: Everything and nothing.

THRASYMACHUS: As I expected! For the solution to a problem — a contradiction. That trick is very worn-out.

PHILALETHES: To answer transcendent questions in language made for immanent knowledge is bound to lead to contradictions.

THRASYMACHUS: What do you call transcendent and what immanent knowledge? — I too am familiar with these expressions; I learned them from my professor, but only as predicates of the good Lord God, with whom his philosophy was exclusively preoccupied, as was quite right and proper. If God is somewhere in the world he is immanent; but if he sits somewhere outside it, he is transcendent. — Well, that is clear, that's something you can get hold of! You know where you are with that. But no one can any longer understand your old-fashioned Kantian jargon. What is it supposed to mean?

PHILALETHES: Transcendent knowledge is that which, passing beyond all possible experience, strives to determine the nature of things as they are in themselves; immanent knowledge, on the other hand, is that which confines itself within the bounds of possible experience and can therefore speak only of phenomena. — You, as an individual, will come to an end with your death. But your individuality is not your essential and ultimate being, only a manifestation of it: your individuality is not the thing in itself but only the phenomenal form of it which appears under the aspect of time and consequently has a beginning and an end. Your being in itself, on the other hand, knows neither time nor beginning nor end, nor the bounds of a given individuality; thus no individuality can exclude it — it exists in everyone everywhere. In the former sense, therefore, you will when you die become nothing, in the latter everything. That is why I said that after your death you will be everything and nothing. Your question hardly permits of a better short answer than this, even though it does contain a contradiction; and it does so precisely because your life is in time but your immortality is in eternity. — Thus your immortality can also be termed an indestructibility without continued existence — which again amounts to a contradiction.

THRASYMACHUS: Well, I wouldn't give twopence for your immortality if it doesn't include the continued existence of my individuality.

PHILALETHES: But perhaps you would be willing to bargain a little. Suppose I guarantee you the continued existence of your individuality, but on condition it is preceded by a completely unconscious death-sleep of three months.

THRASYMACHUS: I would agree to that.

PHILALETHES: But since when we are completely unconscious we have no notion of the passage of time, it is all one to us whether, while we are lying in that death-sleep, three months or ten thousand years pass in the conscious world. For in either case, when we awake we have to take on trust how long we have been sleeping. So that it will be all the same to you whether your individuality is restored to you after three months or ten thousand years.

THRASYMACHUS: That cannot very well be denied.

PHILALETHES: But now, if after these ten thousand years have passed it was forgotten to wake you up, this would not, I think, be a very great misfortune, since your period of non-being would have been so long compared with your brief period of being you would have got quite used to it. What is certain, however, is that you would not have the least idea you had failed to be woken up. And you would be completely content with the whole thing if you knew that the mysterious mechanism which moves your present phenomenal form had not ceased for one moment throughout those ten thousand years to produce and move other phenomena of the same sort.

THRASYMACHUS: No, you can't cheat me out of my individuality in that way. I have stipulated that my individuality should continue to exist, and I cannot be reconciled to its loss by mechanisms and phenomena. I, I, I want to exist! that is what I want, and not an existence I first have to be argued into believing I possess.

PHILALETHES: But just look around you! That which cries 'I, I, I want to exist' is not you alone; it is everything, absolutely everything that has the slightest trace of consciousness. So that this desire in you is precisely that which is not individual but common to everything without exception: it arises not from the individuality but from existence as such, is intrinsic to everything that exists and indeed the reason why it exists, and it is consequently satisfied by existence as such: it is this alone to which this desire applies, and not exclusively to some particular individual existence. That which desires existence so impetuously is only indirectly the individual! directly and intrinsically it is will to live as such, which is one and the same in all things. Since, then, existence itself is the free work, indeed the mere reflection of the will, the will cannot be deprived of it: the will is, however, temporarily satisfied by it, in so far, that is, as what is eternally unsatisfied can be satisfied at all. Individualities are a matter of indifference to the will; it is not concerned with them, although it seems to be so, because the individual has no direct knowledge of it except in himself. The effect of this is to make the individual expend more care on preserving his existence than he otherwise would, and thereby ensure the preservation of his species. From this it follows that individuality is not a form of perfection but a limitation: thus to be free of it is not a loss but rather a gain. So cease worrying about it: truly, if you knew your own being to its very depths as the universal will to live which you are — such worries would then seem to you childish and altogether ludicrous.

THRASYMACHUS: Childish and altogether ludicrous is what you yourself are, and all philosophers; and if a grown-up man like me spends fifteen minutes with fools of this kind it is merely a way of passing the time. I've now got more important things to do. Good-bye!

On Suicide

1

As far as I can see, it is only the monotheistic, that is to say Jewish, religions whose members regard self-destruction as a crime. This is all the more striking in that neither in the Old nor in the New Testament is there to be found any prohibition or even definite disapproval of it; so that religious teachers have to base their proscription of suicide on philosophical grounds of their own invention, which are however so poor that what their arguments lack in strength they have to try to make up for by the strength of the terms in which they express their abhorrence; that is to say, they resort to abuse. Thus we hear that suicide is the most cowardly of acts, that only a madman would commit it, and similar insipidities; or the senseless assertion that suicide is 'wrong', though it is obvious there is nothing in the world a man has a more incontestable right to than his own life and person. Let us for once allow moral feelings to decide this question, and compare the impression made on us by the news that an acquaintance of ours has committed a crime, for instance a murder, an act of cruelty, a betrayal, a theft, with that produced by the news that he has voluntarily ended his life. While the former will evoke a lively indignation, anger, the demand for punishment or revenge, the latter will excite pity and sorrow, which are more likely to be accompanied by admiration for his courage than by moral disapproval. Who has not had acquaintances, friends, relatives who have departed this world voluntarily? — and is one supposed to think of them with repugnance, as if they were criminals? In my opinion it ought rather to be demanded of the clergy that they tell us by what authority they go to their pulpits or their desks and brand as a crime an action which many people we honour and love have performed and deny an honourable burial to those who have departed this world voluntarily — since they cannot point to a single biblical authority, nor produce a single sound philosophical argument; it being made clear that what one wants are reasons and not empty phrases or abuse. If the criminal law proscribes suicide this is no valid reason for the Church to do so, and is moreover a decidedly ludicrous proceeding, for what punishment can deter him who is looking for death? If one punishes attempted suicide, it is the ineptitude of the attempt one punishes.

The only cogent moral argument against suicide is that it is opposed to the achievement of the highest moral goal, inasmuch as it substitutes for a true redemption from this world of misery a merely apparent one. But it is a very long way from a mistake of this kind to a crime, which is what the Christian clergy want to call it.

Christianity carries in its innermost heart the truth that suffering (the Cross) is the true aim of life: that is why it repudiates suicide, which is opposed to this aim, while antiquity from a lower viewpoint approved of and indeed honoured it. This argument against suicide is however an ascetic one, and is therefore valid only from a far higher ethical standpoint than any which European moral philosophers have ever assumed. If we descend from this very high standpoint there no longer remains any tenable moral reason for damning suicide. It therefore seems that the extraordinary zeal in opposing it displayed by the clergy of monotheistic religions — a zeal which is not supported by the Bible or by any cogent reasons — must have some hidden reason behind it: may this not be that the voluntary surrender of life is an ill compliment to him who said that all things were very good? If so, it is another instance of the obligatory optimism of these religions, which denounces self-destruction so as not to be denounced by it.

2

It will generally be found that where the terrors of life come to outweigh the terrors of death a man will put an end to his life. But the terrors of death offer considerable resistance: they stand like a sentinel at the exit gate. Perhaps there is no one alive who would not already have put an end to his life if this end were something purely negative, a sudden cessation of existence. But there is something positive in it as well: the destruction of the body. This is a deterrent, because the body is the phenomenal form of the will to live.

The struggle with that sentinel is as a rule, however, not as hard as it may seem to us from a distance: the reason is the antagonism between spiritual and physical suffering. For when we are in great or chronic physical pain we are indifferent to all other troubles: all we are concerned about is recovering. In the same way, great spiritual suffering makes us insensible to physical pain: we despise it: indeed, if it should come to outweigh the other it becomes a beneficial distraction, an interval in spiritual suffering. It is this which makes suicide easier: for the physical pain associated with it loses all significance in the eyes of one afflicted by excessive spiritual suffering.

On Women

1

Schiller's whole comprehensive poem Würde der Frauen, with its effects of antithesis and contrast, fails, in my opinion, to express what is truly to be praised in women as well as do these few words of Jouy:【17】 Sans les femmes, le commencement de notre vie serait privé de secours, le milieu de plaisirs, et la fin de consolation.【18】 Byron says the same thing with more pathos in Sardanapolis.【19】

The very first

Of human life must spring from woman's breast,

Your first small words are taught you from her lips,

Your first tears quench'd by her, and your last sighs

Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing,

When men have shrunk from the ignoble care

Of watching the last hour of him who led them.

Both indicate the correct viewpoint for estimating the value of women.

2

One needs only to see the way she is built to realize that woman is not intended for great mental or for great physical labour. She expiates the guilt of life not through activity but through suffering, through the pains of childbirth, caring for the child and subjection to the man, to whom she should be a patient and cheering companion. Great suffering, joy, exertion, is not for her: her life should flow by more quietly, trivially, gently than the man's without being essentially happier or unhappier.

3

Women are suited to being the nurses and teachers of our earliest childhood precisely because they themselves are childish, silly and short-sighted, in a word big children, their whole lives long: a kind of intermediate stage between the child and the man, who is the actual human being, 'man'. One has only to watch a girl playing with a child, dancing and singing with it the whole day, and then ask oneself what, with the best will in the world, a man could do in her place.

4

In the girl nature has had in view what could in theatrical terms be called a stage-effect: it has provided her with superabundant beauty and charm for a few years at the expense of the whole remainder of her life, so that during these years she may so capture the imagination of a man that he is carried away into undertaking to support her honourably in some form or another for the rest of her life, a step he would seem hardly likely to take for purely rational considerations. Thus nature has equipped women, as it has all its creatures, with the tools and weapons she needs for securing her existence, and at just the time she needs them; in doing which nature has acted with its usual economy. For just as the female ant loses its wings after mating, since they are then superfluous, indeed harmful to the business of raising the family, so the woman usually loses her beauty after one or two childbeds, and probably for the same reason.

5

The nobler and more perfect a thing is, the later and more slowly does it mature. The man attains the maturity of his reasoning powers and spiritual faculties hardly before his twenty-eighth year; the woman with her eighteenth. And even then it is only reasoning power of a sort: a very limited sort. Thus women remain children all their lives, never see anything but what is closest to them, cleave to the present moment, take appearance for reality and prefer trifles to the most important affairs. For reason is the faculty by virtue of which man lives not merely in the present, as the animal does, but surveys and ponders past and future, from which arises his capacity for foresight, his care and trouble, and the anxiety he so frequently feels. As a consequence of her weaker reasoning powers, woman has a smaller share of the advantages and disadvantages these bring with them: she is, rather, a mental myopic, in that her intuitive understanding sees very clearly what is close to her but has a very narrow field of vision from which what is distant is excluded; so that what is absent, past or to come makes a very much weaker impression on women than it does on us, which is the origin of their much greater tendency to squandering, a tendency which sometimes verges on madness. Women think in their hearts that the man's business is to make money and theirs is to spend it: where possible during the man's lifetime, but in any case after his death. That the man hands over to them for housekeeping the money he has earned strengthens them in this belief. — Whatever disadvantages all this may bring with it, it has this good effect, that woman is more absorbed in the present than we are, so that, if the present is endurable at all, she enjoys it more, and this produces that cheerfulness characteristic of her through which she is so suited to entertain and, if need be, console the care-laden man.

To consult women when you are in difficulties, as the ancient Teutons did, is by no means a bad idea: for their way of looking at things is quite different from ours, especially in their propensity for keeping in view the shortest road to a desired goal and in general what lies closest to hand, which we usually overlook precisely because it is right in front of our noses. In addition, women are decidedly more prosaic than we are and see no more in things than is really there, while we, if our passions are aroused, will easily exaggerate and indulge in imaginings.

It is for this reason too that women display more pity, and consequently more philanthropy and sympathy with the unfortunate, than men do; on the other hand, they are inferior to men in respect of justice, honesty and conscientiousness: for as a result of their weaker reasoning power women are as a rule far more affected by what is present, visible and immediately real than they are by abstract ideas, standing maxims, previous decisions or in general by regard for what is far off, in the past or still to come. Thus, while they possess the first and chief virtue, they are deficient in the secondary one which is often necessary for achieving the first. — One must accordingly say that the fundamental defect of the female character is a lack of a sense of justice. This originates first and foremost in their want of rationality and capacity for reflexion but it is strengthened by the fact that, as the weaker sex, they are driven to rely not on force but on cunning: hence their instinctive subtlety and their ineradicable tendency to tell lies: for, as nature has equipped the lion with claws and teeth, the elephant with tusks, the wild boar with fangs, the bull with horns and the cuttlefish with ink, so it has equipped woman with the power of dissimulation as her means of attack and defence, and has transformed into this gift all the strength it has bestowed on man in the form of physical strength and the power of reasoning. Dissimulation is thus inborn in her and consequently to be found in the stupid woman almost as often as in the clever one. To make use of it at every opportunity is as natural to her as it is for an animal to employ its means of defence whenever it is attacked, and when she does so she feels that to some extent she is only exercising her rights. A completely truthful woman who does not practise dissimulation is perhaps an impossibility, which is why women see through the dissimulation of others so easily it is inadvisable to attempt it with them. — But this fundamental defect which I have said they possess, together with all that is associated with it, gives rise to falsity, unfaithfulness, treachery, ingratitude, etc. Women are guilty of perjury far more often than men. It is questionable whether they ought to be allowed to take an oath at all.

6

To take care of the propagation of the human race nature has chosen the young, strong and handsome men, so that the race shall not degenerate. This is the firm will of nature in this matter, and its expression is the passion of women. In antiquity and force this law precedes every other: so woe to him who sets his rights and interests in the path of this law: whatever he says or does they will, at the first serious encounter, be mercilessly crushed. For the secret, unspoken, indeed unconscious, but nonetheless inborn morality of women is: 'We are justified in deceiving those who, because they provide a meagre support for us, the individual, think they have acquired a right over the species. The character and consequently the well-being of the species has, through the next generation proceeding from us, been placed in our hands and entrusted to our care: let us discharge that trust conscientiously.' Women are, however, by no means conscious of this supreme law in abstracto,【20】 only in concreto;【21】 and they have no way of giving expression to it apart from their mode of action if the occasion presents itself; and then they are usually less troubled by their conscience than we suppose, because they are aware in the darkest recesses of their heart that in violating their duty to the individual they are all the better fulfilling their duty to the species, whose rights are incomparably greater.

Because fundamentally women exist solely for the propagation of the race and find in this their entire vocation, they are altogether more involved with the species than with individuals, and in their hearts take the affairs of the species more seriously than they do those of the individual. This gives their entire nature and all their activities a certain levity and in general a direction fundamentally different from those of the man: which is why dissension between married couples is so frequent and indeed almost the normal case.

7

Men are by nature merely indifferent to one another; but women are by nature enemies. The reason is no doubt that that odium figulinum【22】 which with men does not go beyond the bounds of the particular guild, with women embraces the whole sex, because they are all engaged in the same trade. Even when they simply pass in the street they look at one another like Guelphs and Ghibellines; and when two women meet for the first time there is clearly more constraint and pretence involved than in the case of two men: so that when two women exchange compliments it sounds much more ludicrous than when two men do so. Further, while a man will as a rule still preserve some degree of consideration and humanity even when addressing men very much his inferior, it is intolerable to see with what haughty disdain an aristocratic woman usually speaks to women who are beneath her (I am not referring to servants). The reason for this may be that with women all differences in rank are far more precarious than they are with us, and can be altered or abolished much more quickly, because in our case a hundred different considerations are involved, while in theirs only one is decisive, namely which man they have succeeded in attracting. Another reason may be that, because they are all in the same profession, they all stand much closer to one another than men do, and consequently strive to emphasize differences in rank.

8

Only a male intellect clouded by the sexual drive could call the stunted, narrow-shouldered, broad-hipped and short-legged sex the fair sex: for it is with this drive that all its beauty is bound up. More fittingly than the fair sex, women could be called the unaesthetic sex. Neither for music, nor poetry, nor the plastic arts do they possess any real feeling or receptivity: if they affect to do so, it is merely mimicry in service of their effort to please. This comes from the fact that they are incapable of taking a purely objective interest in anything whatever, and the reason for this is, I think, as follows. Man strives in everything for a direct domination over things, either by comprehending or by subduing them. But woman is everywhere and always relegated to a merely indirect domination, which is achieved by means of man, who is consequently the only thing she has to dominate directly. Thus it lies in the nature of women to regard everything simply as a means of capturing a man, and their interest in anything else is only simulated, is no more than a detour, i. e. amounts to coquetry and mimicry. One has only to observe how they behave in the theatre or at operas and concerts, e. g. the childish unconcern with which they go on chattering away during the most beautiful parts of the greatest masterpieces. If it is true the Greeks refused to allow women into the theatre, they did the right thing: at least one would have been able to hear what was going on. — Nor can one expect anything else from women if one considers that the most eminent heads of the entire sex have proved incapable of a single truly great, genuine and original achievement in art, or indeed of creating anything at all of lasting value: this strikes one most forcibly in regard to painting, since they are just as capable of mastering its technique as we are, and indeed paint very busily, yet cannot point to a single great painting; the reason being precisely that they lack all objectivity of mind, which is what painting demands above all else. Isolated and partial exceptions do not alter the case: women, taken as a whole, are and remain thorough and incurable philistines: so that, with the extremely absurd arrangement by which they share the rank and title of their husband, they are a continual spur to his ignoble ambitions. They are sexus sequior,【23】 the inferior second sex in every respect: one should be indulgent towards their weaknesses, but to pay them honour is ridiculous beyond measure and demeans us even in their eyes. — This is how the peoples of antiquity and of the Orient have regarded women; they have recognized what is the proper position for women far better than we have, we with our Old French gallantry and insipid women-veneration, that highest flower of Christian-Germanic stupidity which has served only to make women so rude and arrogant that one is sometimes reminded of the sacred apes of Benares which, conscious of their own sanctity and inviolability, thought themselves at liberty to do whatever they pleased.

Woman in the Occident, that is to say the 'lady', finds herself in a false position: for woman is by no means fitted to be the object of our veneration, to hold her head higher than the man or to enjoy equal rights with him. The consequences of this false position are sufficiently obvious. It would thus be a very desirable thing if this number two of the human race were again put in her natural place in Europe too, and a limit set to the unnaturalness called a lady at which all Asia laughs and which Greece and Rome would laugh at too if they could see it: the consequences for the social, civil and political life of Europe would be incalculably beneficial. The European lady is a creature which ought not to exist at all: what there ought to be is housewives and girls who hope to become housewives and who are therefore educated, not in arrogant haughtiness, but in domesticity and submissiveness. It is precisely because there are ladies that European women of a lower status, which is to say the great majority of the sex, are much more unhappy than they are in the Orient.

9

In our monogamous part of the world, to marry means to have one's rights and double one's duties. But when the law conceded women equal rights with men it should at the same time have endowed them with masculine reasoning powers. What is actually the case is that the more those rights and privileges the law accords to women exceed those which are natural to them, the more it reduces the number of women who actually participate in these benefits; and then the remainder are deprived of their natural rights by just the amount these few receive in excess of theirs: for, because of the unnaturally privileged position enjoyed by women as a consequence of monogamy and the marriage laws accompanying it, which regard women as entirely equal to men (which they are in no respect), prudent and cautious men very often hesitate before making so great a sacrifice as is involved in entering into so inequitable a contract; so that while among polygamous peoples every woman gets taken care of, among the monogamous the number of married women is limited and there remains over a quantity of unsupported women who, in the upper classes, vegetate on as useless old maids, and in the lower are obliged to undertake laborious work they are constitutionally unfitted for or become fines de joie,【24】 whose lives are as devoid of joie【25】 as they are of honour but who, given the prevailing circumstances, are necessary for the gratification of the male sex and therefore come to constitute a recognized class, with the specific task of preserving the virtue of those women more favoured by fate who have found a man to support them or may reasonably hope to find one. There are 80,000 prostitutes in London alone: and what are they if not sacrifices on the altar of monogamy? These poor women are the inevitable counterpart and natural complement to the European lady, with all her arrogance and pretension. For the female sex viewed as a whole polygamy is therefore a real benefit; on the other hand there appears no rational ground why a man whose wife suffers from a chronic illness, or has remained unfruitful, or has gradually grown too old for him, should not take a second.

There can be no argument about polygamy: it is a fact to be met with everywhere, and the only question is how to regulate it. For who is really a monogamist? We all live in polygamy, at least for a time and usually for good. Since every man needs many women, there could be nothing more just than that he should be free, indeed obliged, to support many women. This would also mean the restoration of woman to her rightful and natural position, the subordinate one, and the abolition from the world of the lady, with her ridiculous claims to respect and veneration; there would then be only women, and no longer unhappy women, of which Europe is at present full.

On Thinking for Yourself

1

As the biggest library if it is in disorder is not as useful as a small but well-arranged one, so you may accumulate a vast amount of knowledge but it will be of far less value to you than a much smaller amount if you have not thought it over for yourself; because only through ordering what you know by comparing every truth with every other truth can you take complete possession of your knowledge and get it into your power. You can think about only what you know, so you ought to learn something; on the other hand, you can know only what you have thought about.

Now you can apply yourself voluntarily to reading and learning, but you cannot really apply yourself to thinking: thinking has to be kindled, as a fire is by a draught, and kept going by some kind of interest in its object, which may be an objective interest or merely a subjective one. The latter is possible only with things that affect us personally, the former only to those heads who think by nature, to whom thinking is as natural as breathing, and these are very rare. That is why most scholars do so little of it.

2

The difference between the effect produced on the mind by thinking for yourself and that produced by reading is incredibly great, so that the original difference which made one head decide for thinking and another for reading is continually increased. For reading forcibly imposes on the mind thoughts that are as foreign to its mood and direction at the moment of reading as the signet is to the wax upon which it impresses its seal. The mind is totally subjected to an external compulsion to think this or that for which it has no inclination and is not in the mood. On the other hand, when it is thinking for itself it is following its own inclination, as this has been more closely determined either by its immediate surroundings or by some recollection or other: for its visible surroundings do not impose some single thought on the mind, as reading does; they merely provide it with occasion and matter for thinking the thoughts appropriate to its nature and present mood. The result is that much reading robs the mind of all elasticity, as the continual pressure of a weight does a spring, and that the surest way of never having any thoughts of your own is to pick up a book every time you have a free moment. The practice of doing this is the reason erudition makes most men duller and sillier than they are by nature and robs their writings of all effectiveness: they are in Pope's words:

For ever reading, never to be read.

3

Fundamentally it is only our own basic thoughts that possess truth and life, for only these do we really understand through and through. The thoughts of another that we have read are crumbs from another's table, the cast-off clothes of an unfamiliar guest.

4

Reading is merely a surrogate for thinking for yourself; it means letting someone else direct your thoughts. Many books, moreover, serve merely to show how many ways there are of being wrong, and how far astray you yourself would go if you followed their guidance. — You should read only when your own thoughts dry up, which will of course happen frequently enough even to the best heads; but to banish your own thoughts so as to take up a book is a sin against the Holy Ghost; it is like deserting untrammelled nature to look at a herbarium or engravings of landscapes.

It may sometimes happen that a truth, an insight, which you have slowly and laboriously puzzled out by thinking for yourself could easily have been found already written in a book; but it is a hundred times more valuable if you have arrived at it by thinking for yourself. For only then will it enter your thought-system as an integral part and living member, be perfectly and firmly consistent with it and in accord with all its other consequences and conclusions, bear the hue, colour and stamp of your whole manner of thinking, and have arrived at just the moment it was needed; thus it will stay firmly and for ever lodged in your mind. This is a perfect application, indeed explanation, of Goethe's lines:

Was du ererbt von deinen Vtern hast,

Erwirb es, um es zu besitzen.【26】

For the man who thinks for himself becomes acquainted with the authorities for his opinions only after he has acquired them and merely as a confirmation of them, while the book-philosopher starts with his authorities, in that he constructs his opinions by collecting together the opinions of others: his mind then compares with that of the former as an automaton compares with a living man.

A truth that has merely been learnt adheres to us only as an artificial limb, a false tooth, a wax nose does, or at most like transplanted skin; but a truth won by thinking for ourself is like a natural limb: it alone really belongs to us. This is what determines the difference between a thinker and a mere scholar.

5

People who pass their lives in reading and acquire their wisdom from books are like those who learn about a country from travel descriptions: they can impart information about a great number of things, but at bottom they possess no connected, clear, thorough knowledge of what the country is like. On the other hand, people who pass their lives in thinking are like those who have visited the country themselves: they alone are really familiar with it, possess connected knowledge of it and are truly at home in it.

6

A man who thinks for himself is related to the ordinary book-philosopher as an eyewitness is to an historian: the former speaks from his own immediate experience. That is why all men who think for themselves are in fundamental agreement: their differences spring only from their differing standpoints; for they merely express what they have objectively apprehended. The book-philosopher, on the contrary, reports what this man has said and that has thought and the other has objected, etc. Then he compares, weighs, criticizes these statements, and thus tries to get to the truth of the matter, in which respect he exactly resembles the critical historian.

7

Mere experience is no more a substitute for thinking than reading is. Pure empiricism is related to thinking as eating is to digestion and assimilation. When empiricism boasts that it alone has, through its discoveries, advanced human knowledge, it is as if the mouth should boast that it alone keeps the body alive.

8

The characteristic mark of minds of the first rank is the immediacy of all their judgements. Everything they produce is the result of thinking for themselves and already in the way it is spoken everywhere announces itself as such. He who truly thinks for himself is like a monarch, in that he recognizes no one over him. His judgements, like the decisions of a monarch, arise directly from his own absolute power. He no more accepts authorities than a monarch does orders, and he acknowledges the validity of nothing he has not himself confirmed.

9

In the realm of actuality, however fair, happy and pleasant we may find it, we are nonetheless always under the influence of gravity, which we have continually to overcome: in the realm of thought, on the contrary, we are disembodied minds, weightless and without needs or cares. That is why there is no happiness on earth to compare with that which a beautiful and fruitful mind finds in a propitious hour in itself.

10

There are very many thoughts which have value for him who thinks them, but only a few of them possess the power of engaging the interest of a reader after they have been written down.

11

Yet, all the same, only that possesses true value which you have thought in the first instance for your own instruction. Thinkers can be divided into those who think in the first instance for their own instruction and those who do so for the instruction of others. The former are genuine thinkers for themselves in both senses of the words: they are the true philosophers. They alone are in earnest. The pleasure and happiness of their existence consists in thinking. The latter are sophists: they want to appear as thinkers and seek their happiness in what they hope thereby to get from others. This is what they are in earnest about. To which of these two classes a man belongs may quickly be seen by his whole style and manner. Lichtenberg is an example of the former class, Herder certainly belongs to the latter.【27】

12

When you consider how great and how immediate is the problem of existence, this ambiguous, tormented, fleeting, dream-like existence — so great and so immediate that as soon as you are aware of it it overshadows and obscures all other problems and aims; and when you then see how men, with a few rare exceptions, have no clear awareness of this problem, indeed seem not to be conscious of it at all, but concern themselves with anything rather than with this problem and live on taking thought only for the day and for the hardly longer span of their own individual future, either expressly refusing to consider this problem or contenting themselves with some system of popular metaphysics; when, I say, you consider this, you may come to the opinion that man can be called a thinking being only in a very broad sense of that term and no longer feel very much surprise at any thoughtlessness or silliness whatever, but will realize, rather, that while the intellectual horizon of the normal man is wider than that of the animal — whose whole existence is, as it were, one continual present, with no consciousness of past or future — it is not so immeasurably wider as is generally supposed.

注　释

【1】　The last four words are in English in the original.

【2】　Brahma is the principal deity of Hinduism. Ormuzd is the good God, Ahriman the bad God of Zoroastrianism, the ancient religion of Persia.

【3】　Capriciously, voluntarily.

【4】　Of earning one's living.

【5】　Democritus (fl. c. 420 BC), Greek philosopher, the founder of atomism. John Locke (1632—1704), the representative British philosopher of the late seventeenth century.

【6】　Relationship between the physical and the moral.

【7】　Marie Francois Xavier Bichat (1771—1802), anatomist and physiologist. Pierre Jean Georges Cabanis (1757—1808), physician and writer on medicine.

【8】　Nicht vorstellbar: not imaginable or conceivable; but in Schopenhauer's usage also bearing the more specific sense of 'not able to be a Vorstellung, an idea'.

【9】　Accidentally.

【10】　'A priori': a first principle, acquired by the mind independently of the experience of the senses. 'Vulgo': generally.

【11】　Blessed life.

【12】　Schopenhauer cites Romans vii and Galatians ii and iii.

【13】　In the strict sense.

【14】　Johannes Paul Friedrich Richter (1763—1825), known by his pen-name of Jean Paul, was one of the most popular German writers of his age. Selina, published posthumously in 1827, is an unsuccessful attempt to think clearly what his religious beliefs actually amount to: Jean Paul decides he cannot accept Christianity, but finds it impossible to surrender a number of beliefs, e. g. the belief in immortality, of which he could never have had any conception except as constituents of the Christian religion he rejects.

【15】　Appeared in Plato's Republic trying to argue that 'might is right'. One of the first cultivators of rhetoric, characterized as being more concerned with winning arguments than with truth.

【16】　Literally, 'A lover of truth'. Generic title for a philosopher.

【17】　Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller (1759—1805) is traditionally Germany's second greatest poet, but much of his verse, of which The Dignity (or Merit or Worth) of Women is a once-famous example, is of the 'good bad' variety, like Walter Scott's. His true genius lay in the field of popular drama, and his best plays are still much performed. Victor Jouy (1764—1846), dramatist.

【18】　Without women, the beginning of our lives would be deprived of security, the middle of pleasure, and the end of consolation.

【19】　Act Ⅰ, scene 2.

【20】　In abstract, by means of concepts.

【21】　By individual intuition.

【22】　Mutual dislike of those in the same trade.

【23】　The second sex, the inferior sex.

【24】　Prostitutes.

【25】　Joy, or happiness.

【26】　What you have inherited from your forefathers you must first win for yourself if you are to possess it.

【27】　Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (1742—99), aphorist and satirist. Johann Gottfried von Herder (1744—1803), theologian, philosopher and man of letters.

APHORISMS

On Philosophy and the Intellect

1

The fundament upon which all our knowledge and learning rests is the inexplicable. It is to this that every explanation, through few or many intermediate stages, leads; as the plummet touches the bottom of the sea now at a greater depth, now at a less, but is bound to reach it somewhere sooner or later. The study of this inexplicable devolves upon metaphysics.

2

For intellect in the service of will, that is to say in practical use, there exist only individual things; for intellect engaged in art and science, that is to say active for its own sake, there exist only universals, entire kinds, species, classes, ideas of things. Even the sculptor, in depicting the individual, seeks to depict the idea, the species. The reason for this is that will aims directly only at individual things, which are its true objective, for only they possess empirical reality. Concepts, classes, kinds, on the other hand, can become its objective only very indirectly. That is why the ordinary man has no sense for general truths, and why the genius, on the contrary, overlooks and neglects what is individual: to the genius the enforced occupation with the individual as such which constitutes the stuff of practical life is a burdensome drudgery.

3

The two main requirements for philosophizing are: firstly, to have the courage not to keep any question back; and secondly, to attain a clear consciousness of anything that goes without saying so as to comprehend it as a problem. Finally, the mind must, if it is really to philosophize, also be truly disengaged: it must prosecute no particular goal or aim, and thus be free from the enticement of will, but devote itself undividedly to the instruction which the perceptible world and its own consciousness imparts to it.

4

The poet presents the imagination with images from life and human characters and situations, sets them all in motion and leaves it to the beholder to let these images take his thoughts as far as his mental powers will permit. That is why he is able to engage men of the most differing capabilities, indeed fools and sages together. The philosopher, on the other hand, presents not life itself but the finished thoughts which he has abstracted from it and then demands that the reader should think precisely as, and precisely as far as, he himself thinks. That is why his public is so small. The poet can thus be compared with one who presents flowers, the philosopher with one who presents their essence.

5

An odd and unworthy definition of philosophy, which however even Kant gives, is that it is a science composed only of concepts. For the entire property of a concept consists of nothing more than what has been begged and borrowed from perceptual knowledge, which is the true and inexhaustible source of all insight. So that a true philosophy cannot be spun out of mere abstract concepts, but has to be founded on observation and experience, inner and outer. Nor will anything worthwhile be achieved in philosophy by synthesizing experiments with concepts such as have been performed so often in the past but especially by the sophists of our own day — I mean by Fichte and Schelling and even more offensively by Hegel, and in the field of ethics by Schleiermacher.【1】 Philosophy, just as much as art and poetry, must have its source in perceptual comprehension of the world: nor, however much the head needs to remain on top, ought it to be so cold-blooded a business that the whole man, heart and head, is not finally involved and affected through and through. Philosophy is not algebra: on the contrary, Vauvenargues【2】 was right when he said: Les grandes pensées viennent du cœur.【3】

6

Mere subtlety may qualify you as a sceptic but not as a philosopher. On the other hand, scepticism is in philosophy what the Opposition is in Parliament; it is just as beneficial, and indeed necessary. It rests everywhere on the fact that philosophy is not capable of producing the kind of evidence mathematics produces.

7

A dictate of reason is the name we give to certain propositions which we hold true without investigation and of which we think ourselves so firmly convinced we should be incapable of seriously testing them even if we wanted to, since we should then have to call them provisionally in doubt. We credit these propositions so completely because when we first began to speak and think we continually had them recited to us and they were thus implanted in us; so that the habit of thinking them is as old as the habit of thinking as such and we can no longer separate the two.

8

People never weary of reproaching metaphysics with the very small progress it has made compared with the very great progress of the physical sciences. But what other science has been hampered at all times by having an antagonist ex officio, a public prosecutor, a king's champion in full armour against it? Metaphysics will never put forth its full powers so long as it is expected to accommodate itself to dogma. The various religions have taken possession of the metaphysical tendency of mankind, partly by paralysing it through imprinting their dogmas upon it in the earliest years, partly by forbidding and proscribing all free and uninhibited expression of it; so that free investigation of man's most important and interesting concern, of his existence itself, has been in part indirectly hampered, in part made subjectively impossible by the paralysis referred to; and in this way his most sublime tendency has been put in chains.

9

The discovery of truth is prevented most effectively, not by the false appearance things present and which mislead into error, nor directly by weakness of the reasoning powers, but by preconceived opinion, by prejudice, which as a pseudo a priori stands in the path of truth and is then like a contrary wind driving a ship away from land, so that sail and rudder labour in vain.

10

Every general truth is related to specific truths as gold is to silver, inasmuch as it can be converted into a considerable number of specific truths which follow from it in the same way as a gold coin can be converted into small change.

11

From one proposition nothing more can follow than what is already contained in it, i. e. than what it itself implies when its meaning is exhausted; but from two propositions, if they are joined together as premises of a syllogism, more can follow than is contained in either of them taken individually — just as a body formed by chemical combination exhibits qualities possessed by none of its constituents. That logical conclusions possess value derives from this fact.

12

What light is to the outer physical world intellect is to the inner world of consciousness. For intellect is related to will, and thus also to the organism, which is nothing other than will regarded objectively, in approximately the same way as light is to a combustible body and the oxygen in combination with which it ignites. And as light is the purer the less it is involved with the smoke of the burning body, so also is intellect the purer the more completely it is separated from the will which engendered it. In a bolder metaphor one could even say: Life is known to be a process of combustion; intellect is the light produced by this process.

13

The simplest unprejudiced self-observation, combined with the facts of anatomy, leads to the conclusion that intellect, like its objectivization the brain, is, together with its dependent sense-apparatus, nothing other than a very intense receptivity to influences from without and does not constitute our original and intrinsic being; thus that intellect is not that in us which in a plant is motive power or in a stone weight and chemical forces: it is will alone which appears in these forms. Intellect is that in us which in a plant is merely receptivity to external influences, to physical and chemical action and whatever else may help or hinder it to grow and thrive; but in us this receptivity has risen to such a pitch of intensity that by virtue of it the entire objective world, the world as idea, appears; and this, consequently, is how its objectivization originates. It will help to make all this more vivid if you imagine the world without any animal life on it. There will then be nothing on it capable of perceiving it, and therefore it will actually have no objective existence at all. Now imagine a number of plants shooting up out of the ground close beside one another. All kinds of things will begin to operate on them, such as air, wind, the pressure of one plant against another, moisture, cold, light, warmth, electricity, etc. Now imagine the receptivity of these plants to influences of this kind intensified more and more: it will finally become sensation, accompanied by the capacity to refer sensation to its cause, and at last perception: whereupon the world will be there, appearing in space, time and causal connexion — yet it will still be merely the result of external influences on the receptivity of the plants. This pictorial representation brings home very well the merely phenomenal existence of the external world and makes it comprehensible: for no one, surely, would care to assert that a state of affairs which consists of perceptions originating in nothing but relations between external influences and active receptivity represents the truly objective, inner and original constitution of all those natural forces assumed to be acting on the plants; that it represents, that is to say, the world of things in themselves. This picture can thus make it comprehensible to us why the realm of the human intellect should have such narrow boundaries, as Kant demonstrates it has in the Critique of Pure Reason.

14

That you should write down valuable ideas that occur to you as soon as possible goes without saying: we sometimes forget even what we have done, so how much more what we have thought. Thoughts, however, come not when we but when they want. On the other hand, it is better not to copy down what we have received finished and complete from without, what we have merely learned and what can in any case be discovered again in books: for to copy something down is to consign it to forgetfulness. You should deal sternly and despotically with your memory, so that it does not unlearn obedience; if, for example, you cannot call something to mind, a line of poetry or a word perhaps, you should not go and look it up in a book, but periodically plague your memory with it for weeks on end until your memory has done its duty. For the longer you have had to rack your brains for something the more firmly will it stay once you have got it.

15

The quality of our thoughts (their formal value) comes from within, their direction, and thus their matter, from without; so that what we are thinking at any given moment is the product of two fundamentally different factors. Consequently, the object of thought is to the mind only what the plectrum is to the lyre: which is why the same sight inspires such very different thoughts in differing heads.

16

How very paltry and limited the normal human intellect is, and how little lucidity there is in the human consciousness, may be judged from the fact that, despite the ephemeral brevity of human life, the uncertainty of our existence and the countless enigmas which press upon us from all sides, everyone does not continually and ceaselessly philosophize, but that only the rarest of exceptions do so. The rest live their lives away in this dream not very differently from the animals, from which they are in the end distinguished only by their ability to provide for a few years ahead. If they should ever feel any metaphysical need, it is taken care of from above and in advance by the various religions; and these, whatever they may be like, suffice.

17

One might almost believe that half our thinking takes place unconsciously. Usually we arrive at a conclusion without having clearly thought about the premises which lead to it. This is already evident from the fact that sometimes an occurrence whose consequences we can in no way foresee, still less clearly estimate its possible influence on our own affairs, will nonetheless exercise an unmistakable influence on our whole mood and will change it from cheerful to sad or from sad to cheerful: this can only be the result of unconscious rumination. It is even more obvious in the following: I have familiarized myself with the factual data of a theoretical or practical problem; I do not think about it again, yet often a few days later the answer to the problem will come into my mind entirely of its own accord; the operation which has produced it, however, remains as much a mystery to me as that of an adding-machine: what has occurred is, again, unconscious rumination. — One might almost venture the physiological hypothesis that conscious thinking takes place on the surface of the brain, unconscious thinking inside it.

18

Considering the monotony and consequent insipidity of life one would find it unendurably tedious after any considerable length of time, were it not for the continual advance of knowledge and insight and the acquisition of even better and clearer understanding of all things, which is partly the fruit of experience, partly the result of the changes we ourselves undergo through the different stages of life by which our point of view is to a certain extent being continually altered, whereby things reveal to us sides we did not yet know. In this way, despite the decline in our mental powers, dies diem docet【4】 still holds indefatigably true and gives life an ever-renewed fascination, in that what is identical continually appears as something new and different.

19

It is quite natural that we should adopt a defensive and negative attitude towards every new opinion concerning something on which we have already an opinion of our own. For it forces its way as an enemy into the previously closed system of our own convictions, shatters the calm of mind we have attained through this system, demands renewed efforts of us and declares our former efforts to have been in vain. A truth which retrieves us from error is consequently to be compared with a physic, as much for its bitter and repellent taste as for the fact that it takes effect not at the moment it is imbibed but only some time afterwards.

Thus, if we see the individual obstinately clinging to his errors, with the mass of men it is even worse: once they have acquired an opinion, experience and instruction can labour for centuries against it and labour in vain. So that there exist certain universally popular and firmly accredited errors which countless numbers contentedly repeat every day: I have started a list of them which others might like to continue.

1. Suicide is a cowardly act.

2. He who mistrusts others is himself dishonest.

3. Worth and genius are unfeignedly modest.

4. The insane are exceedingly unhappy.

5. Philosophizing can be learned, but not philosophy. (The opposite is true.)

6. It is easier to write a good tragedy than a good comedy.

7. A little philosophy leads away from God, a lot of it leads back to him — repeated after Francis Bacon.

8. Knowledge is power. The devil it is! One man can have a great deal of knowledge without its giving him the least power, while another possesses supreme authority but next to no knowledge.

Most of these are repeated parrot fashion without much thought being given to them and merely because when people first heard them said they found them very wise-sounding.

20

Intellect is a magnitude of intensity, not a magnitude of extension: which is why in this respect one man can confidently take on ten thousand and a thousand fools do not make one wise man.

21

What the pathetic commonplace heads with which the world is crammed really lack are two closely related faculties: that of forming judgements and that of producing ideas of their own. But these are lacking to a degree which he who is not one of them cannot easily conceive, so that he cannot easily conceive the dolefulness of their existence. It is this deficiency, however, which explains on one hand the poverty of the scribbling which in all nations passes itself off to its contemporaries as their literature, and on the other the fate that overtakes true and genuine men who appear among such people. All genuine thought and art is to a certain extent an attempt to put big heads on small people: so it is no wonder the attempt does not always come off. For a writer to afford enjoyment always demands a certain harmony between his way of thinking and that of the reader; and the enjoyment will be the greater the more perfect this harmony is: so that a great mind will fully and completely enjoy only another great mind. It is for this same reason that bad or mediocre writers excite disgust and revulsion in thinking heads: and even conversation with most people has the same effect — one is conscious of the inadequacy and disharmony every step of the way.

22

The life of the plants consists in simple existence: so that their enjoyment of life is a purely and absolutely subjective, torpid contentment. With the animals there enters knowledge: but it is still entirely restricted to what serves their own motivation, and indeed their most immediate motivation. That is why they too find complete contentment in simple existence and why it suffices to fill their entire lives; so that they can pass many hours completely inactive without feeling discontented or impatient, although they are not thinking but merely looking. Only in the very cleverest animals such as dogs and apes does the need for activity, and with that boredom, make itself felt; which is why they enjoy playing, and why they amuse themselves by gazing at passers-by; in which respect they are in a class with those human window-gazers who stare at us everywhere but only when one notices they are students really arouse our indignation.

Only in man has knowledge — i. e. the consciousness of other things, in antithesis to mere self-consciousness — reached a high degree and, with the appearance of the reasoning faculty, risen to thought. As a consequence of this his life can, besides simple existence, be filled by knowledge as such, which is to a certain extent a second existence outside oneself in other beings and things. With man too, however, knowledge is mostly restricted to what serves his own motivation, although this now includes motivations less immediate which, when taken together, are called 'practical knowledge'. On the other hand, he usually has no more free, i. e. purposeless, knowledge than is engendered by curiosity and the need for diversion; yet this kind of knowledge does exist in every man, even if only to this extent. In the meantime, when motivation is quiescent, the life of man is to a large extent filled by simple existence, to which fact the tremendous amount of lounging about that goes on and the commonness of that kind of sociability which consists chiefly in mere togetherness, without any conversation, or at the most very scanty conversation, bear witness. Indeed, most people have — in their hearts even if not consciously — as the supreme guide and maxim of their conduct the resolve to get by with the least possible expenditure of thought, because to them thinking is hard and burdensome. Consequently, they think only as much as their trade or business makes absolutely necessary, and then again as much as is demanded by their various pastimes — which is what their conversation is just as much as their play; but both must be so ordered that they can be tackled with a minimum of thought.

Only where intellect exceeds the measure needed for living does knowledge become more or less an end in itself. It is consequently a quite abnormal event if in some man intellect deserts its natural vocation — that of serving the will by perceiving mere relations between things — in order to occupy itself purely objectively. But it is precisely this which is the origin of art, poetry and philosophy, which are therefore produced by an organ not originally intended for that purpose. For intellect is fundamentally a hard-working factory-hand whom his demanding master, the will, keeps busy from morn to night. But if this hard-driven serf should once happen to do some of his work voluntarily during his free time, on his own initiative and without any object but the work itself, simply for his own satisfaction and enjoyment — then this is a genuine work of art, indeed, if pushed to an extreme, a work of genius.

Such a purely objective employment of the intellect, as well as lying behind all artistic, poetical and philosophical achievement of the higher kind, also lies behind all purely scientific achievement in general, is already present in purely scientific study and learning, likewise in any free reflection (i. e. reflection not involved with personal interest) upon any subject whatever. It is the same thing, indeed, which inspires even mere conversation if its theme is a purely objective one, i. e. is not related in any way to the interest, and consequently the will of those taking part in it. Every such purely objective employment of the intellect compares with its subjective employment — i. e. employment in regard to personal interest, however indirectly — as dancing does with walking: for, like dancing, it is the purposeless expenditure of excess energy. On the other hand, the subjective employment of intellect is, of course, the natural one, since intellect arose merely in order to serve will. It is involved not merely in work and the personal drives, but also in all conversation concerning personal affairs and material matters in general; in eating, drinking and other pleasures; in everything pertaining to earning a livelihood; and in utilitarian concerns of every sort. Most men, to be sure, are incapable of any other employment of their intellect, because with them it is merely a tool in service of their will and is entirely consumed by this service, without any remainder. It is this that makes them so arid, so brutishly earnest and incapable of objective conversation; just as the shortness of the bonds joining intellect to will is visible in their face. The impression of narrow-mindedness which often emerges from it in such a depressing fashion is, in fact, only the outward sign of the narrow limitation of their total stock of knowledge to the affairs of their own will. One can see that here there is just as much intellect as a given will requires for its ends and no more: hence the vulgarity of their aspect; and hence also the fact that their intellect subsides into inactivity the moment their will ceases to drive it. They take an objective interest in nothing whatever. Their attention, not to speak of their mind, is engaged by nothing that does not bear some relation, or at least some possible relation, to their own person: otherwise their interest is not aroused. They are not noticeably stimulated even by wit or humour; they hate rather everything that demands the slightest thought. Coarse buffooneries at most excite them to laughter: apart from that they are earnest brutes — and all because they are capable of only subjective interest. It is precisely this which makes card-playing the most appropriate amusement for them — card-playing for money: because this does not remain in the sphere of mere knowledge, as stage plays, music, conversation, etc., do, but sets in motion the will itself, the primary element which exists everywhere. For the rest they are, from their first breath to their last, tradesmen, life's born drudges. All their pleasures are sensuous: they have no feeling for any other kind of pleasure. Talk to them about business, but not about anything else. To be sociable with them is to be degraded. On the other hand, conversation between two people who are capable of some sort of purely objective employment of their intellect is a free play of intellectual energy, though the matter be never so insubstantial and amount to no more than jesting. Such a conversation is in fact like two or more dancing together: while the other sort is like marching side-by-side or one behind the other merely in order to arrive somewhere.

Now this tendency towards a free and thus abnormal employment of the intellect, together with the capacity for it, attains in the genius the point at which knowledge becomes the main thing, the aim of the whole of life; his own existence, on the other hand, declines to a subsidiary thing, a mere means; so that the normal relationship is completely reversed. Consequently, the genius lives on the whole more in the rest of the world, by virtue of his knowledge and comprehension of it, than in his own person. The entirely abnormal enhancement of his cognitive powers robs him of the possibility of filling up his time with mere existence and its aims: his mind needs to be constantly and vigorously occupied. He thus lacks that composure in traversing the broad scenes of everyday life and that easy absorption in them which is granted to ordinary men. So that genius is for the ordinary practical living appropriate to normal mental powers an ill endowment and, like every abnormality, an impediment: for with this intensifying of the intellectual powers, intuitive comprehension of the outside world achieves so great a degree of objective clarity and furnishes so much more than is requisite for serving the will that such an abundance becomes a downright hindrance to this service, inasmuch as to contemplate given phenomena in themselves and for their own sake constantly detracts from the contemplation of their connexions with the individual will and with one another and consequently disturbs and obstructs any clear comprehension of these connexions. For the service of the will an entirely superficial contemplation of things suffices, a contemplation which furnishes no more than their bearing on whatever aims we may have and whatever may be associated with these aims, and consequently consists of nothing but relationships, with the greatest possible degree of blindness towards everything else: an objective and complete comprehension of the nature of things enfeebles knowledge of this sort and throws it into disorder.

23

The difference between the genius and the normal intelligence is, to be sure, only a quantitative one, in so far as it is only a difference of degree: one is nonetheless tempted to regard it as a qualitative one when one considers how normal men, despite their individual diversity, all think along certain common lines, so that they are frequently in unanimous agreement over judgements which are, in fact, false. This goes so far that they have certain basic views which are held in all ages and continually reiterated, while the great minds of every age have, openly or secretly, opposed these views.

24

A genius is a man in whose head the world as idea has attained a greater degree of clarity and is present more distinctly; and since the weightiest and profoundest insight is furnished not by painstaking observation of what is separate and individual but by the intensity with which the whole is comprehended, mankind can expect from him the profoundest sort of instruction. Genius can thus also be defined as an exceptionally clear consciousness of things and therefore also of their antithesis, one's own self. Mankind looks up to one who is thus gifted for disclosures about things and about its own nature.

25

If you want to earn the gratitude of your own age you must keep in step with it. But if you do that you will produce nothing great. If you have something great in view you must address yourself to posterity: only then, to be sure, you will probably remain unknown to your contemporaries; you will be like a man compelled to spend his life on a desert island and there toiling to erect a memorial so that future seafarers shall know he once existed.

26

Talent works for money and fame: the motive which moves genius to productivity is, on the other hand, less easy to determine. It isn't money, for genius seldom gets any. It isn't fame: fame is too uncertain and, more closely considered, of too little worth. Nor is it strictly for its own pleasure, for the great exertion involved almost outweighs the pleasure. It is rather an instinct of a unique sort by virtue of which the individual possessed of genius is impelled to express what he has seen and felt in enduring works without being conscious of any further motivation. It takes place, by and large, with the same sort of necessity as a tree brings forth fruit, and demands of the world no more than a soil on which the individual can flourish. More closely considered, it is as if in such an individual the will to live, as the spirit of the human species, had become conscious of having, by a rare accident, attained for a brief span of time to a greater clarity of intellect, and now endeavours to acquire at any rate the results, the products of this clear thought and vision for the whole species, which is indeed also the intrinsic being of this individual, so that their light may continue to illumine the darkness and stupor of the ordinary human consciousness. It is from this that there arises that instinct which impels genius to labour in solitude to complete its work without regard for reward, applause or sympathy, but neglectful rather even of its own well-being and thinking more of posterity than of the age it lives in, which could only lead it astray. To make its work, as a sacred trust and the true fruit of its existence, the property of mankind, laying it down for a posterity better able to appreciate it: this becomes for genius a goal more important than any other, a goal for which it wears the crown of thorns that shall one day blossom into a laurel-wreath. Its striving to complete and safeguard its work is just as resolute as that of the insect to safeguard its eggs and provide for the brood it will never live to see: it deposits its eggs where it knows they will one day find life and nourishment, and dies contented.

On Aesthetics

1

The intrinsic problem of the metaphysics of the beautiful can be stated very simply: how is it possible for us to take pleasure in an object when this object has no kind of connexion with our desires?

For we all feel that pleasure in a thing can really arise only from its relation to our will or, as we like to put it, our aims; so that pleasure divorced from a stimulation of the will seems to be a contradiction. Yet it is quite obvious that the beautiful as such excites pleasure in us without having any kind of connexion with our personal aims, that is to say with our will.

My solution to this problem has been that in the beautiful we always perceive the intrinsic and primary forms of animate and inanimate nature, that is to say Plato's Ideas thereof, and that this perception stipulates the existence of its essential correlative, the will-less subject of knowledge, i. e. a pure intelligence without aims or intentions. Through this, when an aesthetic perception occurs the will completely vanishes from consciousness. But will is the sole source of all our troubles and sufferings. This is the origin of the feeling of pleasure which accompanies the perception of the beautiful. It therefore rests on the abolition of all possibility of suffering. — If it should be objected that the possibility of pleasure would then also be abolished, one should remember that, as I have often demonstrated, happiness, gratification, is of a negative nature, namely the mere cessation of suffering, pain on the other hand positive. Thus, when all desire disappears from consciousness there still remains the condition of pleasure, i. e. the absence of all pain, and in this case the absence even of the possibility of pain, in that the individual is transformed from a willing subject into a purely knowing subject, yet continues to be conscious of himself and of his actions as a knowing subject. As we know, the world as will is the primary (ordine prior) and the world as idea the secondary world (ordine posterior). The former is the world of desire and consequently that of pain and thousandfold misery. The latter, however, is in itself intrinsically painless: in addition it contains a remarkable spectacle, altogether significant or at the very least entertaining. Enjoyment of this spectacle constitutes aesthetic pleasure.

2

If, however, the individual will sets its associated power of imagination free for a while, and for once releases it entirely from the service for which it was made and exists, so that it abandons the tending of the will or of the individual person which alone is its natural theme and thus its regular occupation, and yet does not cease to be energetically active or to extend to their fullest extent its powers of perceptivity, then it will forthwith become completely objective, i. e. it will become a faithful mirror of objects, or more precisely the medium of the objectivization of the will appearing in this or that object, the inmost nature of which will now come forth through it the more completely the longer perception lasts, until it has been entirely exhausted. It is only thus, with the pure subject, that there arises the pure object, i. e. the complete manifestation of the will appearing in the object perceived, which is precisely the (Platonic) Idea of it. The perception of this, however, demands that, when contemplating an object, I really abstract its position in space and time, and thus abstract its individuality. For it is this position, always determined by the law of causality, which places this object in any kind of relationship to me as an individual; so that only when this position is done away with will the object become an Idea and I therewith a pure subject of knowledge. This is why a painting, by fixing for ever the fleeting moment and thus extricating it from time, presents not the individual but the Idea, the enduring element in all change. But this postulated change in subject and object requires not only that the faculty of knowledge be released from its original servitude and given over entirely to itself, but also that it should remain active to the full extent of its capacity, notwithstanding that the natural spur to its activity, the instigation of the will, is now lacking. Here is where the difficulty and thus the rarity of the thing lies; because all our thought and endeavour, all our hearing and seeing, stand by nature directly or indirectly in the service of our countless personal aims, big and small, and consequently it is the will which spurs on the faculty of knowledge to the fulfilment of its functions, without which instigation it immediately weakens. Moreover, knowledge activated by this instigation completely suffices for practical life, even for the various branches of science, since they direct themselves to the relations between things and not to their intrinsic and inner being. Wherever it is a question of knowledge of cause and effect or of grounds and consequences of any kind, that is to say in all branches of natural science and mathematics, as also in history, or with inventions, etc., the knowledge sought must be an aim of the will, and the more vehemently it strives for it, the sooner it will be attained. Likewise in affairs of state, in war, in finance and business, in intrigues of every sort, and so on, the will must first of all, through the vehemence of its desire, compel the intellect to exert all its energies so as to track down all the reasons and consequences of the affair in question. Indeed, it is astonishing how far beyond the normal measure of its energies the spur of the will can drive a given intellect in such a case.

The situation is quite different with the perception of the objective, intrinsic being of things which constitutes their (Platonic) Idea and which must lie behind every achievement in the fine arts. For the will, which in the former case promoted the endeavour and was indeed indispensable to it, must here take no part whatever: for here only that serves which the intellect achieves quite alone and by its own means and presents as a voluntary gift. For only in the condition of pure knowledge, where will and its aims have been completely removed from man, but with them his individuality also, can that purely objective perception arise in which the (Platonic) Ideas of things will be comprehended. But such a perception must always precede the conception, i. e. the first, intuitive knowledge which afterwards constitutes the intrinsic material and kernel, as it were the soul of an authentic work of art or poem, or indeed of a genuine philosophy. The unpremeditated, unintentional, indeed in part unconscious and instinctive element which has always been remarked in works of genius owes its origin to precisely the fact that primal artistic knowledge is entirely separated from and independent of will, is will-less.

3

As for the objective aspect of this aesthetic perception, that is to say the (Platonic) Idea, it may be described as that which we would have before us if time, the formal and subjective condition of our knowledge, were drawn away, like the glass lens from a kaleidoscope. We see, e. g., the development of bud, flower and fruit and marvel at the driving force which never wearies of producing this series again and again. Our amazement would cease if we could know that with all this changing development we have before us only the one, unchangeable Idea of the plant, which however we are incapable of perceiving as a unity of bud, flower and fruit, but are compelled to apprehend under the form of time through which the Idea is displayed to our intellect in these successive states.

4

If you consider how poetry and the plastic arts always take an individual for their theme and present it with the most careful exactitude in all its uniqueness, down to the most insignificant characteristics; and if you then look at the sciences, which operate by means of concepts each of which represents countless individuals by once and for all defining and designating what is peculiar to them as a species; — if you consider this, the practice of art is likely to seem to you paltry, petty and indeed almost childish. The nature of art, however, is such that in art one single case stands for thousands, in that what art has in view with that careful and particular delineation of the individual is the revelation of the Idea of the genus to which it belongs; so that, e. g., an occurrence, a scene from human life depicted correctly and completely, that is to say with an exact delineation of the individuals involved in it, leads to a clear and profound knowledge of the Idea of humanity itself perceived from this or that aspect. For as the botanist plucks one single flower from the endless abundance of the plant world and then analyses it so as to demonstrate to us the nature of the plant in general, so the poet selects a single scene, indeed sometimes no more than a single mood or sensation, from the endless confusion of ceaselessly active human life, in order to show us what the life and nature of man is. This is why we see the greatest spirits — Shakespeare and Goethe, Raphael and Rembrandt — not disdaining to delineate single individuals, and not even notable ones, and to make them visible before us, and doing so with the greatest exactitude and the most earnest application, in their whole particularity down to the very smallest details. For the particular and individual can be grasped only when it is made visible — which is why I have defined poetry as the art of setting the imagination into action by means of words.

5

A work of plastic art does not show us, as actuality does, that which exists once and never again, namely the union of this particular material with this particular form which constitutes the concrete and individual; it shows us the form alone which, if it were presented completely and in all its aspects, would be the Idea itself. The picture therefore immediately leads us away from the individual to the pure form. The separation of form from material is already a big step towards the Idea: but every picture, whether a painting or a statue, constitutes such a separation. Now it is precisely because the aim of the aesthetic work of art is to bring us to a knowledge of the (Platonic) Idea that it is characterized by this separation, this dividing of the form from the material. It is intrinsic to the work of art to present the form alone, without the material, and to do so manifestly and obviously. This is really the reason waxwork figures make no aesthetic impression and are consequently not works of art (in the aesthetic sense), although when they are well made they produce a far greater illusion of reality than the best picture or statue can and if imitation of the actual were the aim of art would have to be accorded the first rank. For they seem to present not the pure form but with it the material as well, so that they bring about the illusion that the thing itself is standing there. The true work of art leads us from that which exists only once and never again, i. e. the individual, to that which exists perpetually and time and time again in innumerable manifestations, the pure form or Idea; but the waxwork figure appears to present the individual itself, that is to say that which exists only once and never again, but without that which lends value to such a fleeting existence, without life. That is why the waxwork evokes a feeling of horror: it produces the effect of a rigid corpse.

6

The reason the impressions we receive in youth are so significant, the reason why in the dawn of life everything appears to us in so ideal and transfigured a light, is that we then first become acquainted with the genus, which is still new to us, through the individual, so that every individual thing stands as a representative of its genus: we grasp therein the (Platonic) Idea of this genus, which is essentially what constitutes beauty.

7

The beauty and grace of the human figure united together are the will in its most clearly visible form at the highest stage of its objectivization, and this is why they are the supreme achievement of the plastic arts. On the other hand, every material thing is beautiful, consequently every animal is beautiful. If this is not evident to us in the case of certain animals it is because we are not in a position to regard them purely objectively and thus comprehend the Idea of them, but are prevented from doing so by some inescapable thought-association, usually the result of an obtrusive similarity, e. g. that of the ape to man, as a consequence of which instead of grasping the Idea of this animal we see only the caricature of a man. The similarity between the toad and mud and dirt seems to produce the same effect, although this is inadequate to explain the boundless repugnance, indeed terror and horror, which overcomes many people at the sight of this animal, as it does others in the case of the spider: this seems rather to originate in a much deeper, metaphysical and mysterious connexion.

8

Inorganic nature, provided it does not consist of water, produces a very melancholy, indeed oppressive impression upon us when it appears without anything organic. An instance is provided by the regions of bare rock without any vegetation in the long valley near Toulon through which runs the road to Marseille; but the deserts of Africa offer a much more grandiose and impressive example. The sadness of this impression produced upon us by the inorganic derives first and foremost from the fact that the inorganic mass is subject exclusively to the law of gravity, the direction of which consequently dictates everything. — On the other hand, we derive a high degree of immediate pleasure from the sight of vegetation, but this is naturally the greater the more abundant, manifold and extensive — that is to say left to itself — the vegetation is. The immediate reason for this lies in the fact that in vegetation the law of gravity seems to have been overcome, in that the plant world raises itself in precisely the opposite direction from the one dictated by this law and thus directly proclaims the phenomenon of life as a new and higher order of things. We ourselves are part of this order: it is that in nature which is related to us, the element of our existence. Our heart is uplifted in presence of it. What pleases us first and foremost at the sight of the plant world, therefore, is this vertical upward direction, and a group of trees gains vastly from having a couple of straight-rising pointed fir-trees in its midst. On the other hand, a felled tree no longer affects us; indeed, one that has grown up slanting already produces far less effect than an upright one; and it is the down-hanging branches of the weeping willow which have surrendered to gravity that have given this tree its name. — The melancholy effect of the inorganic nature of water is in large part abolished by its great mobility, which produces an impression of life, and by its constant play with light: it is, moreover, the primal condition of our life.

9

A man who tries to live on the generosity of the Muses, I mean on his poetic gifts, seems to me somewhat to resemble a girl who lives on her charms. Both profane for base profit what ought to be the free gift of their inmost being. Both are liable to become exhausted and both usually come to a shameful end. So do not degrade your Muse to a whore.

10

Music is the true universal language which is understood everywhere, so that it is ceaselessly spoken in all countries and throughout all the centuries with great zeal and earnestness, and a significant melody which says a great deal soon makes its way round the entire earth, while one poor in meaning which says nothing straightaway fades and dies: which proves that the content of a melody is very well understandable. Yet music speaks not of things but of pure weal and woe, which are the only realities for the will: that is why it speaks so much to the heart, while it has nothing to say directly to the head and it is a misuse of it to demand that it should do so, as happens in all pictorial music, which is consequently once and for all objectionable, even though Haydn and Beethoven strayed into composing it: Mozart and Rossini, so far as I know, never did. For expression of the passions is one thing, depiction of things another.

11

Grand opera is not really a product of the pure artistic sense, it is rather the somewhat barbaric conception of enhancing aesthetic enjoyment by piling up the means to it, by the simultaneous production of quite disparate impressions and by strengthening the effect through augmenting the masses and forces producing it; while music, as the mightiest of the arts, is capable by itself of completely engrossing the mind receptive to it; indeed, its highest products, if they are to be properly comprehended and enjoyed, demand the undivided and undistracted attention of the entire mind, so that it may surrender to them and immerse itself in them in order to understand their incredibly intimate language. Instead of which, the mind is invaded through the eye, while listening to a highly complex piece of operatic music, by the most colourful pageantry, the most fanciful pictures and the liveliest impressions of light and colour; and at the same time it is occupied with the plot of the action. Through all this it is distracted and confused and its attention is diverted, so that it is very little receptive to the sacred, mysterious, intimate language of music. All these accompaniments are thus diametrically opposed to the attainment of the musical aim.

Strictly speaking one could call opera an unmusical invention for the benefit of unmusical minds, in as much as music first has to be smuggled in through a medium foreign to it, for instance as the accompaniment to a long drawn out, insipid love story and its poetic pap: for a spirited compact poem full of matter is of no use as an opera text, because the composition cannot be equal to such a poem.

The mass and the symphony alone provide undisturbed, fully musical enjoyment, while in opera the music is miserably involved with the vapid drama and its mock poetry and must try to bear the foreign burden laid on it as best it can. The mocking contempt with which the great Rossini sometimes handles the text is, while not exactly praiseworthy, at any rate genuinely musical.

In general, however, grand opera, by more and more deadening our musical receptivity through its three-hours duration and at the same time putting our patience to the test through the snail's pace of what is usually a very trite action, is in itself intrinsically and essentially boring; which failing can be overcome only by the excessive excellence of an individual achievement: that is why in this genre only the masterpieces are enjoyable and everything mediocre is unendurable.

12

Drama in general, as the most perfect reflection of human existence, has three modes of comprehending it. At the first and most frequently encountered stage it remains at what is merely interesting: we are involved with the characters because they pursue their own designs, which are similar to our own; the action goes forward by means of intrigue, the nature of the characters, and chance; wit and humour season the whole. — At the second stage drama becomes sentimental: pity is aroused for the hero, and through him for ourselves; the action is characterized by pathos, yet at the end it comes back to peace and contentment. — At the highest and hardest stage the tragic is aimed at: grievous suffering, the misery of existence is brought before us, and the final outcome is here the vanity of all human striving. We are deeply affected and the sensation of the will's turning away from life is aroused in us, either directly or as a simultaneously sounding harmony.

13

The first step is the hardest — says the popular adage. But in dramaturgy the reverse is true: the last step is the hardest. Evidence of this is the countless dramas the first half of which promises well but which then become confused, halt, waver, especially in the notorious fourth act, and finally come to a forced or unsatisfying end, or to one everybody has long since foreseen; sometimes, as with Emilia Galotti,【5】 the end is even revolting and sends the audience home in a thoroughly bad mood. This difficulty of the dénouement is the result partly of the fact that it is easier to confuse things than to straighten them out again, but partly too of the fact that at the beginning of the play we allow the dramatist carte blanche, while at the end we make certain definite demands of him. We demand that the outcome shall be a completely happy or a completely tragic one — but it is not easy to make human affairs take so definite a direction. We then demand that this outcome shall be achieved naturally, fairly and in an unforced way — and yet at the same time not have been foreseen by the audience.

A novel will be the higher and nobler the more inner and less outer life it depicts; and this relation will accompany every grade of novel as its characteristic sign, from Tristram Shandy down to the crudest and most action-packed romance. Tristram Shandy, to be sure, has as good as no action whatever; but how very little action there is in La Nouvelle Héloïse and Wilhelm Meister!【6】 Even Don Quixote has relatively little, and what there is is very trivial, amounting to no more than a series of jokes. And these four novels are the crown of the genre. Consider, further, the marvellous novels of Jean Paul and see how much inner life is set in motion on the narrowest of external foundations. Even the novels of Walter Scott have a significant preponderance of inner over outer life, and the latter appears only with a view to setting the former in motion; while in bad novels the outer action is there for its own sake. The art lies in setting the inner life into the most violent motion with the smallest possible expenditure of outer life: for it is the inner life which is the real object of our interest. — The task of the novelist is not to narrate great events but to make small ones interesting.

On Books and Writing

1

Writers can be divided into meteors, planets and fixed stars. The first produce a momentary effect: you gaze up, cry: 'Look!' — and then they vanish for ever. The second, the moving stars, endure for much longer. By virtue of their proximity they often shine more brightly than the fixed stars, which the ignorant mistake them for. But they too must soon vacate their place, they shine moreover only with a borrowed light, and their sphere of influence is limited to their own fellow travellers (their contemporaries). The third alone are unchanging, stand firm in the firmament, shine by their own light and influence all ages equally, in that their aspect does not alter when our point of view alters since they have no parallax. Unlike the others, they do not belong to one system (nation) alone: they belong to the Universe. But it is precisely because they are so high that their light usually takes so many years to reach the eyes of dwellers on earth.

2

There are above all two kinds of writer: those who write for the sake of what they have to say and those who write for the sake of writing. The former have had ideas or experiences which seem to them worth communicating; the latter need money and that is why they write — for money. They think for the purpose of writing. You can recognize them by the fact that they spin out their ideas to the greatest possible extent, that their ideas are half-true, obscure, forced and vacillating, and that they usually prefer the twilight so as to appear what they are not, which is why their writings lack definiteness and clarity. You can soon see they are writing simply in order to cover paper: and as soon as you do see it you should throw the book down, for time is precious. — Payment and reserved copyright are at bottom the ruin of literature. Only he who writes entirely for the sake of what he has to say writes anything worth writing. It is as if there were a curse on money: every writer writes badly as soon as he starts writing for gain. The greatest works of the greatest men all belong to a time when they had to write them for nothing or for very small payment: so that here too the Spanish proverb holds good: Honra y provecho no caben en un saco.【7】

A multitude of bad writers lives exclusively on the stupid desire of the public to read nothing but what has just been printed: the journalists. Well named! In English the word means 'day-labourers'.

3

And then again, there can be said to be three kinds of author. Firstly, there are those who write without thinking. They write from memory, from reminiscence, or even directly from other people's books. This class is the most numerous. — Secondly, there are those who think while writing. They think in order to write. Very common. — Thirdly, there are those who have thought before they started writing. They write simply because they have thought. Rare.

Even among the small number of writers who actually think seriously before they start writing, there are extremely few who think about the subject itself: the rest merely think about books, about what others have said about the subject. They require, that is to say, the close and powerful stimulation of ideas produced by other people in order to think at all. These ideas are then their immediate theme, so that they remain constantly under their influence and consequently never attain to true originality. The above-mentioned minority, on the other hand, are stimulated to think by the subject itself, so that their thinking is directed immediately to this. Among them alone are to be discovered those writers who endure and become immortal.

Only he who takes what he writes directly out of his own head is worth reading.

4

A book can never be more than a reproduction of the thoughts of its author. The value of these thoughts lies either in the material, that is in what he has thought upon, or in the form, i. e. the way in which the material is treated, that is in what he has thought upon it.

The upon what is manifold, as are the advantages it bestows on books. All empirical material, that is everything historically or physically factual in itself and in the widest sense, belongs here. The characteristic quality lies in the object, so that the book can be an important one whoever its author may be.

In the case of the what, on the other hand, the characteristic quality lies in the subject. The topics treated can be such as are accessible and familiar to all men, but it is the form in which they are comprehended, the what of the thought, which here bestows value, and this lies in the subject. If, consequently, a book of this sort is admirable and unique, its author is so too; from which it follows that the merit of a writer who is worth reading is the greater the less it owes to his material, and even the more familiar and much-employed this material is. Thus, e. g., the three great Greek tragedians all employed the same material.

Thus when a book becomes famous you should firmly distinguish whether it is on account of its material or on account of its form.

The public is much more interested in the material than in the form. It displays this tendency in its most ridiculous shape in regard to poetic works, in that it painstakingly tracks down the real events or personal circumstances which occasioned the work, and these, indeed, become more interesting to it than the works themselves, so that it reads more about than by Goethe and studies the Faust legend more assiduously than Faust, And if Bürger once said: 'They will undertake learned research into who Lenore really was',【8】 we have seen this literally come to pass in the case of Goethe. — This preference for the material as against the form is as if one should ignore the form and painting of a beautiful Etruscan vase in order to carry out a chemical analysis of the pigment and clay.

5

The actual life of a thought lasts only until it reaches the point of speech: there it petrifies and is henceforth dead but indestructible, like the petrified plants and animals of prehistory. As soon as our thinking has found words it ceases to be sincere or at bottom serious. When it begins to exist for others it ceases to live in us, just as the child severs itself from its mother when it enters into its own existence.

6

Literary periodicals ought to be the dam against the ever-rising flood of bad and unprofitable books produced by the unprincipled scribbling of our age. With the incorruptibility, judiciousness and severity of their judgements, they should scourge without mercy all patchwork put together by incompetents, all the page-filling through which empty heads seek to fill their empty pockets, which is to say nine-tenths of all books, and thus work against triviality and imposture as their duty dictates; instead of which, they promote these things: and their abject tolerance allies itself with author and publisher to rob the public of its time and its money. Their writers are as a rule professors or literati who, because of low salaries or poor payment, write from need of money: so, since they all have a common aim, their interests are in common, they keep together, mutually sustain one another and speak in favour of one another: this is the origin of all the laudatory reviews of bad books which constitute the content of literary periodicals. Their motto ought to be: Live and let live!

Anonymity, that shield for every kind of literary scoundrelism, must disappear. The pretext for its introduction into literary periodicals was that it protected honest critics from the wrath of authors and their patrons. But for every case of this kind there are a hundred cases where it serves merely to allow complete irresponsibility to reviewers who would be unable to defend what they write, or even to conceal the shame of those so venal and abject as to recommend books to the public in exchange for a tip from their publisher. It often merely serves to cloak the obscurity, incompetence and insignificance of the reviewer. It is unbelievable what impudence these fellows are capable of, and from what degree of literary knavery they will not shrink, once they know themselves secure in the shadow of anonymity.

Rousseau already said in the preface to La Nouvelle Héloïse: 'Tout honnête homme doit avouer les livres qu'il publie' — which means in English: 'Every honest man puts his name to what he writes', and universally affirmative propositions can be reversed per contrapositionem.【9】 How much more this applies to polemical writings, which reviews usually are!

7

Style is the physiognomy of the mind. It is less deceptive than that of the body. To imitate the style of another is to wear a mask, and however beautiful this may be its lifelessness soon makes it seem insipid and unendurable, so that the ugliest living face is preferable.

Stylistic affectation can be compared to pulling faces.

8

To arrive at a provisional assessment of a writer's worth it is not necessary to know what or upon what he has thought, because that would mean having to read everything he has written; it is sufficient in the first instance to know how he has thought. Now an exact impression of this how of his thinking, of its essential nature and prevailing quality, is provided by his style. For this reveals the formal nature of all a man's thoughts, which must always remain the same no matter what or upon what he thinks. It is, as it were, the paste from which he moulds all his figures, however various they may be. Just as Eulenspiegel, when asked how long it would take to reach the next town, gave his questioner the apparently senseless answer: 'Walk!' with a view to judging from his pace how far he would get in a certain time, so I read a couple of pages of an author and already know more or less how far I can profit from him.

The first rule, indeed by itself virtually a sufficient condition for good style, is to have something to say.

The dullness and tediousness of the writings of commonplace people might be a consequence of the fact that they are speaking only half-consciously, that is to say not really understanding the meaning of the words they use, since these are something they have learned and received finished and complete, so that what they put together is rather whole phrases (phrases banales) than individual words. This is the origin of the palpable lack of distinct ideas which characterize their writings, since they are without that which imposes distinctness on ideas, individual clear thinking: instead of this, we meet with an obscure indistinct welter of words, with current phrases, hackneyed expressions and fashionable locutions. Their nebulous productions consequently resemble printing with worn-out type.

With regard to the tediousness in writing touched on above, one should add the general observation that there are two kinds of tediousness: an objective and a subjective kind. The objective kind always derives from the deficiency in question, that is from the fact that the author has no clear ideas or information whatever to communicate. For he who has them goes about communicating them in a direct manner and consequently everywhere presents clear, distinct concepts, so that he is neither verbose, nor obscure, nor confused, and consequently he is not tedious. Even if his leading idea is false, it is in this event still clearly thought and well considered, that is to say at least formally correct, so that what he writes always retains some value. On the other hand, an objectively tedious work is, for the same reason, always worthless in every respect. — Subjective tediousness, on the contrary, is only relative: it originates in a lack of interest in the subject on the part of the reader; this, however, originates in the reader's limitations. The most admirable work, consequently, can be subjectively tedious, namely to this or that reader; as, conversely, the worst can be subjectively entertaining to this or that reader because the subject or the writer interests him.

An affected writer is like a man who dresses up so as not to be confused and confounded with the mob, a danger which a gentleman, however ill-clad, never runs. As a certain overdressing and tiré à quatre épingles【10】 thus betrays the plebeian, so an affected style betrays the commonplace mind.

Nevertheless, it is a misguided endeavour to try to write exactly as you speak. Every style of writing should rather retain a certain vestige of affinity with the lapidary style, which is indeed the ancestor of them all. This endeavour is consequently as objectionable as its converse, that is to try to speak as you write, which is at once pedantic and hard to understand.

Obscurity and vagueness of expression is always and everywhere a very bad sign: for in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it derives from vagueness of thought, which in turn comes from an original incongruity and inconsistency in the thought itself, and thus from its falsity. If a true thought arises in a head it will immediately strive after clarity and will soon achieve it: what is clearly thought, however, easily finds the expression appropriate to it. The thoughts a man is capable of always express themselves in clear, comprehensible and unambiguous words. Those who put together difficult, obscure, involved, ambiguous discourses do not really know what they want to say: they have no more than a vague consciousness of it which is only struggling towards a thought: often, however, they also want to conceal from themselves and others that they actually have nothing to say.

Truth is fairest naked, and the simpler its expression the profounder its influence. What declamation over the vanity of human existence, for example, can well make a greater impression than Job's: Homo, natus de muliere, brevi vivit tempore, repletus multis miseriis, qui, tanquam flos, egreditur et conteritur, et fugit velut umbra.【11】 — It is for just this reason that the naive poetry of Goethe stands so incomparably higher than the rhetorical poetry of Schiller. And it is this that accounts for the powerful effect of many folk songs. Everything superfluous is prejudicial.

More than nine-tenths of all literate men and women certainly read nothing but newspapers, and consequently model their orthography, grammar and style almost exclusively on them and even, in their simplicity, regard the murdering of language which goes on in them as brevity of expression, elegant facility and ingenious innovation; indeed, young people of the unlearned professions in general regard the newspaper as an authority simply because it is something printed. For this reason, the state should, in all seriousness, take measures to ensure that the newspapers are altogether free of linguistic errors. A censor should be instituted who, instead of receiving a salary, should receive one louis d'or for every mangled or stylistically objectionable word, error of grammar or syntax, or misemployed preposition he discovers in them, and three louis d'or for every instance of sheer impudent mockery of all style and grammar, with double the sum for any repetition, the amounts to be defrayed by the perpetrators. Or is the German language perhaps anyone's game, a trifle not worthy of that protection of the law which even a dunghill enjoys? — Miserable philistines! — What in the world is to become of the German language if every scribbler and newspaper writer is granted discretionary power to do with it whatever his caprice and folly suggest?

9

An error of style which, with literature in decline and the ancient languages neglected, is becoming more and more common, but is really at home only in Germany, is its subjectivity. It consists in this, that the writer is satisfied so long as he himself understands what he means: the reader may be left to make of it what he can. Unconcerned with this difficulty, the writer proceeds as if he were engaged in a monologue: while what should really be taking place is a dialogue, and indeed one in which the speaker has to express himself the more clearly in that he cannot hear the listener's questions. It is for just this reason that a style should be not subjective, but objective. An objective style is one in which the words are so arranged that the reader is downright compelled to think exactly the same thing as the author has thought. But this will come about only if the author continually remembers that thoughts obey the law of gravity to this extent, that they travel much more easily from head down to paper than they do from paper up to head, so that for the latter journey they require all the assistance we can give them. If it is achieved, the words operate in a purely objective way, like a completed oil-painting; while the subjective style is hardly more effective than a series of blots on a wall: only he whose imagination has chanced to be aroused by them can see in them shapes and pictures — to others they are merely blots. The distinction in question applies to the whole mode of communication, but it can often be demonstrated in individual passages too: for example, I have just read in a new book: 'I have not written so as to increase the number of existing books.' This says the opposite of what the writer intended, and is moreover nonsense.

10

He who writes carelessly makes first and foremost the confession that he himself does not place any great value on his thoughts. For the enthusiasm which inspires the unflagging endurance necessary for discovering the clearest, most forceful and most attractive form of expressing our thoughts is begotten only by the conviction of their weightiness and truth — just as we employ silver or golden caskets only for sacred things or priceless works of art.

11

Few write as an architect builds, drawing up a plan beforehand and thinking it out down to the smallest details. Most write as they play dominoes: their sentences are linked together as dominoes are, one by one, in part deliberately, in part by chance.

12

The guiding principle in the art of composition should be that the human being can think clearly only one thought at a time, so that he should not be asked to think two, not to speak of more than two thoughts at the same time. — But this is what he is being asked to do when parentheses are inserted into sentences which have been broken up to accommodate them, a practice which causes unnecessary and wanton confusion. German writers are the worst offenders in this respect. That their language lends itself to it more readily than other living languages may account for the fact but does not make it commendable. The prose of no language reads so pleasantly and easily as does that of the French, and this is because it is as a rule free of this error. The French writer sets his thoughts down one after the other in the most logical and natural order possible and thus places them before his reader in succession, so that the reader can give his undivided attention to each of them. The German, on the other hand, weaves them together into an involved and twice involved and thrice involved period, because he insists on saying six things at once instead of presenting them one after the other.

The true national characteristic of the Germans is ponderousness:【12】 it is evident in their gait, their activities, their language, their speech, their mode of narrating, their way of understanding and thinking, but especially in their style of writing, in the pleasure they take in long, ponderous, involved periods, where the memory has to bear the burden for a good five minutes, patient and unaided, until, at the end of the period, reason comes into action and the conundrum is solved. This is the kind of thing they enjoy, and if affectation and bombast can be introduced as well, the author revels in it: but Heaven help the reader.

It is obviously counter to all sound reason to clap one thought down straight over another, as if making a cross: but this is what happens when a writer interrupts what he has started to say in order to say something quite different in the middle of it, thus leaving a meaningless half-period in the custody of the reader until the other half comes along. It is like handing a guest an empty plate and leaving him to hope something will appear on it.

This form of construction reaches the height of tastelessness when the parentheses are not even dovetailed organically into the period but, by making a straight breach in it, simply wedged in. If it is an impertinence to interrupt others, it is no less of an impertinence to interrupt oneself, as happens in a form of construction which for some years now every inferior, careless, hasty scribbler with visions of payment before his eyes has employed six times on every page and enjoyed doing so. It consists — precept and example should, where possible, go together — in breaking off one phrase in order to stick another into it. They do it, however, not only from laziness, but also from stupidity, in that they take it for a pleasant légèreté【13】 which enlivens the discourse. — In rare individual cases it may be excusable.

13

No literary quality — persuasiveness, for instance, or richness of imagery, a talent for metaphors, boldness, astringency, conciseness, gracefulness, facility of expression, wit, striking contrast, laconism, simplicity — can be acquired by reading writers who display it. But if we already possess any such quality as a natural tendency, that is potentia,【14】 we can by reading summon it up in ourselves, become conscious of it, see what can be made of it, be fortified in our inclination, indeed in the courage to employ it, judge of its effectiveness, and thus learn how to use it correctly: and only then shall we also possess it actu.【15】 This, then, is the only way in which reading can teach writing: it instructs us in the use we can make of our own natural gifts; thus it can instruct us only when we possess such gifts. If we do not possess them we can learn from reading nothing but cold dead mannerism, and become superficial imitators.

14

As the strata of the earth preserve in succession the living creatures of past epochs, so the shelves of libraries preserve in succession the errors of the past and their expositions, which like the former were very lively and made a great commotion in their own age but now stand petrified and stiff in a place where only the literary palaeontologist regards them.

15

According to Herodotus, Xerxes wept at the sight of his enormous army to think that, of all these men, not one would be alive in a hundred years' time; so who cannot but weep at the sight of the thick fair catalogue to think that, of all these books, not one will be alive in ten years' time.

16

The art of not reading is a very important one. It consists in not taking an interest in whatever may be engaging the attention of the general public at any particular time. When some political or ecclesiastical pamphlet, or novel, or poem is making a great commotion, you should remember that he who writes for fools always finds a large public. — A precondition for reading good books is not reading bad ones: for life is short.

17

Buying books would be a good thing if one could also buy the time to read them in: but as a rule the purchase of books is mistaken for the appropriation of their contents.

18

In the history of the world half a century is a considerable period, because its material is always changing, inasmuch as something is always happening. In the history of literature, on the other hand, half a century is often no time at all, because nothing has happened: things are as they were fifty years before.

It is consistent with this state of things that we should see the scientific, literary and artistic Zeitgeist declared bankrupt about every thirty years: for during this period the errors contained in it have grown to such proportions as to crush it by the weight of their absurdity, while the opposing view has at the same time been strengthened by them. So now there is a sudden change: but what often succeeds is an error in the opposite direction. To exhibit the periodical recurrence of this state of things would be the true pragmatic material of literary history.

I wish someone would one day attempt a tragic history of literature, showing how the various nations which now take their highest pride in the great writers and artists they can show treated them while they were alive. In such a history, the author would bring visibly before us that endless struggle which the good and genuine of all ages and all lands has to endure against the always dominant bad and wrong-headed; depict the martyrdom of almost every genuine enlightener of mankind, almost every great master of every art; show us how, with a few exceptions, they lived tormented lives in poverty and wretchedness, without recognition, without sympathy, without disciples, while fame, honour and riches went to the unworthy; how, that is, their lot was that of Esau, who while out hunting and catching game for his father was robbed by Jacob of his father's blessing; but how, in spite of all, love of their cause sustained them, until the hard struggle of such an educator of the human race was at last consummated, the never-fading laurel-wreath beckoned and the hour struck in which for him too:

Der schwere Panzer wird zum Flügelkleide,

Kurz ist der Schmerz, unendlich ist die Freude.【16】

注　释

【1】　Johann Gottlieb Fichte (1762—1814), Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling (1775—1854), Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770—1831): German philosophers, the most influential of their age and the subject of constant attack by Schopenhauer. Friedrich Ernst Daniel Schleiermacher (1768—1834), theologian: when Schopenhauer attacks 'Rationalism' in religion it is Schleiermacher he has in mind.

【2】　Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de Vauvenargues (1715—47), 'moralist' in the French sense.

【3】　Great thoughts spring from the heart.

【4】　'The day teaches the day' — there is something new every day.

【5】　Tragedy by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729—81), a leader of the Enlightenment in Germany and the principal German dramatist before the age of Goethe and Schiller.

【6】　La Nouvelle Héloïse is by Rousseau, Wilhelm Meister by Goethe.

【7】　Honour and money don't belong in the same purse.

【8】　Gottfried August Bürger (1747—94), poet. His ballad Lenore (1773) is one of the most famous of all German poems.

【9】　By contraposition

【10】　Dressing up to the nines.

【11】　Job 14, 1—2: Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.

【12】　Schwerflligkeit: heaviness, clumsiness, slowness, awkwardness, ponderousness.

【13】　Lightness of touch.

【14】　Potential

【15】　In fact.

【16】　The heavy armour becomes the light dress of childhood; the pain is brief, the joy unending.

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下文将要提到的想法可能还不够流行，尚不足以得到广泛的支持。长期以来人们对某件事情已经习以为常，因此让它看上去似乎并无不妥。出于对传统的维护，一些人对本文中提出的观点首先会表现得怒不可遏。然而，他们的愤怒很快便会平息。时间比理性更能够让人改变观念。

鉴于长期滥用权力通常引发人们对权力本身正当性的疑问（其他事情也是这样，如果不是受难者被激怒，开始刨根问底的话，人们可能永远不会考虑到这些事情），鉴于英国国王决定亲自出面履行“自身权利”支持（被他称为）“他们的”国会，鉴于这个国家善良的人们受到以上诸多因素的沉重压迫，他们毫无疑问有权质疑上述两项权力的正当性，并且同样地有权拒绝任何人篡夺权力。

在下文中，作者力求避免将个人化的东西掺杂其中。因此，文中不存在对任何个人的颂扬或者责难。智者和杰出人士都不需要借助一本小册子为自己锦上添花；至于那些愚钝或不友善之人也将止乎于礼，就让他们顺其自然吧，除非我们花费太多的功夫去转化他们。

美洲的事业在很大程度上是全人类的事业。已经和将要发生的很多事情的影响并不限于本地区，而是具有普遍性，关系到所有爱人类的人所坚守的原则，而在这一过程中，他们的爱事关重大。凭借火和剑将一个国家夷为荒原，公然挑战人类共同的与生俱来的权利，意欲消灭人类权利的捍卫者，这是每一个拥有情感与理智的人所共同关注的问题。不管是否会遭受政治责难，作者本人即是其中的一员。

又及：本书新版本的出版时间有所推迟，旨在收集对这一“独立学说”的反对意见。鉴于目前还没有人回应，现在只能认为没有人提出异议，因为向公众征集意见的时间早已经过去。

此书的作者是谁，公众完全不必知道，因为需要关注的是“独立学说”本身，而不是作者本人。不过也许需要说明一点，作者不归属于任何党派，不受任何群体或个人的影响，只是尊崇理性和原则。

1776年2月14日于费城

关于政府的起源和构成的常识，包括对于英国政体的简要描述

一些作者将社会和政府混淆起来，对两者很少或者不做区分。然而，两者不仅是有区别的，而且起源亦有不同。社会源自我们的需求，而政府源于我们的罪恶。前者汇集我们的爱心，从正面入手提升我们的幸福，而后者则约束我们的罪恶，从反面入手提升我们的幸福。一个推动交流，另一个制造差别。前者是守护者，后者是惩罚者。

在任何状态下，社会都给人带来很多好处，而政府即使是在最佳状态下也不过是一种必要之恶，在最糟糕的状态下则令人难以忍受。在我们遭受苦难时，或者受到由政府导致的同样的困苦时，虽然这种苦难即使是在没有政府的国家也会遇到，但想到是我们自己制造了苦难，我们会更感痛苦。像衣服一样，政府的存在是失去纯真的标志；国王的宫殿是建立在天国凉亭的废墟之上的。因为如果良心的召唤是清晰和始终如一的，而且得以不容抗拒地被遵循，人类就不需要另设立法者；然而有时实际情况并非如此，人们发现必须要拿出部分财产来建立保护好自己其余财产的机制；就像在处理其他情形时一样，人类的理智在提醒自己，两害相权取其轻。既然保障安全是设立政府的出发点和终结点，那么毫无疑问，最能保障我们安全，而且成本最小、能带来最大利益的政府是所有人都喜欢的，不论这一政府呈现何种形式。

为了明确和正确地了解政府的构成和目的，让我们来假设这样一种场景：在地球上某个偏僻的角落居住着一小群人，他们与世隔绝，代表了在某个国家或这个世界上居住的第一批人。在这个天然的自由状态下，社会是他们首先想到的事情。有上千条理由促使他们这样做，包括：凭个人的力量难以满足所有需求；精神状态不能适应长期的孤独。这些理由很快迫使一个人寻求他人的帮助和慰藉，而其他人反过来也有相同的需求。如果有四五个人团结在一起，还是可以在旷野中生存下去的。而单个人则不然，他可能终身劳碌而无所得：他可以伐倒一棵大树，但却无法将它移走，而且即使能够将它移走，却不能把它竖立起来；饥饿会迫使他中断劳动，种种不同的需求会使他应接不暇。疾病乃至各种不幸都可能意味着死亡，因为虽然每一项都不足以致命，但是每一项都会让他丧失生活能力，让他陷于一种与其说是等死，不如说是等待被毁灭的状态。

因此，就像万有引力一样，需求很快推动新移民组成社会。社会成员之间的相互扶助取代了法律规定和政府管制，因为在大家彼此公正相待的情况下，法律规定和政府管制也就丧失了其存在的意义。然而，除天堂外，任何地方都可能孕育邪恶。在一步步战胜移民后最初遭遇的困难的过程中——正是这些困难把他们团结起来——邪恶也不可避免地侵蚀了他们。他们开始逐渐疏于自己的职守并放松对彼此的依赖。这样的懈怠意味着，他们需要建立某种形式的政府来弥补道德方面的缺陷。

在附近的一棵大树下，诞生了他们的“国会”。聚居区的所有居民都可以聚集在大树下讨论公共事务。几乎可以肯定的是，他们最初通过的法律只是拥有法规之名，惩罚措施也仅表现为大家的轻蔑。在最初的议会中，每个人都自然而然地拥有一个席位。

然而，随着聚居区的扩大，公共事务也随之增加。由于聚居区成员居住分散，每次会议都召集所有人参加就变得非常困难。此时的情况已不比当初，那时居民数量小，居住地临近，而且公共事务数量少而琐碎。这种情况让人们认识到，从全体成员中选择少数人来代表他们处理立法事务更为可行。大家认为，这些代表与选择他们的人关心同样的事务，而且处理这些事务的方式也与全体居民在场时无异。如果聚居区继续扩大，居民代表人数也需要增加，聚居区每个区域的利益都需要考虑到。人们发现，最好的做法是在整个聚居区中划分大小适宜的区域，每个区域委派适宜数量的代表。另外人们还意识到，为了确保当选代表不会谋求与选民不一致的利益，有必要让选举经常化。因为那样一来，当选代表会在几个月后回归并且融入到全体选民集体中；而且考虑到以权谋私的后果，他们对公众的忠诚度因此得以保障。由于在频繁的相互交流中，不同的区域间会产生相同的利益，他们会自然而然地相互支持。政府的力量以及被统治者的幸福都源于这样的基础，而不是无实际意义的国王称谓。

政府就是这样出现和成长起来的。换言之，由于道德品质本身不足以统治世界，政府治理模式才得以诞生。此时，人们亦可以领会到政府存在的出发点和目的，即保障自由和安全。即使雪的强光刺激可能会使我们感到眼花目眩，即使声音可能会欺骗我们的耳朵，即使偏见会扭曲我们的意志，或者利益的诱惑会影响我们的理解力，但自然和理性会用简洁的声音告诉我们：这样做是对的。

我对政府形式的认识受自然界一个原则的启发，这是一个不能够推翻的原则，即一个事物越简单，就越不易出问题，而且即使出了问题也更容易被修复。基于这一原则，我想针对备受吹捧的英国政体谈谈自己的一些看法。目前的英国政体诞生于黑暗的奴隶制时代，就当时的环境而言，它的先进性是毫无疑问的。在世界处于专制统治下的时候，任何改变专制的行动都是伟大的。然而，显而易见的是，现在的英国政体并不完善，容易引发社会动荡，并且不能兑现自己的承诺。

尽管专制政府是违反人性的，但这种形式具有这样的优势，即他们是简单的。在人民遭受苦难时，他们知道这些苦难源自何处，知道如何去解决，而且不会迷惑于各种各样的原因和解决之道中。然而，英国的政体极其复杂，以至于在整个国家经受了多年的苦难后，还不能发现问题的症结所在。一些人说在这里，而另外一些人则说在那里，而且每个政治医生会推荐不同的药方。

我知道，要克服狭隘的以及存在已久的偏见是困难的，然而如果我们认真审视英国政体的组成部分，我们就会发现它包括了历史上两类专制政体的基本特征，并且融合了一些共和的新成分。

首先是国王代表的君主专制遗存。

其次是由贵族代表的贵族专制遗存。

最后是下议院议员代表的新共和成分。英国的自由取决于这些人的品质。

前两者为世袭制，与人民没有关联。因此，从其本质上看，他们对促进国家的自由毫无裨益。

认为英国政体是三种互相“制衡”的力量的“结合”是可笑的。要么这些词毫无意义，否则它们就是明显的自相矛盾。

认为下议院议员监督国王行为则以下面两大要素为先决条件：

首先，在没有人监督的情况下，国王是不可信任的。换句话说，对绝对权力的渴望是君主制的通病。

其次，被任命监督国王行为的下议院议员们要么比国王更聪明，要么比国王更值得信任。

然而，同一个政体赋予下议院议员监督国王的权力，允许他们控制对国王的物资供应，却又给予国王牵制下议院议员的权力，允许国王否决他们其他方面的法案；这又假定国王比那些本来应比他聪明的人更聪明。多么荒唐！

在君主政体的构成中，有些地方极其可笑。它首先剥夺了一个人获得信息的手段，然后又授权他在需要最明智决断的事情上发挥作用。生存环境让国王与外界隔绝，然而国王的职责要求他通晓天下大事。因此，由于这种人为的安排，这些不同方面互相排斥，互相损毁，证明整个君主政体是荒唐而无用的。

一些人这样来解释英国政体：他们说国王是一方面，人民是另一方面；上议院的贵族代表国王的利益，下议院议员代表人民的利益；但是这给人的印象是议会被分割成了对立的两派。所以虽然措辞很漂亮，但是仔细审视下，这些解释显得空洞而且含糊不清。这样的事情经常发生：即使是最漂亮的词句，如果用来描述要么是不存在，要么是难以理解、无法用语言表达的事情时，它们也不过是一些能发音的词汇而已。它们可能听上去很悦耳，但却不能传递出任何信息，因为在以上的解释中，有一个问题需要首先回答，即国王是如何得到人民不愿给予，而且需要一直牵制的权力的？聪明的民族是不会给予这样的权力的，而且任何权力，如果还需要有人牵制，也不可能是来自于上帝。然而这一政体做出的安排却认为存在这样的权力。

这是一种让人失望的安排。这样的政体要么没有能力，要么不想去满足人民的愿望，做整个安排无异于自杀。因为天平上较重的一头总是会使较轻的一头翘起，而一部机器的所有轮子是由一个来带动的，现在只需要了解在英国的政体中哪一个分量最重，就可以知道谁是统治者了。尽管其他势力，或者是其他势力中的一部分，会阻碍或者（正如俗语所说的那样）牵制运动的速度，然而如果他们没有能力让它停下来，他们的努力将是徒劳的。第一驱动力最终会如愿以偿，而且速度上的缺憾会通过时间得到补偿。

王权是英国政体中最显赫的部分，这一点已无需赘言。君主可以通过授予官职和津贴来实现自己所有的目的，这也是显而易见的。因此，虽然我们明智地关闭并且锁上了通向君主专制的一扇门，我们却同时愚蠢地让国王拥有打开这扇门的钥匙。

英国人对自己的国王、由贵族参加的上议院和由平民参加的下议院组成的政府有偏爱，这种偏爱更多是来自民族自豪感，而非理性。相比其他一些国家，人们在英国无疑更为安全，然而国王的意愿就是法律，在英国和法国都是如此。区别在于，英国国王的意愿非他自己直接说出，而是通过令人敬畏的议会的决议传达给人民。查理一世的命运使得国王们变得更加含蓄，而不是更加公正。

因此，排除民族自豪感以及对模式和形式的偏爱，一个明显的事实是：完全是人民的品质，而非政府体制决定了英国国王不像土耳其国王那样暴虐。

在这个时候，探讨英国政府构成中存在的错误是十分有必要的。原因在于，如果我们继续让偏爱思维影响我们，我们便永远不可能对公平地对待别人；如果我们继续被顽固的偏见所桎梏，我们也不可能对自己公正。就像迷恋娼妓的男人不适合选择或者评价妻子一样，任何事先偏爱一个腐朽政体的思想也会让我们没有能力发现好的政体。

关于君主制和世袭制

鉴于人们生来是平等的，这种平等只能是在后来发生的事件被破坏的。贫富的不同是可以得到很好的解释的，而且在解释的时候不必使用压迫和贪婪这样刺耳、难听的字眼。压迫是一些人致富之后出现的情况，而很少或者从来不是致富发家的手段。尽管贪心会让人避免陷入穷困潦倒的境地，但总的来说它也会让人过于谨慎，难以致富。

然而，有另外一种更大的差别是无法用真正的自然或者宗教的原因来解释的，这就是国王和臣民的区别。男人和女人是自然界的产物，好和坏由上帝来区分。然而一类人生来地位就高于他人，而且就像新生物种一样声名显赫，这种现象是值得探究的。此外还需要了解的是，他们会给人类带来幸福还是苦难？

根据圣经记载，在世界诞生之初不存在国王，也没有战争，因为正是国王的骄傲把人类卷入战争。荷兰在过去一个世纪中都没有国王，然而它享受的和平却比欧洲任何君主制政府国家都要多。历史也证明了这一点，因为早期的族长们非常享受宁静的乡村生活，但这种快乐随着犹太王权的诞生而消失了。

国王统治最初是由异教徒创立的，而犹太人的后代抄袭了这一体制。这是魔鬼为推动偶像崇拜推出的最成功的发明。异教徒赋予他们去世的国王以神的光彩，而基督教世界则更进一步，给在世的国王也罩上神的光环。把神的威严赋予一个小人物，让它在辉煌灿烂中坠入尘埃，这是一件多么不恭敬的事情啊。

把一个人高高抬升于他人之上，这不符合自然界平等的原则，也不能指望从圣经中寻找根据。基甸和先知撒母耳说过，上帝很明确地表示不赞成王权政治。圣经中所有反对君主制的内容都被君主制政府巧妙地掩饰了，但是尚未建立政府的国家无疑需要对此予以关注。“把属于凯撒的交给他”，这是宫廷奉行的圣经教义，然而这不能成为君主制政府存在的依据，因为那时候犹太人还没有国王，仍在罗马人统治之下。

从摩西描述的创世纪开始，近三千年之后，犹太人才出于对国家的幻想要求设立国王。在此之前，他们的政府形式（除了在上帝介入时的几次特殊情况外）是一种共和制，管理权归士师和部族长老。他们没有国王，而且除了上帝，视任何人为王都被视为罪过。如果认真思考一下坐王位的人得到的偶像般的崇拜，人不必奇怪上帝也会嫉妒他们的荣光，因而不会赞成这样不恭敬地侵犯了上帝特权的政府形式。

在圣经中，君主制被列为犹太人的罪之一，而且犹太人也因此受到了惩罚。相关历史值得深思。

犹太人的后代受到米甸人的压迫，于是基甸带领一支小军队与他们战斗。因为神的介入，基甸的军队获胜了。欢欣鼓舞的犹太人把胜利归功于基甸领导有方，提议拥他为王。他们说：“你们来统治我们吧，你和你的儿子，以及你儿子的儿子”。这是最极致的诱惑，不仅是统治一个王国，而且是可以让后代继承王国。但是虔诚的基甸回答说：“我不会统治你们，我的儿子也不会统治你们。上帝会统治你们。”他的话再清楚不过了。基甸不是拒绝这一荣耀，而是认为犹太人没有给与他这种荣耀的权力。基甸也没有言不由衷地向犹太人表示感谢，而是厌恶地以先知者的方式主动把他们交付给他们真正的主人——上帝。

大概在130年之后，他们又一次犯了同样的错误。犹太人对异教徒偶像崇拜的追求非常难以解释。情况是这样的，撒母耳的两个儿子受命管理一些俗界事务，有一天，人们发现他们两个行为不端，于是就吵吵嚷嚷地来到撒母耳面前，对撒母耳说：“你看你年龄大了，而你的儿子跟你走的路不一样，现在给我们一个国王来评判我们吧，就像其他国家一样。”现在我们只能说他们的动机是有害的，因为他们想和其他民族的人，也就是异教徒们一样，而他们真正的荣耀在于与他们不同，差别越大越好。听到犹太人说“给我们一个国王来评判我们吧”，撒母耳很不高兴。撒母耳向上帝祈祷，上帝对撒母耳说，倾听他们对你说的话吧，因为他们没有抛弃你，而是抛弃了我。我不再统治他们了。从我带他们出埃及一直到今天他们的行为来看，他们已经抛弃了我，效忠其他的神。他们也效忠你。因此，倾听他们的声音吧，但是严肃地告诉他们你的反对意见，并且让他们了解国王是如何统治他们的。”这里所指的并非某个具体的国王，而是以色列人急于得到的尘世间国王的通常做法。尽管不同国王所处时代和做事方式不同，这种本质一直未变。“撒母耳把上帝的话告诉了希望得到一个国王的犹太人。他还告诉他们，管辖你们的王必这样行，他必派你们的儿子为他赶车、跟马，奔走在车前。”（这段描述符合当今役使他人的人的行径）“又派他们作千夫长，五十夫长，为他耕种田地，收割庄稼，打造军器和车上的器械。必取你们的女儿为他制造香膏，做饭烤饼。”（这段话描述了国王的奢侈消费以及对别人的压迫。）“也必取你们最好的田地和葡萄园、橄榄园，赐给他的臣仆。你们的粮食和葡萄，他必取十分之一给他的军官和臣仆。”（由此我们可以看到，贿赂、贪污、以其偏袒，是国王惯常的毛病）“又必取你们十分之一的仆人婢女、健壮的少年人和你们的驴，供他差役。你们的羊群，他必取十分之一，你们也必做他的仆人。那时你们必因所选的王哀求耶和华，耶和华却不应允你们。”这就是君主制度下人民的生活情况。虽然也曾出现过几位优秀的国王，但是单凭他们几个人的品行不足以让这个称号神圣化，也不能抹去君主制度初期的罪恶。人们对大卫的颂词中，忽略了他担任国王期间的表现，只是把他称为一个符合上帝心愿的人。“百姓竟不肯听撒母耳的话，说，不然。我们定要一个王治理我们，使我们像列国一样，有王治理我们，统领我们，为我们争战。”撒母耳继续规劝他们，但是没有效果。他向他们指出这样做是忘恩负义，但是这样说也没有用。看到他们执意要做这件愚蠢的事情，撒母耳喊道：“我求告耶和华，他必打雷降雨，（这是一种惩罚，因为当时正值麦收季节）使你们明白，你们求立王的事是在耶和华面前犯大罪了。于是撒母耳求告耶和华，耶和华就在这日打雷降雨，众民便甚惧怕耶和华和撒母耳。众民对撒母耳说，求你为仆人们祷告耶和华你的神，免得我们死亡，因为我们求立王的事正是罪上加罪了。”圣经这一部分的表述是直接了当的，不容许有含糊的解释。在这里，上帝对君主制政府表达了不满，这是准确无误的，除非是圣经记载有误。人们有充足的理由相信在教皇制度下的国家，国王和牧师都会耍手腕不让公众知道圣经的真实内容。任何形式的君主制都是政治上的教皇制。

在君主制度之外，我们又给自己增加了另外一项罪恶的制度，那就是世袭制。如果说引入第一项是我们对自己的自我贬损，那么被称为天然权利的第二项则是对后代子孙的侮辱与强迫。既然人最初都是平等的，没有人天生拥有让自己的家庭永久凌驾于其他家庭之上的权力。即使他自己可能值得同时代的人尊重，然而他的子孙们也许远没有继承这些荣耀的资格。最可以证明王位世袭制度愚蠢的一个来自自然界的证据是，自然界不赞成这种制度，否则她不会屡次安排愚蠢的人继承王位。这难道不是对世袭制度的讽刺吗？

其次，除了别人授予的头衔外，没有人在最初还拥有其他公众头衔。授予这些头衔的人没有权利放弃后代子孙的权利。虽然他们可以说，“我们选择你做我们的领头人”，但是却不能够说“你的孩子以及你孩子的孩子可以永久地统治我们”而不让人感觉到这对他们的子女明显不公。因为如果存在这样一个不明智、不公正并且违反常理的协议，在世袭制度下经过了一轮权利交接后，后代子孙会（有这种可能）被置于一个恶棍或者傻瓜领导的政府统治下。大多数明智的人都在私下鄙视世袭权，然而世袭制是一种邪恶的制度，它一旦确立就不容易被消除掉。很多人因为恐惧而屈服，一些人因为迷信而服从，而一些强势的人则与国王共同掠夺百姓。

我们一直在认为目前的国王们有光彩的出身，然而更有可能的是，如果我们可以揭开历史的面纱，追溯他们的发迹史，我们会发现开国国王不过是一帮无赖团伙中的一个领头人。他的野蛮举止和精明过人为他赢得了团体首领的位置。随着力量的壮大以及更多的掠夺，他让沉默的和没有防卫能力的人产生了敬畏，并且通过经常进贡来获取他的保护。然而，他的选民不想给予他的后代世袭权，因为长期被剥夺权利与他们声称要坚持的自由和不受约束的原则相悖。君主制度初期出现的世袭不是因为被赋予了这样的权利，而是属于偶发情况或者人们对贤王表达感激的一种做法。不过，关于当时情况的记录流传下来的非常少甚至没有了，而传说中的历史又有太多不真实的地方，因此在经过了几代人之后，很容易编造一些穆罕默德式的迷信故事来向平民灌输世袭权利的思想。有可能很多人担心领导者去世后，选择新领导人的过程会引发混乱（因为涉及恶棍们的选举是不会非常有秩序的），于是起初会支持世袭的主张。世袭的做法就这样出现了，起初的权宜做法到后来被声称是一种权利。

自英格兰被诺曼底人征服以来，这里出现过的贤明君主就非常少，更多的是邪恶的王，英格兰在他们的压迫下痛苦地呻吟。没有任何一个头脑清楚的人认为在征服者威廉之后的世袭权是十分光彩的。一个法国杂种率领一帮武装匪徒在英国登陆，并且没有征得当地人同意便自立为王，用通俗的话来说，这样的发迹有令人鄙视的流氓色彩，与神性没有关系。然而，我们不必要在揭露继承权的愚蠢方面花太多时间，如果有弱智的人希望这种权利存在，那么就让他们不分青红皂白地去崇拜驴子和狮子去吧，欢迎这样做。我既不会效仿他们的谦虚，也不会打扰他们的忠诚。

然而我很愿意问问，在他们看来第一个国王是如何产生的。这一问题只允许有三个答案，即要么是靠抽签，要么靠选举，要么就是靠篡权。如果第一个国王是抽签产生的，这就为下一任总统开了个先例，这样也就排除了世袭。扫罗是靠抽签当上国王的，因而他的继承人就不是世袭产生的，而且看起来也没有任何这样做的意图。如果任何一个国家的第一个国王都是由选举产生的，这同样也为下一任总统的产生办法树立了先例。声称早期选民不仅选举国王，而且选择国王家族的人永远统治他们因而剥夺了所有后代人的权利，这样的说法在圣经中和其他文献中都找不到，除非是在原罪教义中。原罪学说认为，所有人的自由意志力都随着亚当偷食禁果而丧失了。然而这一例子，而且只能举出这么一个例子，并不能给世袭制带来什么光彩。由于亚当的行为，所有人都有罪，而由于初期选民的行为，所有人都不得不服从。在一种情形中所有人都被撒旦控制，而在另一种情形中所有人都屈从于国王。在第一种情形中，我们失去了纯真；在第二种情形中，我们失去了权力。因为两种情形下我们都被剥夺了昔日的状态和基本公民权力，原罪和世袭制无可辩驳地属于相同情形。多么丢人的排列啊！不光彩的联系！然而，即使是最高明的辩论家也无法对此做出更好的解释。

至于篡权说法，没有人会大胆到去捍卫它。征服者威廉是个篡权者，这是无可否认的事实。明摆着的真相就是，英国君主制的历史经不住细究。

然而，世袭制影响人类的主要方面不是它的荒诞性，而在于它的危害性。假设它能够保证继承王位的是一批优秀、睿智的人，它当然可以得到神权的印记。然而，当它把大门向愚蠢、邪恶以及不合适的人敞开时，它就具有了压迫的特点。那些认为自己生来就具有统治别人的权利，别人生来就应该服从他们的人，很快就会变得傲慢起来。因为从小就与别人不同，他们的思想很早就被妄自尊大毒害了。他们生活的圈子与外面的大世界有很多实质上的不同，这样他们就很少有机会了解整个世界的利益所在。在他们继承政权后，他们通常是整个国家里最无知、最无能的人。

世袭制度的另外一项危害是，王位有可能被任何年龄阶段的未成年人继承。在幼主即位后，在国王名义下施政的摄政团面临各种机会和诱惑让他们辜负老国王所托。同样，当国王因为年龄和疾病等原因而困顿濒于死亡时，国家会面临另外一种灾难。在这两种情况下，公众都有可能成为邪恶人物的受害者，因为这些人可以成功地利用国王老龄或年幼带来的判断不明而为所欲为。

支持世袭制度的一个最貌似有理的理由是，世袭制度会避免国家陷入内战。如果他说的是真的话，那么这项理由非常重要。然而，这却是人类听到的最赤裸裸的谎言。在整个英国的历史上找不到这样的情况存在。自诺曼征服之后，有30位成年国王和2位未成年国王统治过这个陷于茫然的王国。在这段时间，发生过至少8次内战和19次起义（包括革命）。因此，世袭制度不但不能带来和平，反而破坏和平，并进而破坏和平赖以存在的基础。

约克家族和兰卡斯特家族对王位和继承权的争夺，使英国陷入多年的血腥战斗之中。亨利和爱德华之间发生了12次大规模的战役，以及一些小规模战斗和围攻。亨利被爱德华俘获过两次，而爱德华也曾成为亨利的阶下囚。战争的命运和民心所向不可捉摸，一点个人事务都会引发争斗。亨利因为获胜从阶下囚一跃登上王位，而爱德华则从王宫逃亡国外。然而，就像瞬间的情绪变化不会持久一样，亨利也被赶下了王位，爱德华又被迎回王宫代替他。在此期间，议会总是站在强势的那一边。

这场争斗从亨利六世当政时候开始，一直到亨利七世时代两家联姻后才完全结束，耗时67年（1422-1489）。

总之，君主制和世袭制度（不只限于某个王国）让世界陷于硝烟战火之中。这是上帝表示反对的一种政府体制，因而会有血腥相伴。

如果我们研究一下国王的事务，我们会发现在一些国家国王无事可做。国王不仅于国家无补，而且国王自身的生活也毫无快乐可言。在百无聊赖地度过一生之后，他们退居幕后，让继任者继续这种无聊的生活。在君主专制国家，所有的经济、民事和军事事务由国王处理。犹太人的子民在要求设立一个国王的时候，他们强调的理由是“他可以评判我们，代表我们，并且领导我们去战斗”。但是在有些国家，他既不是法官也不是将军，就像在英国一样。人们会感到疑惑，他究竟做什么。

一个政府越是接近共和制度，留给国王做的事情就越少。为英国政府起一个合适的名字有点困难。威廉·梅雷迪思爵士称它为一个共和国，但是在目前状况下，这名不副实，因为国王的腐败势力控制着所有的位置，实际上已经侵吞了下议院的权利（政体中的共和部分），让它不能发挥作用。这样一来，英国政体中君主的地位已经与法国和西班牙相差不大。人们为名字而争吵，但是却不理解名字的含意。英国人引以为豪的是英国政体中的共和部分，而非君主制部分，即从他们中间自由选举出下议院。不难看出，当共和的作用不能发挥时，奴隶制时代就降临了。为何英国政体疾病缠身？难道不正是因为君主制已经毒害了共和制，国王迷惑了下议院？

在英国，国王要做的事情无外乎发动战争以及安排官职。通俗地说，就是让国家穷困和制造纷争。一个人每年领取八十万镑，而且还备受景仰，这确实是一件不错的差使。一个诚实的人比他们对社会的贡献更大，而且在上帝眼里，这样的人比过去所有加过冕的恶棍都更有价值。

对当前美国事务现状的思考

在下文中，我仅仅向大家提供简单的事实、通俗的讨论以及常识。对于读者，我只希望他能摒弃偏见与成见，依靠理智与情感自己做出决定，坚守而不是背离个人的真正品格，并且将自己的眼界尽量放远一些，此外并无其他要求。

关于英美之间的斗争，已有不少论述。各类人物出于不同的动机纷纷参与其中，并且提供了各式各样的解决方案。然而，这些辩论都徒劳无功，而论辩的时间已经结束。武力，作为最后的手段，将决定这一斗争的结果。这是英国国王做出的选择，而新大陆也接受了这一挑战。

据报道，已故的佩勒姆先生（尽管他是位能干的首相，但也犯了一些错误）曾在下院受到攻击，有人指责他在英美关系问题上采取的措施只是权宜之计。佩氏的回答是：“它们在我任内还不成问题。”如果在今天的斗争中，各殖民地也存在着如此致命和胆怯的想法，那么，我们这些所谓先人的名字将来会遭到子孙后代的唾弃。

这是地球上最值得去做的事情。这件事情不只关系到一个城市，一个国家，一个省，或者一个王国，而是关系到整个大陆——一个占地球可居住面积1/8的大陆。这不只是要一天内关心的事情，也不是只需要一年关心的事情，而是需要一个时代关心的事情。我们的后代事实上也卷入其中，或多或少地会受到现在正在进行的事情的影响，这种影响甚至会永远存在。现在是播种大陆联盟、信心和光荣的种子的时候了。现在最小的裂痕就像用针尖刻在幼年的橡树身上的名字一样，伤口会随着橡树的成长而变大，后代人可以清楚地读出这个名字。

当我们决定放弃争论转而拿起武器来解决这件事情的时候，一个新的政治时代开始了，一种新的思考方式诞生了。4月19日前（也就是对抗开始前）的所有计划和建议，已经变成了历史。也许它们当时比较合适，但是现在已经被替代，没有用处了。以前不管争辩双方对这一问题提出何种相左的意见，但在同一点上意见一致，那就是与英国联合。双方的唯一不同在于实现这一目的的手段，一方主张使用武力，而另外一方主张通过友谊。然而第一种手段已经失败，而第二种手段也已经失去了效力。

关于和解的好处已经说了很多，然而它像个美梦一样已经离我们而去。因此，现在需要考察和解的相反一面，并且了解在同英国联合或者依靠英国的形势下殖民地承受和将要一直承受的许多实际损伤。让我们遵循自然界和常识的原则审视这种关联和依赖，了解在离开英国的情况下我们要依靠什么，以及如果依靠英国我们又能得什么。

我听人说过，美洲的繁荣得益于以前与英国的联系。如果要保持这种繁荣，还需要保持这样的联系，在未来永远都是这样。没有比这更荒谬的论点了。按照这一思路，我们甚至可以说既然小孩子是靠喝牛奶长大的，他就永远不要吃肉了，或者说我们前二十年是怎么过的，后二十年还要怎么过。这种说法也违背事实。我要直言不讳地说，如果与欧洲势力断绝了联系，美洲会同样繁荣，甚至有可能更好。美洲藉以繁荣的贸易属于生活必需的活动，只要欧洲人要吃饭，它就永远有市场。

不过有人说，她保护过我们。她曾经让我们迷恋，这是事实；她曾经花自己的钱和我们的钱保卫过这个大陆，这也是我们认可的。然而，她也会出于同样目的保护土耳其，即为了贸易和统治。

可叹啊，我们已经被过去的偏见左右很久了，而且因为迷信牺牲了很多。我们夸耀大英帝国的保护，但是没有想过，它这样做的动机是出于保护自身利益而非对我们的感情。它没有为了我们的利益去抵御我们的敌人，而是出于自身考虑防御自己的敌人，并且防御那些不会因为任何其他原因与我们有争执、然而却因我们与英国结在一起会永远成为我们的敌人的人。让不列颠放弃对这个大陆的主权要求吧，不然让这个大陆抛弃对不列颠的依赖。这样一来，在法国和西班牙与英国作战的时候，我们依然可以和法国和西班牙保持和平。上次汉诺威王朝的战争造成的苦难，应该提醒我们不要与英国建立联系。

据说近来议会中有人声称，如果不是因为有相同的宗主国，这些殖民地之间就没有任何联系，也就是说宾夕法尼亚和泽西以及其他地方因为英国的缘故成了姐妹殖民地。这是一种拐弯抹角证明关系的说法，但却也是最便捷、也是唯一正确的证明敌对关系（如果我们可以这样称呼它的话）说法。如果我们不是大不列颠的臣民，法国和西班牙过去不会，可能以后永远也不会成为我们美洲人的敌人。

然而一些人说，英国是宗主国。那么她的行为就更可耻。虎毒尚不食子，即使野蛮人也不会向自己的家人发难。因此，这种说法如果成立，这反而成为对英国的谴责。然而，实际上这种说法并不成立，或者只是部分成立。国王和他的寄生虫们狡猾地使用了宗主国或者母国的说法，试图卑鄙地利用人们轻信的弱点施加天主教的影响力。欧洲，而非英国，是美洲的宗主国。这个新世界已经成为欧洲各地受迫害的人权和宗教自由热爱者的避难所。他们逃亡到了这里，不是从母亲的怀抱，而是从恶魔的爪牙下逃到了这里。目前来说有一种对英国的说法是真实的，那就是把首批移民驱离家园的专制政府依然在迫害这些移民的后代。

在地球上这一广袤的地区，我们忘却了那个三百六十英里（英格兰的长度）的狭小地区，把友谊提升到更高层次。我们视每个来自欧洲的基督徒为兄弟，为这种宽广的胸怀而欢欣鼓舞。

人们欣喜地看到，随着对世界认识的增加，这里的人逐渐克服了地方成见。在英国任何一个分成教区的小镇出生的人，很自然地主要与同区教友交往（因为他们的利益常常是一致的），称他们为邻居。如果他在几英里外遇到这样一个人，他会忘却同一条街道的狭隘想法，称他为同乡。如果他走出所在的郡县，在另外的郡县遇到这一个人，他会忘记街道和市镇的狭小地域，称他为同胞，也就是来自同一个郡的人。如果在国外旅途中，在法国或者欧洲的其他地区遇到这样的人，他的地区观念会扩大到英国人。同样道理，所有在美洲或者地球上任何其他地方相聚的欧洲人都是同胞。在相对于整体考虑时，英国、荷兰、德国或者瑞典在更高的层次上处于同样的位置。街道、市镇以及郡等在较低层次上的区分也存在同样情况。这样的区分对于大陆人来说过于狭窄。英国人后裔在本省居民中的比例还不到三分之一。因此，我不同意只把英国视为宗主国或母国的说法，因为它是错误、自私、狭隘和不公平的。

那么如果承认我们都是英国人的后裔，那又有什么意义呢？什么都没有。英国既然成为我们现在公开的敌人，那它就失去了其他任何名分。说什么和解是我们的责任，这真是滑稽。王室且前家庭的第一任国王（征服者威廉）是法国人，而且英国贵族中有半数是法国人的后裔。因此，根据这一推理，英国应该是被法国统治。

关于英国和殖民地联合起来的力量已经谈论了很多，有人称双方联手可以挑战世界。然而，这只是一种假设，因为战争的命运不可捉摸。那些话本身也没有意义，因为这个大陆决不愿意调集所有的居民去支持在亚洲、非洲或者是欧洲的英军。

此外，同世界抗争对我们又有什么意义？我们的目的是商业，而且如果经营得当，商业会为我们赢得与整个欧洲的和平与友谊，因为拥有美洲这样一个自由港符合整个欧洲的利益。她与他国的贸易将永远是一个保护伞，而且缺乏金银矿藏会让她免遭侵略。

我要求那些最热烈支持和解的人说明与英国保持联系可以收获的哪怕一项好处。我重复这项要求，因为照我看来我们得不到任何好处。我们的玉米在欧洲的任何市场都会得到合理价格，而且进口的货物不论来源地是那里，我们都必须要为之付钱。

但是，由于我们同英国联合而承受的损害和弊端却是数不胜数。我们对人类以及对自己的责任要求我们放弃这种联盟，因为任何对大不列颠的臣服或者依赖都可能把这个大陆直接卷入欧洲的战争和争端之中。此外，它还让我们与一些愿意与我们建立友谊的国家交恶，而我们对这些国家既没有愤怒也没有不满。因为欧洲是我们的通商市场，我们不应该只与它的某一部分建立联系。为自身的真正利益考虑，美洲应该避开欧洲的争端，而在依赖英国的情况下，她做不到这一点，而只能是英国政治天秤上的一个小小的砝码。

欧洲由于国家林立，难得有长久的和平。每当英国和其他国家发生战争，美洲的贸易就会经受灾难，原因就在于她和英国的联系。下一次的战争也许不会像上一次一样，但是如果不是这样的话，那些鼓吹和解的人该希望与英国分开了，因为在战争中处于中立比依靠善于作战的人更能保证安全。一切正确的和自然的因素都要求脱离英国。被杀戮者流淌的血和自然界啜泣的声音在呼喊：“现在是脱离英国的时候了。甚至上帝在英国和美洲间安排的距离都是强有力的、天然的证据，表明让其中一个统治另外一个不是上帝的意图。同样，新大陆被发现的时间也进一步证明了这一点，还有人口居住的方式。发现美洲的时间在宗教改革之前，好像是上帝仁慈地打算为未来受迫害的人提供一个避难所，因为那时候他们的故土已经不再有友谊和安全。

大不列颠对这个大陆的统治迟早都要结束。一个认真思考的人如果朝前看，是不会感到快乐的，因为他痛苦而又确切地知道，他所称的“目前的政体”不过是临时性的。作为父母，我们也不会有快乐，因为我们知道目前的政权不会延续很长时间，不能保障我们可能传给后代任何东西。用一种简单的论证方法来说，在我们即将令下一代背负债务的时候，我们应该做一些工作，否则我们对待他们的方式就太卑鄙可耻了。要正确了解我们的责任范围，我们应该对我们的孩子负责，把我们所负的职责往后推进几年。站在这样的高度，我们会看到被目前的一些恐惧和偏见所遮蔽的形势。

尽管我小心翼翼地避免冒犯别人，但是我倾向于认为，所有支持和解观点的人可以分为以下几类:与此利益相关的人，他们是不能够被信任的；看不清楚事情本质的软弱的人；因为有偏见而不愿意看到事情本质的人；某些把欧洲世界想象得过于美妙的普通人；最后一批人受错误的判断影响，他们给这个大陆带来的灾祸比其他三部分人都要多。

很多人有幸能够生活在远离苦难的地方，他们在自己的家门口没有目睹很多的罪恶，因此感受不到整个美洲面临的危险。但是让我们的想象力暂时把我们带到波士顿，那个苦难的发源地会让我们变得聪明，教导我们永远放弃这个我们不能相信的政权。那个不幸城市的居民几个月前还生活在安逸和富足之中，现在却只能留下来挨饿，或者是外出乞讨。如果他们继续留在这个城市里，他们要面临朋友们的炮火；如果他们离开这个城市，他们有可能遭遇士兵的掠夺。在他们目前的状况下，他们是没有救赎希望的囚犯，在有人发起攻击拯救他们时，他们会面临两支军队的枪林弹雨。

一些被动性格的人对英国人的冒犯似乎不以为然，依然在期待最好的结果。他们会发出这样的呼吁：“来吧，等这一切过去之后我们还可以做朋友。”但是让我们来审视一下人类的情感，用人类的天性检测一下和解的理论，然后告诉我，在一个政权将战火带到你的土地上之后，你是否还能够爱她，尊重她，并且忠实地为她服务？如果你不能，那么你就是在欺骗自己，而且你的犹豫不决会给后人带来毁灭。未来的英国，只是一个你既不能爱又不能尊重的国家，与她的关系会变得勉强和不自然，而且维持这种关系只能是权宜之计。不久之后这种关系会倒退，结局会比上一次更悲惨。然而如果你说，你仍然可以不计较这些冒犯，那么我来问你，你的房屋是否被烧毁过？他们是否当着你的面毁灭了你的财产？你的妻子和孩子是否失去了赖以休息的床铺和赖以生存的面包？你的家中是否有一位长辈或孩子遭到了他们的毒手，而你成了一个遭受严重打击的悲惨的幸存者？如果你不曾经受这一切，那么你就不可以评判这些人的遭遇。如果你经历过这些，还能够与刽子手握手言欢的话，那么你就不配拥有丈夫、父亲、朋友、以及爱人的身份，不论你在生活中的阶层或者称号是什么，你都有一颗懦夫的心，以及一个谄媚者的灵魂。

这不是在煽动或者夸大某些事情，而是在拷问自然赋予他们的情感。如果没有这些情感，我们就不能够称职地履行社会责任，或者享受社会责任带来的快乐。我并不打算通过展示这些恐怖的事情来呼唤复仇，但是希望它把我们从致命的、怯懦的沉睡中唤醒，这样我们就可以坚定地追寻某个明确的目标。只要美洲不让迟疑和怯懦吞噬自己，英国或者欧洲就都没有能力征服美洲。如果策略得当，今年这个冬季的价值相当于一个时代。如果失去或者忽略了这个机会，整个大陆都会陷入不幸;如果有人导致了这么一个宝贵的、重要的季节丧失，他就将成为一个千古罪人。

认为这个大陆还可以更长久地臣服于某个外来势力的想法是与理性相悖的，也是与普遍的原则以及历史上的各种先例相悖的，即使是英国中最乐观的人也不会这样想。即使把人类的智慧发挥到极致，除独立外，目前也不会有任何方案能够保证这个大陆得享哪怕一年的安全。和解已经成为，而且在过去也不过是一个虚幻的梦想。造化已经抛弃了这种联系，而人力无法弥补。正像米尔顿所说：“憎恨造成的创伤已经如此之深，再不会有真正的和解。”

每一种悄悄争取和平的做法已经失去效果。我们的祈祷遭到了蔑视。这只会让我们相信，没有任何东西比不断的请愿更能满足虚荣，或者证明国王顽固不化的事情了，而且那种做法最能助长欧洲国王们的专制。看一下丹麦和瑞典的情况吧。因此，既然只有斗争才能取得效果，让我们务必来推动最终的分离吧，不要让我们的后代因为已被侵犯的毫无意义的父子名分而毙命。

说他们以后永远不会再尝试这样做，这只是徒劳的幻想。我们在废除印花税法案时候这样想过，然而一两年后我们就清醒了。我们同样可以这样假设，曾经被打败的国家，永远不会再重新挑起事端。

至于管理事务，英国统治没有能够给这个大陆带来公正。这项事务不久会变得非常沉重、复杂，一个距离我们如此遥远而且对我们不了解的国家不可能轻易地完成这项任务。如果他们不能征服我们，他们就不能统治我们。如果一件事情和一项请愿需要跨跃3,000到4,000英里的距离，等上四到五个月才有答复，而且收到答复后还需要五到六个月的时间才能解释清楚，这样的安排在几年后就会被认为十分愚蠢和幼稚。在某个时间这样的安排曾比较合适，然而它也有寿终正寝的一天。

那些无法保卫自己的小岛适合成为王国统治的对象，而认为一个大陆需要在一个岛国永久统治之下的想法是荒唐的。自然界还从没有让一颗卫星大过它的行星，而英国和美洲的关系则颠倒了自然界的这一规则。显然，他们属于不同的体系：英国归欧洲，美洲独立存在。

我对脱离英国获得独立主张的拥护并非出于骄傲、党派思想或者憎恨。我清楚、明确并且认真地认为，这样做符合这个大陆的真实利益。其他的方案不过是做修补工作，不能够带来永久的幸福，那意味着把战争留给我们的孩子，并且在一个再付出多一点努力就可以为这个大陆争取到荣耀的时候退缩了。

鉴于英国还没有表示出任何妥协的倾向，我们可以肯定不会有值得这个大陆接受的条件，或者有任何方式足以弥补我们抛洒的鲜血和投入的财力。

我们争取的结果应该能够与我们的投入相称。撤掉诺斯或解散整个可恶的私党抵不上我们的巨大付出。仅短暂停止贸易所造成的不便就足以与废除招致怨声载道的法案相对应（如果这些法案真的被废除了的话）。然而如果整个大陆的居民都必须拿起武器，如果每一个男人都要成为士兵，单是与一个卑鄙的政府部门斗争就不值得了。太昂贵了，太昂贵了，我们为废除这些法案付出的太多了，如果这是我们斗争的全部目标的话。如果要做一个公正的评估，为了法律也像为了土地一样付出班克山的代价是天大的傻事。我一直认为美洲大陆的独立是迟早的事，从近期大陆迅速走向成熟的情形看，它的到来不会太远了。因此，在对抗开始后，再为一件事情争辩出个青红皂白已经不重要了，时间会最终解决这个问题，除非我们执意要这么做。否则，这就像在一件诉讼中浪费一处地产以约束房客的违法行为一样，而房客的租期马上就要到了。在1775年4月19日【1】之前，没有人像我一样更热切期盼和解，但是在我获知当天所发生事件的那一瞬间，我永远放弃了那个铁石心肠、永远态度阴沉的“英国法老王”。我鄙视那个卑鄙的人，那个假冒人民的父亲听到人民被屠杀竟然无动于衷、灵魂上沾染了人民的鲜血竟然还能够坦然入睡的人。

但是如果承认事情已经得到和解，又会出现什么情况呢？我的回答是，这个大陆遭到毁灭。原因有几个。

首先，统治权依然在国王手里，他可以否定美洲大陆的所有立法。他的所作所为已经证明，他是追求自由人士的死敌，并且如此喜欢拥有任意妄为的权力。难道他不是一个会对这些殖民地说“你们不能制订法律，除非我允许”这样话的人吗？难道美洲大陆上还有人如此无知，以至于不了解根据目前所谓的宪法，美洲大陆除非得到国王允许，否则不能制订法律吗？难道还有人这么愚笨，（根据过去发生的事情看）以至于看不出来国王决不会容忍美洲制订任何法律，除非那是适合他心愿的法律吗？不论是由于缺少立法权，或者是由于必须遵守英国为我们制订的法律，我们都是处于事实上的被奴役状态。在达成和解后（有人这样称呼），难道没有人担心英国国王会尽可能地迫使大陆一直处于卑微和屈辱状态吗？我们没有往前走，而是向后退了，或者是陷入了无休止的争论或可笑的请愿中。我们已经成长壮大到国王不能接受的程度，难道他不会从此以后设法削弱我们的力量吗？单就一点来说，一个嫉妒我们的繁荣的政权适合来统治我们吗？任何回答“不”的人都是一个支持独立的人，因为判断是否独立的标准不过就是我们是否可以自己制定法律，或者美洲大陆最大的敌人——国王是否曾经，或者能够，以及将来会告诉我们“不能够制订我不喜欢的法律”。

然而你会说，国王在英国同样拥有否决权，如果不经过他的同意，那里的人也不能够制定法律。从是非的观点来看，这样的制度非常荒唐。一个只有21岁的年轻人（这样的情况经常发生）竟然被允许对几百万比他年长、比他聪明的人说：我禁止你们提出的这项或者哪项法案成为法律。在这里我拒绝接受这样的回答。虽然我永远不会停止揭露这种制度的荒谬性，但在这里我只想说，英国是国王的居住国，而美洲不是，两者的情形不同。相对于在英国，国王否决权在美洲的危险性和危害程度要高出十倍。因为在英国，国王轻易不会否决旨在增强英国防务力量的法案，而在美国，他永远不会允许这样的法案获得通过。

在英国的政治体系里，美洲只是次要考虑的因素。英国只在涉及自身利益的时候才会考虑美洲的利益。因此，她的自身利益驱使她压制我们的成长，如果这种成长不能促进它的利益，或者与她没有什么关系的话。考虑到以前发生的事情，我们在这种二手政府的统治下很快就会陷入一种很糟糕的境地！人不会单凭名称的改变就从敌人变为朋友。为了说明现在达成和解是一种危险的主场，我断言，目前国王正在考虑废除那些法案，以恢复自己对这些海外领地的统治权，并且在今后很长一段时间里会通过耍手腕和计谋实现他不能够通过武力和暴力在短期内实现的目的。和解和毁灭是紧密联系在一起的。

其次，我们能够期望达到的最好的结果也只不过是一种权宜之计，或者是一种处于监管下的政府。在殖民地发展成熟后，她的存在就成了问题。在这样的临时性安排下，整体局面和情况在短期内都处于未定状态，而且前景也不乐观。有财产的移民家庭不会选择去一个政府形式悬于一线的国家，一个每天处在动荡边缘的国家。而现有的居民也会利用这段间隙，处理掉他们的财产，离开这个大陆。

最有力的论点是，只有独立，也就是建立一种大陆形式的政府，才能保障这个大陆的和平并确保她免受内战的影响。我现在惧怕与英国达成和解，因为几乎可以肯定的是，在这之后某些地方会发生反抗。如果出现这种局面。其后果比英国人所有的恶意加起来都要严重。

英国人的野蛮已经破坏了数千人的生活（还有数千人可能会遭受同样的命运）。相对于我们这些没有受到影响的人，那些人的感情是复杂的。他们现在只剩下了自由，此前所拥有的一切都献给了为自由而战这一事业。因为已经没有什么东西可以失去，他们鄙视向英国臣服。此外，殖民地对待英国政府的态度就像一个即将结束青春期的年轻人一样，他们不会再在乎她。一个不能保持和平的政府根本算不上是政府，我们向她付钱，却得不到任何东西。那么英国能够做点什么呢？如果达成和解的第二天就发生内乱，英国的权力就只是停留在纸面上了。我听到有人说（我相信很多人说话之前没有经过思考）他们害怕独立，担心它会引发内战。我们未经过深思的想法很少是正确的，在这种情况下也是如此。与英国勉强维持关系要比独立可怕十倍。站在那些受害者的立场上，我不同意和解。如果我被赶出了自己的房屋和家园，财产被破坏，生存环境被摧毁，作为一个能够感受到伤害的人，我永远不会赞成和解，要么只能是被主张和解的人裹挟了。

美洲大陆的殖民地对大陆政府展现了良好的秩序和服从精神，足以让任何一个通情达理的人感到舒心和愉悦。除非是出于幼稚可笑的原因，没有人会担心殖民地之间会争夺领导权。

因为不存在差别，所以也就不存在谁领导谁的问题。因为完全平等，所以不会有任何诱惑。欧洲的共和国都能够（我们甚至可以说一直是）和平相处。荷兰和瑞士没有发生过任何战争，不论是外部战争还是内部战争。君主制政府的真实情况是，她永远不能长久地息事宁人。王位本身就是国内怀有野心的人争夺的对象，而王室本身的傲慢在不断膨胀的过程中，会导致与国外列强发生冲突。在同样的情形下，一个建立在更加符合自然原则基础上的共和制政府会通过谈判解决问题。

如果对于独立有任何真正的担心，这是因为还没有制定相应的计划，人们看不到前面的出路。因此，作为这项事业的开端，我提出以下建议。同时，我还要很谦虚地说明，我提出的这些建议旨在抛砖引玉。如果个人凌乱的想法能够被汇集起来，它们常常可以为聪明、能干的人制定有用的计划提供参考。

让我们每年举行一次会议，每次选举一个主席。让代表权更为平等。让我们纯粹讨论内部事务，而且服从大陆会议的权威。

让我们把每个殖民地分成六个、八个或者十个大小合适的区域，每个区域向大陆会议送派数量合适的代表，这样每个殖民地至少选送30名代表。整个大陆会议的代表人数至少有390人。每次大陆会议的召开和主席的选举依照以下办法进行。代表们都到场后以抽签的办式从13个殖民地中选取一个殖民地，然后整个大陆会议的代表从那个殖民地的代表中间选出1名会议主席（通过不记名投票的办式）。在下一届大陆会议上，通过抽签的办法从12个殖民地中选出一个殖民地，在上一届大陆会议中当选大会主席的那个殖民地不再参与选举。以此类推，直到所有13个殖民地都得到了自己的机会。为了避免把尚未成熟的做法上升为法律，超过大陆会议代表人数的3/5才算作多数。在这样一个权力分配如此均衡的政权下，如果有人要制造不和，等于是让自己与撒旦为伍。

但是，这件事情最初必须由谁做起，或者如何进行都是需要费思量的事情，而且看起来似乎由某种介于被统治者和统治者之间，也就是大陆会议和民众之间的团体来执行是最和谐一致的，那就让大陆会议按照以下方式并遵循下列宗旨召开吧。

大陆会议推出一个由26人组成的委员会，每一个殖民地选出二人。每个州议会下院或州的制宪会议产生二名委员；每州从全体人民中选举出五人代表全州并对全州负责，这些代表由州内各地尽可能多的有资格的选民在各州首府或市镇选出；或者，如果更方便，代表也可在其中两三处人口最多的地区产生。以这种方式召集的会议，在处理事务中将结合两大原则，即知识和权力。大陆会议、各州议会下院或制宪会议的成员们，在积累了处理国家事务的经验后，将成为干练而重要的议员，而整个会议既经人民授权，就具备了真正的法律的权威。

参加会议的议员们的任务是制订《大陆宪章》和《联合殖民地宪章》（与所谓的英国《大宪章》相对应），确定大陆会议、州议会下院议员的人员数量和选举方式以及召开会议的日期，并且确定它们的职责和管辖范围（要永远记住，我们的力量在于整个大陆的团结一致，而不是各自为战）。保障所有人的自由和财产；最为重要的是，保障根据个人意愿选择宗教信仰的自由，以及有必要在宪章中规定的其他事项。此后，解散上述会议，并依据上述宪章选举这个大陆的临时立法人员和地方长官：愿上帝保佑他们平安幸福。阿门。

如果此后有人被委任从事这项或者其他类似的事业，我想把智慧的政治学家德拉戈内蒂的一段话送给他们。“政治活动的要义在于，发现幸福和自由的源泉。那些能够找到让国家付出最小的代价、为个人提供最大幸福的政府形式的人，值得人们永世爱戴。”——德拉戈内蒂《论德行与回报》

但有人会说，美洲大陆的国王在哪里？我要告诉你，我的朋友，他统治着我们，但不会像英国国王那样给人类带来灾难。为了显示我们并不缺少尘世的荣耀，让我们选择一个庄重的日子来公布我们的宪章；把上帝的旨意融入我们神圣的法律之中；把王冠赋予我们的法律，这样世界就可以知道，我们也同意君主制度，但是在美洲大陆法律就是国王。在专制政府中，国王就是法律。在自由的国家里，应该成为国王的是法律，而不是其他的东西。为了避免以后有人滥用法律，让我们在宣布仪式之后把王冠打碎，把它分散到拥有这项权利的人民大众之中。

拥有一个我们自己的政府是我们与生俱来的权利。当认真思考人类事务面临的危险时，人们会明白：在我们有能力时，以冷静和慎重的方式建立一个我们自己的政权体制是更为明智和安全的，而不是在这一件重要的事情上面等待时间和命运的恩赐。如果我们今天不这样做，以后就会有像马萨涅洛【2】那样的人揭竿而起，利用公众普遍的不满，召集一些亡命之徒和对现状不满的人，自立政府，然后像洪水一样把各种自由权利从美洲大陆赶出去。如果统治美洲的权利再次回到英国人的手中，岌岌可危的形势也会吸引绝望的冒险家铤而走险。如果发生这种情况，英国人能提供什么帮助？在她得知消息之前，那种可怕的事情可能已经发生了。我们遭受的痛苦会如同可怜的布立吞人在征服者压迫下经受的痛苦一样。现在那些反对独立的人，你们并不知道自己是在做什么；你们让政府的位置空着，从而向永久的专制打开大门。已有成千上万的人认识到，把那个野蛮和恐怖的势力赶出美洲大陆是一件光荣的事情，这个政权已经鼓动印第安人和黑人来毁灭我们。需要对这一残暴行为承担罪责的有他们，还有我们自己。

与理性禁止我们信任、情感让我们憎恨的人谈论友谊无疑是疯狂和愚蠢之举。我们和他们之间尚存的友谊在与日俱减，那么是否有理由希望，在这种关系结束后，相互的关爱会增加一些，或者当我们为更多或者重要十倍的事情争论的时候，我们反而更能够达成一致？

那些向我们谈论和谐与和解的人，你能够补偿我们失去的时间吗？你能够让妓女找回昔日的纯真么？如果你不能，那么你也不能够调解英国和美洲大陆的关系。最后一丝联系已经断开，英国人正在发表反对我们的演讲。有些伤害是天理无法原谅的，如果有人能够，那么她就失去了自己的本性。如果一个人不能够原谅强暴自己情人的人，那么美洲大陆也不能够原谅英国的杀人犯。上帝在我们心中植入了这些不能够消除的情感，目的就是为了让我们保持善良和智慧。它是我们心中上帝形象的守护神。它让我们有别于普通的动物。如果我们对情感无动于衷，那么社会契约将解体，正义将从地球上消失，或者仅仅是形同虚设。如果我们受到的伤害不能促使我们寻求正义，那么强盗和杀人犯将能够经常逃脱惩罚。

啊，你们那些热爱人类的人们！那些敢于反抗专制和暴君的人，请站出来吧！旧世界的每个角落都充斥着压迫。在整个地球上，自由被追捕。亚洲和非洲已经把她驱赶开，欧洲视她为陌生人，而英国已经警告让她离开。啊，接纳这个流亡者吧，并且及时为人类准备一个自由的庇护所。

关于当前美洲大陆的能力，以及一些其他的想法

我遇到的每一个人，不论是在英国还是在美洲，都向我表达过同样的想法，那就是英国和美洲大陆的分裂是迟早要发生的事情。在我们试图描述让美洲大陆独立的成熟时机的时候，我们并没有表现出足够明智的判断。

既然所有人都认可这个方案，而只是在时间方面有不同的意见，那么为了避免犯错，让我们对当前的事物进行一个综合的考察，并且如果可能的话，找出合适的时间。这不是一件需要特别费力的事情，调查很快就可以结束，因为这个时间已经到来。目前的总体形势，以及所有必要条件的到来都证明了这一点。

我们最大的优势在于我们团结一致，而非我们的数量，而且我们现在的数量足于对抗整个世界。美洲大陆目前拥有世界上数量最庞大的、训练有素的武装部队；而且美洲目前处于这样一个阶段，那就是单个殖民地不能独立存在，但是当他们联合起来的时候，他们可以所向无敌，而且对敌人的打击几乎是致命的。我们现在已经有足够的陆军，在海军方面，我们不能不清醒地认识到，那就是在她的统治下，英国不允许美洲大陆拥有自己的军队。因此，在那一方面，我们再过一百年，情形也是和现在一样的。但是问题在于，情况会更糟，因为这个国家的木材每天都在减少，而且最终剩下来的位置都比较偏远而且难以采伐。

如果美洲大陆上挤满了居民，那么她在目前状况下遭受的痛苦会更加难以忍受。我们拥有的海港城镇越多，我们需要保卫和可能失去的就会越多。目前的数字正适合我们的需求，没有人会无事可做。由于贸易的减少，有更多的人可以加入军队，而军队的需求又会促进新贸易活动的产生。

我们没有任何债务。我们在这方面欠下的任何债务都将是我们德行的光辉纪念。如果我们能给后代人留下一个形式确定的政府，一个我们自己的独立的政体，那么付出任何代价都是值得的。但如果只是为了废除一些恶毒的法案，以及战胜一个政府的部门，就花费数百万英镑，这样的花费是不值得的，对我们的后代也太残忍了，因为我们把大量的工作留给他们去做，并且给他们留下了很多的债务，而这些债务不能给他们带来任何好处。任何正直的人都不会有如此打算的，只有心胸狭隘的人和无所事事的政客才会有此想法。

如果我们的事业得以完成，那么我们可能要承担的债务是不值一提的。没有国家不应该有债务。国债是一个国家的债务，而且如果债务没有利息，这绝不是一件令人痛苦的事情。英国有超过140,000,000英磅的债务，每年支付的利息超过4,000,000英磅。正是由于有这样高的债款的支持，她能够拥有一支庞大的海军。美洲大陆没有债务，但是也没有海军。然而如果我们的债务达到英国的1/20，那么我们会拥有力量两倍于他们的海军。英国海军的价值目前不会超过3,500,000英磅。

本书第一版和第二版出版时没有包含以下的计算，这一版本中则将其包含在内，以证明上述对海军建设费用的估算是正确的。参看恩蒂克所著的《海军史》，绪论，第56页。

根据海军大臣波彻特先生的计算，建造各种等级舰船的造价，连同桅杆、帆桁、帆和索具等装备的费用，以及相当于水手和船匠八个月口粮的费用为：

由此，我们很容易算出整个英国海军的价值或成本，因为它在1757年达到鼎盛时拥有下列数量的舰船和火炮：

世界上没有哪个国家像美洲大陆一样地处如此优越的位置，具有如此良好的养护军舰的内部条件。柏油、木材、铁和绳索都是它的天然资源。我们不需要赴国外采购任何东西。通过向西班牙人和葡萄牙人出租军舰而获利的荷兰人，需要进口他们使用的大部分原料。我们应该把建造军舰当作一个商业项目，因为在这方面我们具有天然的优势。这是我们最有价值的投资。当海军建成后，它的价值会高于它的成本。这是国家政策的一个妙处所在，它把商业和国防结合在了一起。让我们来建造一支海军吧，如果我们不需要，还可以把它卖掉，这样我们就可以用现成的金银来替换我们的纸币。

关于舰队的人员配备问题，人们通常会陷入误区；我们不必要让四分之一的人当海员。那艘“攻坚号”武装民船以及“死神船长号”在上一次战争中经历了最激烈的战斗，但是船上的船员不到二十人，虽然编制人数在二百以上。几个干练的、善于交流的海员很快就可以教会许多陆上生活的人从事船上的普通工作。因此，在我们拥有充足的木材供应、渔场遭到封锁、海员和造船工人正陷于失业时开创海上事业可以说是千载难逢的良机。四十年前，我们曾在新英格兰建造过几艘装有七、八十尊火炮的战舰，为什么现在不再这样做呢？造船业是美洲最值得自豪的事业，在这一方面，她迟早会超越世界各国。东方的大帝国大多地处内陆，因此不可能挑战美洲的地位。非洲现在还处于蛮荒状态，而欧洲没有哪个国家拥有这样长的海岸线，以及这样丰富的国内原料供应。自然界在赐予某地一项好处的同时，往往会保留另外一项好处；然而她对美洲却很慷慨，让她占尽了两项优势。幅员辽阔的俄罗斯帝国几乎没有出海口，因此它广袤的森林，它的柏油、铁和绳索只能作为商品出售。

从安全方面考虑，难道我们不需要有一只舰队吗？我们不再是六十年前的贫民了；那时我们也许可以把财产随意放在街头，或者是田野，夜不闭户也能睡得很安稳。现在情况不同了，我们自卫的手段应该随着我们财产的增加而增强。十二个月前，一个普通的海盗很可能顺着特拉华短时间内到达费城，向当地居民任意勒索财物；其他地方也会有相同遭遇。不仅如此，一个大胆的家伙率领一艘装有十四或十六门火炮的双桅船，也许就能够洗劫整个大陆，抢走五十万镑。这些是值得我们注意的情况，它们告诉我们建立海防的必要性。

有些人也许会说，我们同英国讲和以后，她会保护我们的。难道我们会这样愚蠢，以至于认为她会为了保护我们而在我们的海港驻扎一支海军吗？常识告诉我们，一个试图征服我们的国家是所有国家中最不适合保卫我们的。征服可以假借友谊的名义进行；而在长期的英勇抵抗之后，我们可能最终会被欺骗，成为奴隶。而如果我们不允许她的军舰开进来，我想问，她又将如何来保护我们呢？一个远在三、四千英里之外的海军是不会有多大用处的，而且在紧急关头根本毫无用处。因此，如果我们以后必须自己保护自己，那为什么不为自己做些事情呢？为什么要把它交给别人呢？

英国军舰的数量多得吓人，但是其中只有不到十分之一适合作战，还有很多是不存在的。但这些战舰哪怕只有一块甲板存在就还会保留在名单上。在适合作战的战舰中，只有其中不到五分之一的可以在某个时候离开海港。东方、西印度群岛、地中海、非洲和英国统治的其他地区对海军的需求量很大。出于偏见和疏忽，我们对英国海军形成了一种错误的观念，认为我们自己会同时与整个英国海军作战；出于这种原因，我们认为自己必须拥有一支同样强大的海军。在这种想法不能立即实现的情况下，一些伪装的亲英分子趁机劝阻我们不要开展这项事业。没有什么比这更违背事实了。假设美洲拥有英国海军力量的二十分之一，那么她便足以战而胜之，因为我们没有，也没有宣称拥有任何海外领土，因此我们所有的武装力量都驻扎在自己的海岸线。长远来看，相对于跋涉三四千英里的距离来发动进攻、还需要航行同样的距离去获得人员和物质补给的敌人，我们在自己的海岸线上拥有二比一的优势。虽然英国可以利用它的舰队控制我们与欧洲的贸易，我们拥有同样强大的舰队来控制她与西印度群岛的贸易。西印度群岛临近美洲大陆，而且完全在美洲大陆的控制之下。

如果认为维持一支常备海军没有必要的话，我们可以找到一种方法在和平时代维持一支海军力量。假设我们向商人发放一些津贴，让他们建造并且使用50或60艘装有20门、30门、40门，或50门大炮的舰船（津贴额度此类舰船），加上一些常规执勤的警戒船，就可以维持一只像样的海军了。采用这种做法，我们避免了在和平时期让舰队停在港湾逐渐腐烂的弊端，在英国，人们对此诟病很多。将商业和防卫力量结合起来是一个很好的政策。当我们将商业和防御力量结合起来的时候，我们不再惧怕外来的敌人。

几乎任何一件防卫用物品在我们这里数量都很多。这里的大麻长得很茂盛，这样我们就不缺少绳索了。在这里生产的铁的质量比其他国家的都要好。我们的轻型武器可以和世界上任何地方的媲美。我们可以轻松地制造大炮。我们每天都在生产硝石和火药。我们掌握的知识每个小时都在增加。果敢是我们天生的品质，勇气永远与我们相伴。那么，我们现在还缺少什么？是什么让我们犹豫？除了毁灭，我们不能指望从英国人那里得到任何东西。如果她再次被允许统治美洲大陆，那么这个大陆就不再适合生存。猜忌会不断涌现，暴乱会经常发生，有谁会挺身而出平息这一切呢？谁会冒着生命危险让自己的同胞向外国势力屈服呢？宾夕法尼亚和康涅狄格之间关于一些未开垦地区疆界的争执表明英国政权是无足轻重的，并且这件事充分证明只有美洲大陆自己的政权才能管理好美洲大陆的事务。

目前的时间最为合适的另外一个理由是，我们的人数越少，那么未被占领的土地就越多。我们不但可以用这些土地来偿还当前的债务，而且还可以向政府提供源源不断的支持。世界上没有哪个国家拥有这样的优势。我们不要让国王把这些资源随意赐予他那些无用的寄生虫。

目前这个由殖民地组成的新生国家（有人这么称呼她）还没有遭到什么反对，这是一项有利于独立的理由。我们目前的人口数量合适，如果数量更多的话，我们可能就不会像现在这样的团结了。有一种情况值得注意，那就是一个国家人口越多，它的军队人数就越少。在军事人数上，古代人要远远超过现代人。理由很明显，因为人口增长带动了贸易，人们过多专注于贸易，无暇顾及其他事务。商业减弱了人们的精神，在爱国热情和军事防务方面都是如此。历史充分地告诉我们，一个国家最英勇的成就往往发生在她的青年时期。随着商业活动的增加，英国已经丧失了她的精神。伦敦这个城市虽然人口数量庞大，但却像懦夫一样对各种污辱逆来顺受。人们可失去的东西越多，就越不愿意冒险。富人经常成为恐惧的奴隶，像一条小狗一样装出一副战战兢兢的模样屈从于宫廷的势力。

对国家和个人来说，青年时期是培养良好习惯的黄金时机，如果要花费以后的半个世纪的时间在这个大陆建立一个统一的政府，即便不无可能，实施起来也会比较困难。随着贸易和人口的增加，利益分化日益加剧，混乱也将随之产生。殖民地之间会有冲突。由于羽翼已经丰满，各殖民地会蔑视彼此之间的帮助。那些骄傲但是愚蠢的人会为一点点成就而沾沾自喜，而有识之士则会懊悔没有及早组建联盟。因此，目前是组建联盟的最恰当时机。在幼年时期形成的亲密无间的关系，在共患难中形成的友谊，是最长久、最不容易改变的关系。我们现在的联合就具有这两种特点：我们都很年轻，但是都经历过苦难。我们团结一致，共同经历了困难的考验，并且开创了一个难忘的、值得后人骄傲的时代。

目前这个时期还是一个特殊的时期，这样的时期每个国家只能遇到一次，即组建自己政府的时期。大多数国家错过了这个机会，因此只能被迫接受征服者制定的法律，而不是自己制定法律。他们首先有了一个国王，然后才有了某种形式的政府；然而，应该先有宪章，然后再选出人来执行这些宪章，组建政府。让我们从其他国家的错误中吸取教训，抓住目前的机会，按照正确的顺序组建政府。

威廉一世征服英国后，他用刀剑逼迫他们接受自己的法律。除非我们同意在美洲组建一个合法的、有权威的政府，否则我们也将面临被某个幸运的恶棍威逼着接受他指定的政府的危险。他可能会以同样的方式对待我们，到那时我们的自由何在？我们的财产何在？

在宗教方面，我认为保护所有真诚地宣布自己宗教信仰的人是政府不可推卸的责任。我不知道政府在这方面还可以做其他什么事情。让我们抛弃狭隘的思想，自私的原则（只有吝啬鬼才死抱着这些不愿意放弃），人们立刻就会摆脱在这一方面的各种恐惧。猜疑与心胸狭隘相伴，它会毒害所有幸福的社会。我个人完全真诚地相信，人类信仰不同的宗教是上帝的意图，它让我们拥有更广阔的展现基督教善意的天地。如果我们的思考方式都相同，那么我们的宗教倾向就缺少检验的依据。根据这个开放的原则，我认为人们信仰的各种宗教就像同一个家庭中的众多孩子一样，只是所称的教名不同罢了。

在第五十四页【3】，我就如何制定好《大陆宪章》谈了一些零散的想法（因为我只想提些建议，而不是方案）。在这里，我想再次谈论一下这个话题，我想大陆宪章应该被视为一种约束我们的神圣义务，这是所有殖民地都要承担的义务。每个殖民地的权利都应得到支持，不论是在宗教、个人自由，或是财产方面。要经过激烈的讨价还价作出正确的决策，这样朋友的关系才能长远。

前面我还提到过建立广泛和平等的代表制度的必要性，没有什么政治事务比这更值得我们注意了。选民人数少和代表人数少是同样危险的，而如果不仅代表人数少，而且分布不平均，那么危险级别就更高了。为了证明这一说法，我想列举下面一个例子：当支持大陆联合的人们将请愿书提交宾夕法尼亚议会时，到会的只有二十八位议员；勃克斯县的全部八名议员一致投票反对，而切斯特县的七名议员也投了反对票，这就相当于整个这一地区就被两个县控制了，而这样的危险始终存在。在那次会议上，议会还违规延长会议时间，以不当的方式得到代表们的同意。这样的做法应让人们重新考虑委托权力的方式。有人给代表们制定了参政规则，但不论是从合理性还是操作性来看，这些规则连小学生的水平都达不到。而它们获得少数人的同意后（即很少一部分人在议会外讨论后），就被提交给议会，以整个殖民地的名义获得通过。如果全体人民得知议会在制定一些必要的公共措施时怀有的恶意，他们会毫不犹豫地认为这些议员不值得信任。

在紧急情况下会形成很多权宜之计，如果继续存在下去就会变成压迫。权宜之计不等同于正确的做法。在美洲大陆面临灾难需要商议重大事情时，没有比从几个议会委派一些人来做这件事更直接、更合适，而且他们利用自己的智慧成功地让这个大陆免遭灭顶之灾。如果没有大陆会议，我们很有可能永远无法逃脱噩运，因此每一个期望良好秩序的人都必须认真考虑为这个机构选择人员的方式。我向人类研究专家提出一个问题，同一个机构集代表权和选举权于一身，它拥有的权力是不是太大了？我们在为后代制订计划时应该记得，美德是不能遗传的。

我们经常从敌人那里了解到至理名言，而且他们的错误常常让我们觉醒。康沃尔先生（财政委员之一）以轻蔑的态度对待纽约议会的请愿书，他说那个议会只有二十六位议员，这个人数太少，没有充分的代表性。我们感谢他的非自愿的诚实。【4】

总之，尽管看起来很奇怪，或者很多人不愿意这样考虑，这些都不重要。我可以给出许多强有力的、鲜明的理由来说明，没有比公开、明确地宣布独立这一方法更能顺利地解决当前的困境了。这些理由是：

第一，在两个国家交战时，其他没有陷入争端的国家习惯上会作为调停人介入，启动和谈。在美洲称自己为大不列颠臣民的情况下，没有国家（即使她具备合适的条件）能够提供调解。因此，在目前状况下，我们会永远争吵下去。

第二，如果我们寻求帮助的目的只是为了修补裂痕，并加强英国与与美洲的联系的话，我们就没有理由认为法国或西班牙会给我们任何帮助，因为她们这样做只会对自己不利。

第三，在我们声称自己是英国臣民的情况下，我们一定是被外国视为反叛者。臣民拿起武器反抗统治者，这样的事情在外国人看来会对她们的和平构成威胁。我们可以立即解释这个看似矛盾的问题。不过，要把臣服与抵抗放在一起解释，这样的想法太过于复杂，一般人难以理解。

第四，如果我们发表一项声明，并且递交给外国宫廷，陈述我们遭受的苦难，以及我们尝试过但没有奏效的和平方法；并同时宣布，由于我们在残暴的英国宫廷下已经不能够幸福和安全地生活，我们已经被迫要与她断绝各种形式的联系；同时向外国宫廷保证我们对他们的和平态度，以及我们与他们开展贸易的愿望：这样的外交备忘录对美洲大陆的好处胜过用船装满向英国的请愿书。

目前，作为英国的臣民，其他国家既不愿接纳我们，也不愿倾听我们的声音。所有宫廷的惯例都对我们不利，而且会一直如此，除非我们通过独立获得与其他国家同等的地位。

这些程序起初可能会显得陌生和困难重重，就像我们以前经历过的一些阶段一样，但它们不久就会变得亲切和令人愉悦。此外，除非宣布独立，否则美洲大陆就像一个把不快的事情一直向后拖延的人，明明知道这件事情必须要做，但是不愿着手去做，希望事情已经过去，但是一直被必须要做这件事情的念头纠缠着。

附　言

自从这本小册子的第一版出版之后，或者应该说在它出版的那一天，这个城市就得悉了国王的讲话内容。如果说这本书的出版是由于先见之明，那么它出现的时间可真是恰到好处。一方的故意刁难说明了另一方坚持其主张的必要性。人们从报复行动中看到这一切。正是英王的演讲非但没有吓倒人，反而推动了勇敢的独立原则的产生。

遵循礼节，或者保持沉默，不论动机如何，那些对卑鄙和邪恶表现表现出任何支持倾向的行为都是有害的。如果我们认可这个说法，那么英国国王邪恶之极的演讲就理应受到议会和民众普遍的憎恶。然而，由于一个国家的内部安定很大程度上取决于对所谓国家事务的忠贞，对某些事情可以在沉默中轻蔑地一笑而过，而不必试图对我们和平和安全的守护神表示憎恨，因为这于事无补。也许主要出于这种审慎的考虑，英王的演讲在此前没有受到公众谴责。这一演讲，如果可以称其为一次演讲的话，不过是对事实、公共福祉和人类存在的肆无忌惮的诽谤，是冠冕堂皇地牺牲人类、满足暴君尊严的一种方式。类似对人类的大规模屠杀是国王们的特权，也是国王们带来的恶果。大自然不了解他们，他们也不了解大自然。尽管我们制造出了国王，但是他们并不了解我们，还自命为神。这篇演讲有一点好处，那就是它不打算欺骗谁，而且也骗不了我们，即使我们自己愿意被欺骗。残暴和专制在这篇演讲中已经表现得太明显了。阅读这篇演讲，我们没有任何迷惑：即使是在阅读过程中，每一行字都让我们相信，即使是那些在树林里寻找猎物的赤身裸体、未经教化的印第安人，也不如英国国王残忍。

被谬称为《英国人民致美洲居民书》——一篇充满哀鸣的阴险作品的假定作者约翰·达尔林普尔，徒劳地认为这里的人民会被文章的气势和对国王的描述所吓倒，在文章中讲述了现今国王的真实性格（虽然他这样做是很不明智的）。“但是”，作者说，“如果你愿意称颂一个政府（指撤销《印花税法案》的罗金哈姆侯爵内阁），我们不会有什么抱怨，”“但是如果你忘记歌颂那位君王，那是十分不公正的，因为只有经过他的同意，其他人才被允许做任何事情。”这是赤裸裸的保王主义！这是毫不掩饰的偶像崇拜。谁要是听到这样的说教无动于衷，而且还听信这样的说教，他就是一个失去了明辨是非能力的人——一个背离了人性常规的人，应被视为不但放弃了人类正常的尊严，而且让自己堕落到连畜生都不如的境地，像一条虫子一样在世界上令人鄙视地爬行。

不过，现在英王说什么或做什么都已不重要了，他已经完全恶毒地破坏了每一项道义的和人性的责任，践踏了天性和良知，并且一步步地以他与生俱来的傲慢和残忍为自己招来了普遍的仇恨。现在是美洲自力更生的时候了。她已经拥有一个年轻而庞大的家庭了，她更需要做的是照顾他们，而不是把财产用于支持一个让人类和基督徒蒙羞的政权。那些负责守望国家（不论哪一派别）德行的人，以及直接守护社会自由的人，如果你们要保护自己的祖国不被欧洲的腐败污染，那么你们的内心一定是渴望脱离英国。然而，把有关道德的部分留给个人去思考，我要继续主要就以下内容阐述我的想法。

首先，脱离英国符合美洲的利益。

其次，哪一种方案更为可行，是和解还是独立？顺便谈一些零星的看法。

关于第一点，如果我认为合适的话，我会举出这个大陆上一些最能干、最有经验的人的观点，他们在这个问题上的想法目前还不为公众所知。实际上，这是一个不言而喻的立场：没有国家在依附于他国，贸易有限，而且立法权力有限且受控制的情况下，能够在物质方面有大成就。美洲还从来没有了解富足为何物。虽然相对于其他国家，她的进步神速，但是如果她能把立法权力掌握在自己手里的话，她目前的成就与她的能力所能达到的程度比较还处于儿童时期。英国目前正傲慢地垂涎于即使她能够得到，也不能给她带来任何好处的东西；美洲大陆正在一件事关自身存亡的事情上犹豫不决。能给英国带来利益的是贸易，而不是对美洲的征服。在各国像法国和西班牙一样相互独立的情况下，这种状况将在很大程度上得以延续，因为在很多商品方面，没有国家能找到更好的市场。不过目前的主要话题，也是唯一值得争论的内容，是这个国家脱离英国或者其他任何国家获得独立。这像所有其他必然要被发现的真理一样，将日益显得清晰而有力。

首先，因为这是迟早要发生的事情。

其次，因为这件事拖得越久，就越难以完成。

我时常在公众场合以及私下与朋友在一起时，谈论那些讲话不加思考的人犯下的似是而非的错误。在我听过的许多说法中，下面的一种似乎最为普遍，也就是说，如果与英国的裂痕发生在四五十年后，而不是现在，那么美洲大陆更加具备摆脱对英国依赖的能力。针对这种说法，我的回答是，我们目前的军事力量来自上一次战争，而过了四五十年后这一力量就完全消失了。到那个时候，美洲大陆将不再有将军，甚至是一个普通的军官依然在世。而我们以及我们的后来者将像古代印第安人一样对军事一无所知。如果认真研究的话，单是这一点就足以证明现在比任何其他时候都合适。论证的过程是这样的：在上次战争结束时，我们积累了作战经验，但是军队数量少；在四五十年后，我们在数量上没有问题了，但是却失去了经验；因此，合适的时间应该是位于两个极端之间的某个特定的时段，即我们依然拥有足够的经验，而数量也有了适当的增加：那个时间点就是现在。

希望读者原谅我偏离了主题，因为刚才谈论的内容不适合放在我起初的话题之下。现在我就要回到这个主题，谈论以下的主张，即:

如果我们与英国的关系能够得到修补，英国依旧是美洲的管理者和主权国（根据目前的状况，美洲正在完全放弃这个主张），我们将丧失偿还已有的或未来债款的能力。随着加拿大以每100英亩仅5英镑的价格不公正地扩展她的边界，一些省份的边远地区被秘密剥夺的土地价值相当于2500多万宾夕法尼亚货币。免役税以每英亩一便士计，每年价值达200万。

正是通过出售那些土地，债款才可以在不给任何人增加负担的情况下得到偿还，而且保留的免役税可以减轻，并且最终完全支持政府每年的运转费用。只要土地出售的收入是用来偿还债务的，债款需要偿还多长时间并不重要。要完成这项工作，大陆会议可以暂时担任美洲大陆的受托管理人。

我现在开始谈论第二项，即哪一种方案更可行，和解还是独立？顺便谈一些零星的想法。

那些从自然界寻找方向的人是不容易被驳倒的，从这一点出发，我总体的回答是这样的：独立是唯一一条简单的路线，一条我们自己可以把握的路线；而和解是一项极其令人迷惑而且复杂的事情，要受到奸诈而多变的王室的干扰，答案也是毫无悬念的。

在任何一个认真思考的人来看，美国目前的状况都是令人震惊的。没有法律，没有政府，除了别人恩赐的权力外没有其他任何形式的权力。美洲目前由空前一致的情感联系在一起，然而这种情形会发生变化，而且每一个隐藏的敌人都在设法破坏这种团结。我们所处的环境是这样的：有立法机构但是不能制定法律，有智慧但是没有计划，有政体但是没有名号，并且非常令人奇怪的是，有完美的独立条件但是却希望继续依赖英国。我们目前的处境找不到任何先例，以前没有这样的情况，谁能知道未来将会如何？在目前体制松散的形势下，没有人的财产是安全的。大多数人的想法是随意性的，他们眼前没有固定的目标，追逐幻想或者听信流言。没有什么算是犯罪，不存在叛国这一事情。因此，每个人都认为自己可以随心所欲。如果他们知道根据国家的法律，那样做会让自己丧失性命，亲英分子就不敢那样进行挑衅性的集会了。有必要区别对待在战斗中俘获的英国士兵和所捉获的手执武器镇压同胞的美洲居民，前者是俘虏，而后者是叛徒。一个要剥夺他的自由，另一个要砍掉他的脑袋。

尽管我们不乏智慧，但是我们的行动有明显的弱点，助长了意见的分歧。“大陆的皮带”扣得太松。如果某件事情没有及时去做，做任何其他事情都会太迟的。我们会陷入一种既不能取得和解，也不能获得独立的尴尬境地。国王和他不中用的追随者又玩起了在美洲大陆制造分裂的老把戏，而我们中间不乏忙着散播一些似是而非的谎言的“印刷匠”。几个月前刊登在纽约两家报纸上以及其他两家报纸上的那封狡诈和虚伪的来信，证明有些人既缺乏判断力，又不诚实。

躲在角落里谈论和解很容易，但是这些人是否认真考虑过这项工作有多么困难，如果大陆因而分裂的话那会多么危险。他们是否注意到在这方面需要考虑各种人，而不只是他们自己的处境。他们是否设身处地考虑了那些已经一无所有的人的处境，还有那些为保卫自己的国家放弃了一切的士兵们。如果他们糊涂的克制策略只适合他们自己的情况，没有考虑到其他人，那么最终结果会让他们相信，“他们是擅自做主”。

有些人说，让我们回到1763年的情况吧。我的回答是：英国现在没有能力满足这个要求，而且她也不会希望这样做。然而如果英国愿意这样做，而且满足了这个要求，我想问一个比较合理的问题：用什么方法让这样一个腐败、不讲信义的宫廷履行自己的义务呢？另外一个议会，不，甚至现在的议会，都会在以后借口说这种义务是强加的，或者说当初没有考虑充分，因而决定加以取消。如果出现这种情况，我们去向谁申诉？我们没有办法像其他国家一样诉诸法律；国王通过大炮对我们说话，战争而非正义之剑决定这件事情的结果。要回到1763年的状态，只是把法律放在同样的状态是不够的，还要让我们的境况与当年相同；我们被焚烧并且被破坏的城镇要能够得到修补或重建，我们的私人损失要得到补偿，公共债务（国防债务）要得到豁免。否则，即使我们能够生活在那个令人羡慕的时代，我们的处境也会比过去更糟糕。如果这样的要求在一年前能够被满足，英国或许能够赢得美洲大陆全身心的拥护。但是现在太迟了，机会已经逝去。

如果拿起武器只是为了推动废除一部财政法律，这似乎没有神圣的法律依据，而且，就如拿起武器来要求顺从一样不合情理。并且也是不合情理的。不必要通过这样的方式和手段来实现这样的目标。人的生命是宝贵的，不应该浪费在这样的琐事上。别人对我们实施以及威胁实施暴力；别人用武力毁坏我们的财产；别人通过武力侵占我们的家园，这些才是真正需要我们拿起武器反抗的事情。一旦需要进行这样的防卫，所有对英国的臣服关系就要中断，而美洲的独立则可以从向英国打响第一枪算起。这条线是连贯一致的，既非出自任意妄为，也非出自野心。这是一连串的事件导致的结果，肇事者不是这些殖民地。

我想用一些及时的、善意的提示来结束我的谈话。我们应该意识到，以后有三种实现独立的可能途径，其中的一项将最终决定美洲的命运。这三种你怎么是：通过大陆会议通过的立法；通过军事斗争；或者通过暴民暴动。我们的士兵不一定总是由公民组成，而且并非大多数人永远是有理性的人。我之前说过，德行是不能遗传的，而且不是永远存在的。如果独立是通过第一种方式实现的，那么我们就有无数的机会和支持来成立地球上最高尚、最纯洁的政体。我们有能力重建世界。自诺亚方舟时代以来，类似于我们目前的处境还绝无仅有。新世界的诞生就在眼前，一群数量不亚于欧洲居民的人将在持续几个月的事件后获得他们的自由。这样的想法令人震惊，而且从这个角度看，少数懦夫或利益群体卑鄙的无端指责同这具有世界意义的事业相比显得多么微不足道、多么可笑啊。

如果我们忽视目前的有利时机，以后通过其他方式获得独立，我们必须自己承担后果，或者是怪罪那些思想狭隘和有偏见的人，那些习惯性地不加调查和思索就反对别人主张的人。关于独立，我们可以举出很多理由，然而这些理由无需明告知，人们只须内心细想即可明白。我们现在不应该讨论是否要独立，而是要以坚定、可靠和有尊严的方式抓紧去实现独立，对现在争取独立的努力尚未开始而深感不安。每一天都让我们更加认识到独立的必要性。所有人，甚至保王派人士（如果他们还在我们中间的话）都应该是最急于推动美洲独立的人，因为在起初任命了几个委员会后，他们就会免遭民众愤怒的攻击，而一个智慧的、完善的政府形式，是唯一可以让他们的生活平安继续的方式。因此，即使他们的德行不足以让他们成为辉格党人士，他们也应该足够谨慎地希望美洲独立。

总之，独立是把我们团结在一起的唯一纽带。此后，我们将找到我们的目标，可以正大光明地不再理会那个迷人但是残忍的敌人提出的各种方案，我们将以合适的身份与英国交往。我们有理由认为，相对于与“叛逆的臣民”谈和解，与美洲各州谈论和平条款，英国王室的自尊将更多地得以保全。正是我们的犹豫不决鼓励了她征服美洲的希望，而且我们的迟钝只能让战争时间延长。我们中断了与英国的贸易以弥补我们遭受的屈辱，但是这对我们并没有好处。现在让我们尝试另一种做法吧，让我们通过独立解决这些问题，然后主动提出开放贸易。英国土地上的商业群体和理性人士将继续和我们站在一起，因为和平与贸易胜过有战争而无贸易。如果英国不接受我们的提议，那么我们将去寻求其他国家的贸易。

关于这个话题我就谈到这里。鉴于目前还没有人站出来反驳我在前两版提出的主张，可以认为这从反面证明了这一主张是驳不倒的，或者是支持者甚多。因此，请不要再以怀疑或好奇的眼光相互对视，让我们向邻居真诚地伸出友谊之手，联手画一条界限，忘记和埋葬过去所有的分歧。让辉格党和保王党的名字消亡吧，让我们两耳所闻皆是“一个好公民”，“一个开明而果敢的朋友”，“一个对人类权利和对自由独立的美洲联邦的品德高尚的支持者”这样的称呼。

致被称为贵格会教徒的人民宗教协会的代表们，或者他们中间许多最近参与出版《贵格会教徒历代箴言和原则新编，关于国王和政府，以及在美洲各地发生的骚乱，致广大民众》的人士。

本书的作者属于少数从未对宗教表示不敬，从不讥讽或无端指责任何教派的人。在宗教方面，所有人都要向上帝负责，而不是向某个人负责。因此，这封信视你们为一个政治团体，而不是宗教团体，因为你们涉足了沉思安静的教派教义禁止的活动。

鉴于你们在没有得到适当授权的情况下，自命为代表所有的贵格会教徒，为了与你们平等对话，本书的作者也自命为代表所有对你们的观点持相反意见的人。为了帮助你们看到自己看不到的自以为是的问题，作者也选择了一个独特的状况。实际上，他和你们都没有资格称自己有政治代表性。

当人脱离正确轨道时，出现跌跌撞撞的情况也就不足为奇。从你们编写箴言的方法上可以明显看出，政治不是你们（作为一个宗教团体）擅长的领域。也许你们认为这本书已经改编得不错了，但是它不过是胡乱堆砌了一些善恶的例子，因此得出的结论是不自然、不公正的。

前两页（整本书也不过4页）我们认为做得不错，而且我们期待你们的表现同样彬彬有礼，因为不只是贵格会教徒才热爱和期盼和平，和平是所有人发自内心的期望，也是所有宗教派别的期望。在这片土地上，在人们为建立我们独立的政体而奋斗的过程中，我们的希望和目标高于所有其他人。我们的目标是永久的和平。我们厌倦了与英国的争吵，我们认为除了最终独立无法真正结束这一切。我们的行动连贯一致，为了争取到永久的、不受干扰的和平，我们要暂时忍受目前的邪恶并且承担重任。我们正在努力，并且将继续不断努力，切断那种让我们流血的联系。如果这种名义继续存在，她将成为未来两国的祸根。

我们既不是为复仇而战，也不是为征服而战；既不是出于骄傲而战，也不是出于情绪而战。我们没有率领军舰和军队在世界各地耀武扬威，也没有到处抢夺。我们在自己的家园里被袭击，在自己的土地上遭遇针对自己的暴力犯罪。我们视敌人为拦路的劫匪，打家劫舍的强盗。在得不到民法保护的情况下，被迫用军事手段惩罚他们。在同样的情况下，我们使用了刀剑，而你们过去使用过绞索。我们对整个美洲大陆受摧残、受羞辱的人深感同情。可能你们还没有感受到我们的心情，但是请你们编写箴言时不要搞错了批评的对象，不要随意引用材料，不要把宗教等同于冷酷无情，也不要让固执己见的人代表基督徒。

不过，你们中间还是有人讲原则的。如果拿起武器是有罪的，那么首先挑起战争的人更加罪孽深重，因为故意进攻和被迫进行不可避免的防卫毕竟是不同的。因此，如果你们真心宣扬你们的宗教，而不是把它作为政治宣传工具的话，那么请用行动让我们相信。请向我们的敌人宣传你们的主张，因为他们也同样拿起了武器。请用行动证明你们的诚意，在圣·詹姆斯发表这本书，把它送给在波士顿的部队首领，送给像海盗一样骚扰我们海疆的海军舰队司令，以及所有在你们宣称效忠的英国国王的命令下屠戮百姓的恶棍们。如果你们有巴克莱【5】那样诚实的灵魂，你们应该向你们的国王宣扬忏悔。你们应该告诉他自己犯下的罪行，并且警告他避免永久毁灭的后果。你们不应该不公正地一味攻击那些受到伤害和羞辱的人，而应该像忠实的牧师一样，大声疾呼，一视同仁。不要说你们受到了迫害，也不要说我们指责你们，你们是自食其果。我们向所有人作证，我们不是因为你们是贵格会教徒才对你们表示不满，而是因为你们冒称是贵格会教徒。

唉！从你们提供的部分箴言和你们的行为来看，好像所有的罪恶都与拿起武器有关，而且只与民众拿起武器有关。看起来好像你们混淆了派系与公平的界线，因为总的来看你们的行为缺少一致性。我们很难相信你们伪装的不安，因为你们的人声称鄙夷财富，然而同时却对金钱趋之若骛。

你们在箴言的第三页引用的格言，即“如果一个人的行为让上帝满意，那么他甚至也会让敌人与自己和平相处”，对你们来说选择得十分不合适。因为它相当于证明了，国王的行为（你们是如此愿意支持他）让上帝不满意，否则他统治下的王国应是和平的。

我现在来分析你们箴言的后半部分，而在此之前的不过是引子。

“自从我们受召唤传播耶稣基督的光辉以来，我们内心的想法和遵循的原则一直是这样的，即树立或者废除国王和政府是上帝的特权，原因只有他自己知道。我们不应该插手此事或者与之有任何牵连，不要越权行事，更不要说密谋推翻任何国王和政府，而是要为国王、国家的安全和所有人的安康祈祷：愿我们拥有和平和安静的生活，彼此友善、真诚相待。让我们服从上帝为我们安排的政府。”如果这些真的是你们的原则，那么为什么你们自己不遵守这些原则？为什么不把你们所称的上帝的工作留给上帝自己处理？正是这些原则要求你们耐心并且谦逊地等待所有公共事件的结果，就像接受神的旨意一样接受事件的结果。那么如果你们真正相信你们的政治箴言，什么是适合它的场合呢？出版这本书要么证明你们自己并不相信自己宣扬的主张，要么说明你们追随自己信仰的德行不够。

贵格会的宗旨倾向于让人变得安静和与世无争，顺从任何管理他们的政府。如果树立或者废除国王和政府是上帝的特权，那么他一定不会受我们的影响。因此，这条原则本身让你们同意在国王身上发生的任何事情都是上帝的旨意，为此奥里佛·克伦威尔要向你们致谢。那么查尔斯也不是死于普通人之手；如果现在傲慢地模仿他的这个人同样死于非命，那么按此说法，这本箴言的作者们和出版商们应该表现得欢欣鼓舞。国王们不是被神迹带走的，政府变更也不是由常见的人力之外的任何其他方式实现的，而是像我们正在使用的方式一样。甚至我们的救世主预见到的驱逐犹太人的事件都是由武力完成的。因此，既然你们不愿意支持一方，那么你们也不应该干扰另外一方，而是应该静静地等待事情的结果。除非你们能通过神权来证明，上帝创造了这个新世界，并且把它安排在距离旧世界尽可能远的地方，一个在东边，一个在西边，但是却不愿让它脱离腐败、无约束的英国宫廷。除非你们能证明这一点，否则如何能根据你们的原则说明鼓动人们“坚定一致地憎恨所有表达希望与英国中断联系、中断与英国正当和必要的附属关系，以及与国王任命的政权关系的著作和措施”是一件正确的事情。这是多么有力的一记耳光啊！那些人刚刚还默默地、顺从地把任命、改变和废黜国王和政府的事务交到上帝手里，现在却要收回他们的原则，参与到这一事务中来。刚才提到的结论难道也是源自他们的主张吗？这里出现的相互矛盾实在太过明显，想不被发现都难；这样的情况太过荒唐，不感到好笑都难。制造出这种情况的，只能是那些受到某个绝望的政党狭隘、易怒的品性影响的人，因为你们不能被视为代表整个贵格会，而只是代表其中很小的一部分。

对你们箴言的分析到此为止（虽然你们如此对我，但我并不号召任何人憎恨这本书，而只是希望大家公正地阅读并评判它）。我还想补充几句话。“树立和废黜国王”肯定是指把一个并非国王的人推上王位，并驱赶在位的国王。这与我们现在做的事情有什么相干呢？我们既不想树立，也不想废黜国王，而只是不想与他存在任何联系。因此，不论怎么看，结论都是你们的判断有问题；综合各种因素，这样的文章还不如不发表来得好。

首先，它可能让各类宗教的形象受损，而且让宗教团体参与政治纠纷是社会的大忌。

其次，事实证明多数人不同意发表这篇政治箴言，不同意把自己描述成关心并且支持这件事情。

还有，它可能会破坏美洲大陆的和谐与友谊，这种和谐与友谊也得益于你们的慷慨捐助。保持这种和谐与友谊对我们来说至关重要。

说到这里，我要向你们说再见了，既没有生气，也没有怨恨。我诚挚地祝愿你们，不论是作为普通人还是基督徒，希望你们能够永远不受干扰地充分享受每一项民事和宗教权利，并帮助其他人获得这样的权利。但是你们不明智地把宗教和政治混在一起的先例，将会遭到每一位美洲居民的反对和批评。

终

注释

【1】莱克星顿大屠杀——潘恩

【2】托马斯·阿涅洛，又名马萨涅洛，是那不勒斯的一名渔夫。他在公共市场上号召同胞反对当时统治那不勒斯的西班牙人的压迫，并鼓动他们起义，结果他在一天中间便成了国王。——潘恩

【3】本版的第43页——英文第三版编辑注

【4】那些希望充分了解广泛和平等的代表制度对一个国家的重要性的人，可以阅读波格所著的《政治研究》一书。——潘恩

【5】“你们享受过繁荣，也经历过逆境。你们知道什么是为祖国所不耻的，知道什么是被统治，什么是统治和登上王位。身处被压迫的地位，你们有理由知道压迫者在上帝和人类眼里是多么可恨。如果在这些警告和声明后你们还不能真心顺服上帝，而是忘记了这个在你们困难时候眷顾你们的人，仍然纵情声色，爱慕虚荣，你们当然要遭受严厉的惩罚。——要避免陷阱，以及那些让你做坏事的诱惑，最有效也是最普遍的做法是接受上帝之光照耀心灵，它不会哄你们高兴，也不会让你们犯罪之后仍然心情坦然。——巴克莱《致查尔斯二世书》——潘恩

涉及土地的公平问题

英文版作者序言

下面这篇文章著于1795的冬季和1796年。因为起初我并不打算在战争进行期间或者和平到来之前发表，所以它在完成后就一直在我身边，没有修改或增添什么。

让我决定现在发表的动因是兰达夫的沃森主教所做的一次布道。我的一些读者可能会想到，这位主教曾写过一本名为《向圣经致歉》一书，回应我的《理性的时代》第二部分。我现在正好有一本这位主教写的书，因此我想就这本书谈一些看法。

在这本书的结尾，有一份他写过的作品的书单。其中就有那篇布道文，题目是“上帝在创造富人和穷人过程中展示的智慧和慈爱；附录中有关于目前英国和法国当前局势的思考”。

在这篇布道文中发现的错误促使我决定出版我的《涉及土地的公平问题》这本书。认为上帝制造了富人和穷人是错误的，上帝只是创造了男人和女人，而且给予他们可以继承的土地……

牧师们应该考虑的是改善人类的普遍处境……而不是高傲地向一部分人表示支持。宗教的实用性体现在做善事上，而且服务上帝的唯一方式是努力让上帝的子民更幸福。与此无关的所有布道都是胡说八道，装模作样。

托马斯·潘恩

涉及土地的公平问题

立法改革的目的之一应该是保持文明生活的优势，同时修正其中的弊端。

那种被骄傲地（有可能是错误地）称为文明的东西是极大地促进了还是减少了人们的普遍幸福，这个问题十分值得探讨。一方面，旁观者看到的是华丽的外表；另一方面，他们看到的是令人震惊的凄惨生活。这两种状况都是由文明造成的。人类最富有和最悲惨的阶层在所谓的文明国家中并存。

要理解社会应该是什么样的状况，有必要了解一下人类在自然和原始状态下生活的情况，比如目前北美印第安人的状况。在那种状况下，看不到在欧洲所有城镇和街道上都可以见到的穷人凄惨生活的景象，也看不到因贫穷和物品缺乏而造成的景象。

因此，贫穷是那个所谓文明生活的产物。它不存在于自然状态。另一方面，自然状态不具备由农业、艺术、科学和制造业带来的优势。

印第安人的生活与欧洲穷人相比是持续的假日，而与欧洲富人相比又显得很悲惨。因此，文明或者所谓的文明，有着两方面的作用：它使得社会的一部分人比在自然状况下更富有，而使另外一部分人比在自然状况下更加悲惨。

从自然状态过渡到文明状态的可能性是一直存在的，但是从文明状态转变为自然状态是绝对不可能的。这是因为，在自然状态下人们靠打猎为生，相对于在文明状态下耕种土地的人，获取足够的食物所需要的土地面积是后者的十倍。

因此，当一个国家在耕作、艺术和科学的额外作用下变得人口稠密，就需要将此时的状态保持下去，因为如果不这样做，可能就没有足够的食物供应十分之一以上的居民。因此，现在需要做的就是修正社会从自然状况向文明状况的过渡中出现的弊端，并保留其优势。

从这一立场出发考虑问题，文明的首要原则应该是每一个在文明社会出生的人的处境都不应该比在文明开始前的状况更差。

但是实际情况是，在欧洲的每一个国家，数百万人的状况远比他们出生在文明开始前要差，也比当前出生在北美印第安地区要差。下面我将说明这种情况是如何发生的。

勿庸置疑，土地在自然、未开垦状态下过去是，而且未来也将一直是人类的共同财产。在那样的状况下，每个人应该生来拥有财产。他应该是与其他人终身共享土地及其所有的自然产出、蔬菜和动物。

但是如前所述，自然状态下的土地与开垦后的土地相比只能够供养少数的居民。由于不可能将耕作带来的改进与土地本身分割开（这种改进是在土地上进行的），因此就产生了土地财产这一概念，以表达这种不可分割的关系。但是事实上，属于个人财产的只有改进带来的价值，而不包括土地本身。

因此，每个农耕土地的所有人需要为他所拥有的土地向社区交纳地租（因为我不知道还有什么更好的词语来表达这一概念）。这些地租将汇集成为本方案中所提及的基金。

从事物的本质以及历史演变都可推断，土地财产这一概念是从农耕时代开始的，在此之前不存在。它不可能在人类的第一阶段，即狩猎阶段存在。它也不存在于人类的第二阶段，即畜牧阶段。从圣经中记载的可以相信的历史看，亚伯拉罕、艾萨克、雅各布和约伯都不曾拥有土地。

他们的财产都以牛羊群计数，并且随着他们从一个地方搬迁到另一个地方。在他们居住的气候干燥的阿拉伯地区，人们往往因为一口井的使用而起纷争，这也说明当时没有土地财产。把土地作为财产还没有得到认可。

起初是不会有土地财产这样的事物的。土地不是人创造的，尽管人们很自然地拥有在土地上生活的权力，却没有权利将其中的任何一部分永久地据为己有。土地的造物主也没有开设土地办公室，颁发第一批地契。那么土地财产这一概念是从何时开始的呢？如前面所回答的那样：当耕种开始时，土地财产这一概念就开始形成了。这些都源于无法将农耕带来的改进与土地本身分隔开，因为这些改进就是在土地上进行的。

改进的价值超过了天然土地的价值，以至于后者的价值被湮没其中。到后来，所有人共同拥有的权利被融合到个人的耕种权利之中。但是仍存在不同种类的权利，只要土地存在，将来依旧会如此。

对于某些事物，只有追根溯源才能正确理解它们，并由此发现对与错的界限，而且让每个人了解这个界限。我把本文命名为《涉及土地的公平问题》，以区分于《农耕法》。

在一个耕作带来土地价值改良的国家，最不公平的法令就是农耕法。因为尽管作为这块土地的居民，每个人都是原始土地的共有人，但这并不意味着他也是耕作后土地的共有人。在这一体制得到认可后，由农耕附加给土地的价值就变成了耕种者的财产，或者是他们的继承人或购买者的财产。这土地本来没有主人。尽管我主张并且热心于维护那些因土地财产制的实行而丧失土地继承权的人的权利，我同样要捍卫那些获得了应得土地的人权利。

农耕至少是人类发明带来的对自然界最伟大的改进之一。它使得开垦后的土地十倍于原来的价值。但是随之而产生的土地垄断造成了最大的罪恶。它使得每个国家一半以上的居民被剥夺了天然的拥有权，而且他们的损失没有获得相应的补偿。由此产生了前所未有的贫穷和悲惨的人群。

在为被剥夺继承权利的人们呼吁时，我所申辩的是保护他们的权利，而不是给予他们施舍。这属于那种起先被忽视，而后只能通过政府体制革命才能得以伸张的权利。让我们向这些革命致敬，因为它们所做的是维护正义；让我们宣扬这些原则，因为它们带给我们福祉。

在简单讲述了这件事情的意义后，下面我将提出我的方案，即：

建立一个国家基金，从中向每一个年满21岁的人支付15英镑，作为对他或她因土地财产体制的实行而丧失天然继承权的部分补偿。

此外，向在世的每个年满50岁的人每年支付10英镑直至他们死亡，同时向今后所有其他活到这个年龄的人提供同样的待遇。

基金形成的方式

我已经确立了一个原则，也就是土地在未开垦状态下一直是人类共有的财产。在这种状态下，每个人都生来就有财产。与耕作和所谓的文明生活密不可分的土地财产体制剥夺并且吸纳了一部人的财产，却没有对他们的损失给与相应的赔偿。

然而，错并不在于现有的土地财产拥有者身上。不需要埋怨他们，除非他们采取了有违公正的犯罪手段。错误在于这个体制，它悄悄地潜入这个世界，随后又得到农耕法律之利剑的支持。但后世可修正这个错误，可以在不减少或打乱现有土地拥有者的财产的情况下，在基金建立的当年全面启动基金的运行，或者此后不久启动。我下面会说明运行的方式。

如前所述，建议向所有人（无论是贫穷还是富有）支付补偿金，以避免因待遇不同引发嫉妒和怨恨。这是正确的做法，因为补偿金是用来替代天然继承权的，而天然继承权是每个人都拥有的权利。这种权利不同于他所创造的财产或从创造财产的人手中继承来的财产。不愿意接受补偿金的人可以把它捐赠给公共基金。

如果可以想当然地认为，一个人如果出生在文明状态下，不应该比他出生在自然状态下的处境更差，而文明应该为这一目的做好准备，那么实现方式只能是从财产中提取相当于它所吸收的自然资产价值部分。

实现这一目的可以有很多种方法，但是看起来最好的方法是（不仅是因为这一方法实施起来不会影响现有的拥有者，不会干涉税款的征收或政府运作和革命需要的借款，而且还因为这一方法最简单、最有效，此外财产扣除的时机最合适）在财产因某个人的死亡而传给另一个人时实施。在这种情况下，馈赠者没有给与什么，接受者也没有支付什么。与他唯一有关的是对天然继承权的垄断（从来就不存在这样的垄断权）在他这儿开始终结。一个慷慨的人不会希望这一垄断继续，公正的人会很高兴看到这一垄断被废除。

我的健康状况让我无法对概率论作充分的研究，并在此基础上做出尽可能精确的计算。因此，我在这一方面提供的更多的是观察和思考的结果，而不是从获得的信息得出的结果。但是我相信这样的结果会与事实充分一致。首先将21岁作为成年期，国家的所有财产、不动产和个人财产，通常都是由这个年龄段以上的人拥有。作为计算的基准点，有必要知道人们在这个年龄以上平均还能活多少年。我把30年作为平均数，因为尽管许多人在21岁之后还会再活40、50或60年，其他人则会去世得早一些，在此期间每年都会有一些人去世。

假设我们知道平均时间为30年，那么在物质总量不变的情况下就可以知道一个国家所有的财产或资本或相等数量的财富经历一个循环的平均时间，也就是随着一些人的去世，财产的拥有人发生变化的时间。尽管在很多情况下，某个人拥有一些资本会长达40年、50年或60年，但是其他资本在满30年之前已经循环了两到三次。这样一来，平均时间还是30年。因为如果一个国家半数的资本在30年里循环两次，产生的基金数量就相当于所有的资本在30年里循环了一次。

如果我们把30年作为一个国家所有的资本，或者相等数量的资本，循环一次的平均时间，那么1／30的部分就是每年循环的数量，即因有人去世而转移给其他人的财产数量。在知晓了这一数字，并且确定了扣除的比例之后，就可以知道这一基金在按照上面提到的方式支付后每年的收入。

在查看这篇在英国被称作预算的英国首相皮特的讲话（1796年财政计划）时，我发现在开头部分有对英国国家资本的估算。因为我手头有这一估算数字，我就把它们作为我谈论相关问题的基础。在一个国家的可知资本和人口被计算出来之后，其他国家可以将这些数据作为参考，并依据自己的资本和人口数量作出相应决策。

我更倾向于借鉴皮特的估算，以说明根据他自己的计算方式，钱可以花在更有用的地方，而不是像他那样浪费在建立波旁王朝的疯狂举动上。波旁王朝的国王对英国国民来说算得了什么？还不如保证人们有面包吃呢。

皮特先生说英国的国家资产，包括不动产和个人财产，是13亿英镑，这是法国（包括比利时）国家资本的四分之一。各国上一次收获季节的情况证明，法国的土壤比英国的更为高产。法国的土地足可以供养2,400或2,500万居民，而英国的土地只能供养700万或750万人。

13亿资本的三十分之一是43,333,333英镑，这些就是每年这一国家去世的人传给新拥有者的那一部分资本。以四比一的比例计算，法国这一数字是每年1亿7千3百万英镑。从这一每年循环的43,333,333英镑中要减去其中所吸收的自然资产的价值。公平来讲，这一比例应该在十分之一。

有可能出现的一种情况是，每年循环的资产的一部分是传给直系儿女的，而其他则是传给旁系亲属的，这两种情况的比例大约是三比一。也就是说，大约3千万英镑会传给直系继承人，其他13,333,333英镑由远亲或者陌生人继承。

那么考虑到人们总是和社会联系在一起的，这种联系会因为下一代亲属关系的疏远而相应变得更为重要。因此，如果没有直系亲属，归社会的部分应该超过十分之一。

如果根据下一代亲属关系的远近不同，这一额外的部分为5％到10％或12％，以平衡可能减少的无人继承的财产，（这一部分应该给社会而不是给政府，这将另外增加10％以上），那么每年43,333,333英镑中会有如下数量进入基金：

30,000,000×10％＝3,000,000

13,333,333×10％＋13,333,333×10％

＝2,666,666

总计：从43,333,333英镑中可以得到5,666,666英镑注入基金。

在计算出所提议的基金年度额度之后，我下一步要谈一谈与这个基金相配比的人口，并将它与基金的用途相比较。

人口（我是指英国的人口）不超过750万，在这种情况下50岁以上的人数大约是40万。然而每年接受所提议的10英镑的人数不会超过40万，尽管他们有权得到。我不认为年收入在200或300英镑的人会接受它。我们常常看到，富有的人即便是在60岁时也会突然变得一贫如洗。然而他们有提取所有欠款的权利。因此，需要从上面提及的每年5,666,666英镑中提取4百万给40万上了年纪的人，每人10英镑。

下面我来谈谈每年年满21岁的人员。如果所有人都是在年满21岁后才死亡，要让人口保持稳定，每年年满21岁的人数应该等于每年死亡的人数。但是不到21岁便死亡的人较多，因此每年年满21岁的人数还不到死亡人数的一半。

750万人口中每年死亡的总人数大约为22万。每年年满21岁的人数大约为10万。出于刚才提到的原因，尽管像前面提到的情况一样，他们有权获得这15英镑，但不是所有满足条件的人都会接受这笔钱。如果认为十分之一的人拒绝接受这15英镑，相应的数额就是这样的：

每个国家都有一些盲人和身体有残疾的人完全无法独立维持生计，但是因为大多数盲人都是50岁以上的人，他们将享受那个年龄阶段的待遇。剩余316,666英镑将发放给50岁以下的盲人和身体有残疾的人，每年每人10英镑。

在完成了所有必要的计算，并且介绍了本方案的细节之后，我想在结尾谈一些想法。

我所请求的不是施舍而是一种权力，不是慷慨赠与而是公正。文明目前的状况既令人厌恶，又不公正。它完全有悖于本来的面目，有必要对其进行一次变革。富裕和不幸的对比不断进入人们的视线，就像死人和活人的身体被锁链绑在一起一样。尽管我像其他人一样不爱财，但是我是财富的朋友，因为它们能够用来做善事。

我不关心人们要多么富有，只要他们不会因此而生活得很凄惨就行。如果生活中有那么多的凄惨情景，人们很难有心情来享受财富带来的愉悦。悲惨的生活情景以及它所引起的不快虽然可以暂时得到压制，却不可能令其彻底消失。相对于扣除财产的1/10，这样的场景对财富带来的幸福感影响更大。不愿意出钱消除贫困的人没有仁爱之心，对自己也是这样。

在每个国家都有许多由个人设立的条件良好的慈善机构。然而考虑到所有需要减轻的苦难，任何个人所能做的非常有限。他或许可以使自己的良知得到满足，却无法使他的内心得到满足。他或许可以倾其所有，但也只是杯水车薪。只有依照滑轮系统那样的原理将文明社会组织起来，整个苦难的重担才有可能被消除。

此处提出的方案涉及到全民。这一方案会立即使三类贫困人群，即盲人、有残疾的人以及上了年纪的穷人，得以解救并在我们的视线内消失。这一方案还会给新兴一代提供避免穷困的方法。它不会扰乱或干扰国家的任何安排。

为了说明情况确实将会如此，只需要观察一下这项方案将会达到的普遍效果，即每个人都仿佛自愿地订立遗嘱并按以下建议的方式处理财产。

但是这一方案的原则是公正而不是慈善。在所有重大事务中，确立一个具普遍积极意义的原则比慈善更重要。至于公正，不应该由孤立的个人来选择是否要维护公正。如果要考虑维护公正，实施公正的主体应该是全民因循革命的原则自发产生的行动，行动应该以国家而不是个人的名义进行。

建立在这一原则基础之上的方案将使革命受益，因为公正的意识会产生极大的能量。这一方案还会使国家资源成倍地增加，因为财产像植物一样随着枝条的增加而增长。当一对年轻的夫妇开始闯世界的时候，他们是白手起家还是每个人手里有15英镑所造成的差异会非常大。有了这些帮助，他们可以买一头母牛以及耕种几亩地所需要的工具，从而走上成为有用之材的道路，而不是成为社会的负担（这会发生在生育孩子的速度过快而无力抚养的情况下）。如果能向开垦小块土地的人提供资助，国家的地产也会卖得更好。

所谓的文明社会的不公平的做法是，只在人们陷入贫苦的时候才提供帮助（这一做法既不能称作是慈善，也不能被认为是聪明之举）。即便是从省钱角度考虑，采取措施防止他们变贫穷不是更好吗？要这样做，最好的方法就是在人年满21岁时，让他们都能继承一些东西。

贫富两极分化说明，这个社会中有严重的弊端需要进行修正。在所有国家，大量穷人会将他们的贫困遗传给下一代，而且几乎不可能独立摆脱困境。此外应该指出的是，在所有所谓的文明国家里，这一群体的数量都在增加。每年变为贫困的人比脱贫的多。

尽管本方案的基石是公正和仁爱，利益不在考虑之中，但是如果能说明某项方案可以带来什么好处，这对于设立这项方案肯定是有好处的。任何提交公众考虑的方案能否取得成功最终都将取决于支持这一方案的人数，以及原则的公证性。

此处提议的方案将惠及所有人，而不会伤害任何人。它会加强共和国与个人间的利益联系。对于被土地财产化体制剥夺了天然继承权的很多人来说，这是一项国家正义行为。对于那些拥有中等财产的即将离世的人来说，这可以作为他们孩子的联合养老金，其收益大于投入到基金中的钱款。这将为财富积累提供一定程度的保障，这是欧洲摇摇欲坠的旧政府所不能给予的。

我认为在欧洲任何一个国家，不会有超过10％的家庭在一家之主去世时净留下500英镑。对所有家庭来说这项计划都是有利的。把财产中的50英镑投入到基金中，如果只有两个未成年的孩子，他们年满21岁时每人会收到15英镑（共计30英镑），而且还可以在50岁之后每年拿到10英镑。

基金从财富增长中获得自我支持。我知道在英国，尽管这类财产的拥有者最终会享受到对他们90％财产的保护权，但却会公开反对这一方案。姑且不去询问他们是如何得到那些财产的，先让他们回忆一下自己曾经是这场战争的支持者，皮特先生为了支持奥地利和波旁王朝专制政权反对法国争取自由的活动，每年向英国人民新征的税收比根据本计划每年需要支付的所有款项还要多。

在进行本方案的有关计算时，我把所谓的个人财产以及土地财产都计算在内。把土地财产纳入计算的原因前面已经做过解释，把个人财产纳入计算范围所依循的原则不同，但理由同样充分。如前所述，土地是我们共同的造物主免费赠予人类的礼物。个人财产是借助社会力量获得的财产。如果没有社会的帮助，个人不可能获得私人财产，也无法开垦土地。

如果将个人从社会中分离出来，让他拥有一个小岛或一个大陆，结果是他不能获得个人财产，也不可能变得富有。在所有情形中，方法与结果不可分割地联系在一起，没有前者存在就不能获得后者。因此所有个人财产的积累，是不可能仅靠个人双手创造的，都是从社会生活中得到的，那么不论是从公正、感恩还是文明的角度讲，他都应将所积累的财富中的一部分归还给社会，因为他所有的财富皆来源于此。

我们是在一个总的原则下考虑问题，而这样做的效果应该是最好的。因为如果我们仔细考察有关情况，就会发现在许多情况下，个人财产的积累是建立在给创造财产的劳动者报酬太少的基础上的。这样造成的结果是，劳动者因为年老而死亡后，雇主却依然能坐享荣华富贵。

也许我们不可能精确地计算出劳动力价格与其创造的利润之间的比例。如果打算为不公正的待遇辩护，有人可以说即使给工人增加了日工资，他们也不会存钱养老，生活状况也不会因此变得更好。那么，就让社会作为财务主管帮助他管理存放在公共基金里的钱吧。如果因为某人可能不会理财，别人就可以拿走他的钱，这样的做法是没有道理的。

总体上看，欧洲文明依循的原则是不公正的，带来的效果也是令人不快的。正是由于意识到这一点，并且担心一旦在任何国家展开调查，这样的状况便无法继续，因此财产的拥有者才害怕一切与革命有关的思想。阻碍革命发展的是革命带来的风险，而不是革命的原则。有鉴于此，建立一个不但能够预防社会中一部分人陷入贫困，而且也保护另一部分人免遭劫掠的体制，不仅是保护财产的需要，也是公正和人道的需要。

在所有国家，以前对财富迷信般的敬畏和奴隶般的尊敬正在消失，财产的拥有者处于意外事件带来的振荡之中。当财富和华丽的表象不再让大众着迷，而是引起他们反感；当它们不再激发尊敬，反而被认作是对穷困的侮辱；当其铺张的外表让人怀疑财产来源的正当性，有关财产的问题就变得很关键了。只有在公正的体制下，财产拥有者才可能获得安全感。

为了解除危险，有必要消除人们对富人的反感，而这只能通过使财富惠及国家以及每一个人的福祉才能实现。当一个人的财富超过他人时，他对国家基金的贡献也应相应地增长，当人们能够明白基金的增长要依靠个人财富的增加时，当一个人获得的财富越多对大众带来的利益也越多时，反感才会消除，财产才会建立在符合国家利益和获得保护的永久基础之上。

我在法国没有与这项计划有关的财产。我的财产都在美国，不过也没有多少。但是一旦这样的基金在法国建立起来，我要向基金捐款100英镑。一旦在英国也建立起类似的基金，我也会捐赠同样数量的款项。

如果在政府体系领域进行革命，在文明状态方面也必然会发生变革。如果一个国家的革命带来的结果是从坏变好，或从好变坏，那么那个国家所谓的文明状况也必须与其相一致，这样革命才有效果。

专制政府是建立在悲惨的文明基础之上的，其主要特点是人类思想退化，大量的人生活凄惨。这样的政府视人为动物，并且认为发挥智力不是人类特有的才能，而在法律方面，他们需要做的只能是遵守法律。【1】统治者通过让贫困摧毁人们的精神的方法来维护他们的政权，而不担心绝望会激发人们的愤怒。

针对文明状态的革命会让法国革命变得更为完善。实行代表制度的政府是真正的政府，这一观念正在全世界迅速传播开来。这一体制的合理性显而易见，其公证性甚至连反对者也能感觉到。但是当产生于那种政府体制的文明体系被组织得如此有序，以至于在共和国出生的每一个男人或女人都会继承一些财富，帮助他们在这个世界立足，并且让他们能够明确看到可以摆脱困难的前景，而在其他国家，这种困难要伴人一生，这样的法国革命将会赢得世界各国的同情和支持。

道义的军队可以打入士兵的军队所不能攻占的地方，并能够在美满的管理所不能奏效的地方获胜。莱茵河、英吉利海峡以及海洋都不能阻止它前进的步伐。这支军队可以任意纵横世界各地，无往而不胜。

实施本方案，并且让它同步
促进公共利益的方法

Ⅰ．每个行政区应通过初级议会选举推出3个人作为该行政区的委员，这些人将根据依法颁布的有关实施本方案的章程关注并且记录发生在那一行政区的所有事情。

Ⅱ．法律要对如何确定过世人的财产做出规定。

Ⅲ．在核实完过世人员的财产数量后，达到法定年龄的该财产的主要继承人或共同继承人中年龄最大的，或在他们不到法定年龄的情况下由过世之人指定的代表向行政区委员们提交书面保证书，承诺在一年或更短的时间内（由交款人选择）分四次缴清上述款项的十分之一，每次交纳的数额相同。全部财产中的一半会被留作保证金，直到承诺的数量交纳完毕。

Ⅳ．保证书要在行政区委员办公室注册，保证书原件要保存在巴黎的国家银行。银行每个季度公布其拥有的保证书数量，并发布上一季度公告发布以来保证书中的哪些已经还清或部分还清。

Ⅴ．国家银行根据所拥有的保证书金额发行银行票据。这样发行的银行票据将用于向老年人支付养老金以及向年满21岁的人员支付补偿金。可以合理推断的是，假设人们不急需这些资金，他们可以暂时不从基金中提款，直到他们获得更高的提取资格。在这种情况下，建议在每个行政区设立一个荣誉簿，登记暂停行使提款权利，至少是在目前的战争期间暂不提款的人的名字。

Ⅵ．因为财产的继承人必须在四个季度，或者他们选择的更短的时间里，兑现他们的承诺，通常在第一季度结束时就会有现金到账，兑换需要收回的银行票据。

Ⅶ．进入流通领域的银行票据，因为有超过其价值四倍的最优质的有形财产作保障，而且不断有现金进入银行，因此可以保证随时兑换，在法兰西共和国各地都具有长期价值。可以用它们来支付税款，或作为等同于现金的借款，因为政府总能够在银行把它们兑换成现金。

Ⅷ．在本方案开始实行的第一年，有必要以现金的形式收取属于那十分之一的付款。一年之后，财产继承人既可以用以基金为基础发行的银行票据，也可以用现金付款。

如果付款是以现金形式实现的，现金将作为保证金存在银行，用以兑换相同数额的票据。如果是以在基金基础上发行的票据支付，要求提现的数量会与基金数额相同。如此一来，本方案就得以顺利实施了。

注释

【1】引自霍斯利主教在英国议会上的讲话。——潘恩

Thomas Paine
Common Sense

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

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Common Sense

Introduction

Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favour; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason.

As a long and violent abuse of power, is generally the Means of calling the right of it in question (and in matters too which might never have been thought of, had not the Sufferers been aggravated into the inquiry) and as the K— of England had undertaken in his own Right, to support the Parliament in what he calls Theirs, and as the good people of this country are grievously oppressed by the combination, they have an undoubted privilege to inquire into the pretensions of both, and equally to reject the usurpation of either.

In the following sheets, the author hath studiously avoided every thing which is personal among ourselves. Compliments as well as censure to individuals make no part thereof. The wise, and the worthy, need not the triumph of a pamphlet; and those whose sentiments are injudicious, or unfriendly, will cease of themselves unless too much pains are bestowed upon their conversion.

The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind. Many circumstances hath, and will arise, which are not local, but universal, and through which the principles of all Lovers of Mankind are affected, and in the Event of which, their Affections are interested. The laying a Country desolate with Fire and Sword, declaring War against the natural rights of all Mankind, and extirpating the Defenders thereof from the Face of the Earth, is the concern of every Man to whom Nature hath given the Power of feeling; of which Class, regardless of Party Censure, is the

AUTHOR.

PS. The Publication of this new Edition hath been delayed, with a View of taking notice (had it been necessary) of any Attempt to refute the Doctrine of Independence: As no Answer hath yet appeared, it is now presumed that none will, the Time needful for getting such a Performance ready for the Public being considerably past.

Who the Author of this Production is, is wholly unnecessary to the Public, as the Object for Attention is the Doctrine itself, not the Man. Yet it may not be unnecessary to say, That he is unconnected with any Party, and under no sort of Influence public or private, but the influence of reason and principle.

Of the Origin and Design of Government in General. With Concise Remarks on the English Constitution

Some writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the latter negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a patron, the last a punisher.

Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one; for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries by a government, which we might expect in a country without government, our calamities are heightened by reflecting that we furnish the means by which we suffer. Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence; the palaces of kings are built on the ruins of the bowers of paradise. For were the impulses of conscience clear, uniform, and irresistibly obeyed, man would need no other lawgiver; but that not being the case, he finds it necessary to surrender up a part of his property to furnish means for the protection of the rest; and this he is induced to do by the same prudence which in every other case advises him out of two evils to choose the least. Wherefore, security being the true design and end of government, it unanswerably follows that whatever form thereof appears most likely to ensure it to us, with the least expense and greatest benefit, is preferable to all others.

In order to gain a clear and just idea of the design and end of government, let us suppose a small number of persons settled in some sequestered part of the earth, unconnected with the rest, they will then represent the first peopling of any country, or of the world. In this state of natural liberty, society will be their first thought. A thousand motives will excite them thereto, the strength of one man is so unequal to his wants, and his mind so unfitted for perpetual solitude, that he is soon obliged to seek assistance and relief of another, who in his turn requires the same. Four or five united would be able to raise a tolerable dwelling in the midst of a wilderness, but one man might labour out the common period of life without accomplishing any thing; when he had felled his timber he could not remove it, nor erect it after it was removed; hunger in the mean time would urge him from his work, and every different want call him a different way. Disease, nay even misfortune would be death, for though neither might be mortal, yet either would disable him from living, and reduce him to a state in which he might rather be said to perish than to die.

Thus necessity, like a gravitating power, would soon form our newly arrived emigrants into society, the reciprocal blessings of which, would supersede, and render the obligations of law and government unnecessary while they remained perfectly just to each other; but as nothing but heaven is impregnable to vice, it will unavoidably happen, that in proportion as they surmount the first difficulties of emigration, which bound them together in a common cause, they will begin to relax in their duty and attachment to each other; and this remissness, will point out the necessity, of establishing some form of government to supply the defect of moral virtue.

Some convenient tree will afford them a State-House, under the branches of which, the whole colony may assemble to deliberate on public matters. It is more than probable that their first laws will have the title only of REGULATIONS, and be enforced by no other penalty than public disesteem. In this first parliament every man, by natural right will have a seat.

But as the colony increases, the public concerns will increase likewise, and the distance at which the members may be separated, will render it too inconvenient for all of them to meet on every occasion as at first, when their number was small, their habitations near, and the public concerns few and trifling. This will point out the convenience of their consenting to leave the legislative part to be managed by a select number chosen from the whole body, who are supposed to have the same concerns at stake which those have who appointed them, and who will act in the same manner as the whole body would act were they present. If the colony continue increasing, it will become necessary to augment the number of the representatives, and that the interest of every part of the colony may be attended to, it will be found best to divide the whole into convenient parts, each part sending its proper number; and that the elected might never form to themselves an interest separate from the electors, prudence will point out the propriety of having elections often; because as the elected might by that means return and mix again with the general body of the electors in a few months, their fidelity to the public will be secured by the prudent reflection of not making a rod for themselves. And as this frequent interchange will establish a common interest with every part of the community, they will mutually and naturally support each other, and on this (not on the unmeaning name of king) depends the strength of government, and the happiness of the governed.

Here then is the origin and rise of government; namely, a mode rendered necessary by the inability of moral virtue to govern the world; here too is the design and end of government, viz. freedom and security. And however our eyes may be dazzled with snow, or our ears deceived by sound; however prejudice may warp our wills, or interest darken our understanding, the simple voice of nature and of reason will say, it is right.

I draw my idea of the form of government from a principle in nature, which no art can overturn, viz. that the more simple any thing is, the less liable it is to be disordered, and the easier repaired when disordered; and with this maxim in view, I offer a few remarks on the so much boasted constitution of England. That it was noble for the dark and slavish times in which it was erected is granted. When the world was overrun with tyranny the least remove therefrom was a glorious rescue. But that it is imperfect, subject to convulsions, and incapable of producing what it seems to promise, is easily demonstrated.

Absolute governments (tho' the disgrace of human nature) have this advantage with them, that they are simple; if the people suffer, they know the head from which their suffering springs, know likewise the remedy, and are not bewildered by a variety of causes and cures. But the constitution of England is so exceedingly complex, that the nation may suffer for years together without being able to discover in which part the fault lies, some will say in one and some in another, and every political physician will advise a different medicine.

I know it is difficult to get over local or long standing prejudices, yet if we will suffer ourselves to examine the component parts of the English constitution, we shall find them to be the base remains of two ancient tyrannies, compounded with some new republican materials.

First. — The remains of monarchical tyranny in the person of the king.

Secondly. — The remains of aristocratical tyranny in the persons of the peers.

Thirdly. — The new republican materials, in the persons of the commons, on whose virtue depends the freedom of England.

The two first, by being hereditary, are independent of the people; wherefore in a constitutional sense they contribute nothing towards the freedom of the state.

To say that the constitution of England is a union of three powers reciprocally checking each other, is farcical, either the words have no meaning, or they are flat contradictions.

To say that the commons is a check upon the king, presupposes two things.

First. — That the king is not to be trusted without being looked after, or in other words, that a thirst for absolute power is the natural disease of monarchy.

Secondly. — That the commons, by being appointed for that purpose, are either wiser or more worthy of confidence than the crown.

But as the same constitution which gives the commons a power to check the king by withholding the supplies, gives afterwards the king a power to check the commons, by empowering him to reject their other bills; it again supposes that the king is wiser than those whom it has already supposed to be wiser than him. A mere absurdity!

There is something exceedingly ridiculous in the composition of monarchy; it first excludes a man from the means of information, yet empowers him to act in cases where the highest judgement is required. The state of a king shuts him from the world, yet the business of a king requires him to know it thoroughly; wherefore the different parts, unnaturally opposing and destroying each other, prove the whole character to be absurd and useless.

Some writers have explained the English constitution thus; the king, say they, is one, the people another; the peers are an house in behalf of the king; the commons in behalf of the people; but this hath all the distinctions of an house divided against itself; and though the expressions be pleasantly arranged, yet when examined they appear idle and ambiguous; and it will always happen, that the nicest construction that words are capable of, when applied to the description of some thing which either cannot exist, or is too incomprehensible to be within the compass of description, will be words of sound only, and though they may amuse the ear, they cannot inform the mind, for this explanation includes a previous question, viz. How came the king by a power which the people are afraid to trust, and always obliged to check? Such a power could not be the gift of a wise people, neither can any power, which needs checking, be from God; yet the provision, which the constitution makes, supposes such a power to exist.

But the provision is unequal to the task; the means either cannot or will not accomplish the end, and the whole affair is a felo de se; for as the greater weight will always carry up the less, and as all the wheels of a machine are put in motion by one, it only remains to know which power in the constitution has the most weight, for that will govern; and though the others, or a part of them, may clog, or, as the phrase is, check the rapidity of its motion, yet so long as they cannot stop it, their endeavours will be ineffectual; the first moving power will at last have its way, and what it wants in speed is supplied by time.

That the crown is this overbearing part in the English constitution needs not be mentioned, and that it derives its whole consequence merely from being the giver of places and pensions is self-evident, wherefore, though we have been wise enough to shut and lock a door against absolute monarchy, we at the same time have been foolish enough to put the crown in possession of the key.

The prejudice of Englishmen, in favour of their own government by king, lords, and commons, arises as much or more from national pride than reason. Individuals are undoubtedly safer in England than in some other countries, but the will of the king is as much the LAW of the land in Britain as in France, with this difference, that instead of proceeding directly from his mouth, it is handed to the people under the most formidable shape of an act of parliament. For the fate of Charles the First, hath only made kings more subtle — not more just.

Wherefore, laying aside all national pride and prejudice in favour of modes and forms, the plain truth is, that it is wholly owing to the constitution of the people, and not to the constitution of the government that the crown is not as oppressive in England as in Turkey.

An inquiry into the constitutional errors in the English form of government is at this time highly necessary; for as we are never in a proper condition of doing justice to others, while we continue under the influence of some leading partiality, so neither are we capable of doing it to ourselves while we remain fettered by any obstinate prejudice. And as a man, who is attached to a prostitute, is unfitted to choose or judge of a wife, so any prepossession in favour of a rotten constitution of government will disable us from discerning a good one.

Of Monarchy and Hereditary Succession

Mankind being originally equals in the order of creation, the equality could only be destroyed by some subsequent circumstance; the distinctions of rich, and poor, may in a great measure be accounted for, and that without having recourse to the harsh, ill-sounding names of oppression and avarice. Oppression is often the consequence, but seldom or never the means of riches; and though avarice will preserve a man from being necessitously poor, it generally makes him too timorous to be wealthy.

But there is another and greater distinction for which no truly natural or religious reason can be assigned, and that is, the distinction of men into KINGS and SUBJECTS. Male and female are the distinctions of nature, good and bad the distinctions of heaven; but how a race of men came into the world so exalted above the rest, and distinguished like some new species, is worth inquiring into, and whether they are the means of happiness or of misery to mankind.

In the early ages of the world, according to the scripture chronology, there were no kings; the consequence of which was there were no wars; it is the pride of kings which throws mankind into confusion. Holland without a king hath enjoyed more peace for this last century than any of the monarchial governments in Europe. Antiquity favours the same remark; for the quiet and rural lives of the first patriarchs hath a happy something in them, which vanishes away when we come to the history of Jewish royalty.

Government by kings was first introduced into the world by the Heathens, from whom the children of Israel copied the custom. It was the most prosperous invention the Devil ever set on foot for the promotion of idolatry. The Heathens paid divine honours to their deceased kings, and the Christian world hath improved on the plan by doing the same to their living ones. How impious is the title of sacred majesty applied to a worm, who in the midst of his splendour is crumbling into dust.

As the exalting one man so greatly above the rest cannot be justified on the equal rights of nature, so neither can it be defended on the authority of scripture; for the will of the Almighty, as declared by Gideon and the prophet Samuel, expressly disapproves of government by kings. All anti-monarchial parts of scripture have been very smoothly glossed over in monarchial governments, but they undoubtedly merit the attention of countries which have their governments yet to form. 'Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's' is the scriptural doctrine of courts, yet it is no support of monarchial government, for the Jews at that time were without a king, and in a state of vassalage to the Romans.

Near three thousand years passed away from the Mosaic account of the creation, till the Jews under a national delusion requested a king. Till then their form of government (except in extraordinary cases, where the Almighty interposed) was a kind of republic administered by a judge and the elders of the tribes. Kings they had none, and it was held sinful to acknowledge any being under that title but the Lord of Hosts. And when a man seriously reflects on the idolatrous homage which is paid to the persons of kings, he need not wonder, that the Almighty, ever jealous of his honour, should disapprove of a form of government which so impiously invades the prerogative of heaven.

Monarchy is ranked in scripture as one of the sins of the Jews, for which a curse in reserve is denounced against them. The history of that transaction is worth attending to.

The children of Israel being oppressed by the Midianites, Gideon marched against them with a small army, and victory, thro' the divine interposition, decided in his favour. The Jews, elate with success, and attributing it to the generalship of Gideon, proposed making him a king, saying, Rule thou over us, thou and thy son and thy son's son. Here was temptation in its fullest extent; not a kingdom only, but an hereditary one, but Gideon in the piety of his soul replied, I will not rule over you, neither shall my son rule over you, THE LORD SHALL RULE OVER You. Words need not be more explicit; Gideon doth not decline the honour but denieth their right to give it; neither doth he compliment them with invented declarations of his thanks, but in the positive style of a prophet charges them with disaffection to their proper sovereign, the King of Heaven.

About one hundred and thirty years after this, they fell again into the same error. The hankering which the Jews had for the idolatrous customs of the Heathens, is something exceedingly unaccountable; but so it was, that laying hold of the misconduct of Samuel's two sons, who were entrusted with some secular concerns, they came in an abrupt and clamorous manner to Samuel, saying, Behold thou art old, and thy sons walk not in thy ways, now make us a king to judge us like all the other nations. And here we cannot but observe that their motives were bad, viz. that they might be like unto other nations, i.e. the Heathens, whereas their true glory laid in being as much unlike them as possible. But the thing displeased Samuel when they said, give us a king to judge us; and Samuel prayed unto the Lord, and the Lord said unto Samuel, Hearken unto the voice of the people in all that they say unto thee, for they have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, THAT I SHOULD NOT REIGN OVER THEM. According to all the works which they have done since the day that I brought them up out of Egypt, even unto this day; wherewith they have forsaken me and served other Gods; so do they also unto thee. Now therefore hearken unto their voice, howbeit, protest solemnly unto them and shew them the manner of the king that shall reign over them, i.e. not of any particular king, but the general manner of the kings of the earth, whom Israel was so eagerly copying after. And notwithstanding the great distance of time and difference of manners, the character is still in fashion, And Samuel told all the words of the Lord unto the people, that asked of him a king. And he said, This shall be the manner of the king that shall reign over you; he will take your sons and appoint them for himself for his chariots, and to be his horsemen, and some shall run before his chariots (this description agrees with the present mode of impressing men) and he will appoint him captains over thousands and captains over fifties, and will set them to ear his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and instruments of his chariots; and he will take your daughters to be confectionaries and to be cooks and to be bakers (this describes the expense and luxury as well as the oppression of kings) and he will take your fields and your olive yards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants; and he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give them to his officers and to his servants (by which we see that bribery, corruption, and favouritism are the standing vices of kings) and he will take the tenth of your men servants, and your maid servants, and your goodliest young men and your asses, and put them to his work; and he will take the tenth of your sheep, and ye shall be his servants, and ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have chosen, AND THE LORD WILL NOT HEAR YOU IN THAT DAY. This accounts for the continuation of monarchy; neither do the characters of the few good kings which have lived since, either sanctify the title, or blot out the sinfulness of the origin; the high encomium given of David takes no notice of him officially as a king, but only as a man after God's own heart. Nevertheless the People refused to obey the voice of Samuel, and they said, Nay, but we will have a king over us, that we may be like all the nations, and that our king may judge us, and go out before us and fight our battles. Samuel continued to reason with them, but to no purpose; he set before them their ingratitude, but all would not avail; and seeing them fully bent on their folly, he cried out, I will call unto the Lord, and he shall send thunder and rain (which then was a punishment, being the time of wheat harvest) that ye may perceive and see that your wickedness is great which ye have done in the sight of the Lord, IN ASKING YOU A KING. So Samuel called unto the Lord, and the Lord sent thunder and rain that day, and all the people greatly feared the Lord and Samuel. And all the people said unto Samuel, Pray for thy servants unto the Lord thy God that we die not, for WE HAVE ADDED UNTO OUR SINS THIS EVIL, TO ASK A KING. These portions of scripture are direct and positive. They admit of no equivocal construction. That the Almighty hath here entered his protest against monarchial government is true, or the scripture is false. And a man hath good reason to believe that there is as much of king-craft, as priest-craft in withholding the scripture from the public in Popish countries. For monarchy in every instance is the Popery of government.

To the evil of monarchy we have added that of hereditary succession; and as the first is a degradation and lessening of ourselves, so the second, claimed as a matter of right, is an insult and an imposition on posterity. For all men being originally equals, no one by birth could have a right to set up his own family in perpetual preference to all others for ever, and though himself might deserve some decent degree of honours of his contemporaries, yet his descendants might be far too unworthy to inherit them. One of the strongest natural proofs of the folly of hereditary right in kings, is, that nature disapproves it, otherwise she would not so frequently turn it into ridicule by giving mankind an ass for a lion.

Secondly, as no man at first could possess any other public honours than were bestowed upon him, so the givers of those honours could have no power to give away the right of posterity, and though they might say 'We choose you for our head', they could not, without manifest injustice to their children, say 'that your children and your children's children shall reign over ours for ever'. Because such an unwise, unjust, unnatural compact might (perhaps) in the next succession put them under the government of a rogue or a fool. Most wise men, in their private sentiments, have ever treated hereditary right with contempt; yet it is one of those evils, which when once established is not easily removed; many submit from fear, others from superstition, and the more powerful part shares with the king the plunder of the rest.

This is supposing the present race of the kings in the world to have had an honourable origin; whereas it is more than probable, that could we take off the dark covering of antiquity, and trace them to their first rise, that we should find the first of them nothing better than the principal ruffian of some restless gang, whose savage manners or pre-eminence in subtlety obtained him the title of chief among plunderers; and who by increasing in power, and extending his depredations, over-awed the quiet and defenceless to purchase their safety by frequent contributions. Yet his electors could have no idea of giving hereditary right to his descendants, because such a perpetual exclusion of themselves was incompatible with the free and unrestrained principles they professed to live by. Wherefore, hereditary succession in the early ages of monarchy could not take place as a matter of claim, but as something casual or complimental; but as few or no records were extant in those days, and traditionary history stuffed with fables, it was very easy, after the lapse of a few generations, to trump up some superstitious tale, conveniently timed, Mahomet like, to cram hereditary right down the throats of the vulgar. Perhaps the disorders which threatened, or seemed to threaten on the decease of a leader and the choice of a new one (for elections among ruffians could not be very orderly) induced many at first to favour hereditary pretensions; by which means it happened, as it hath happened since, that what at first was submitted to as a convenience, was afterwards claimed as a right.

England, since the conquest, hath known some few good monarchs, but groaned beneath a much larger number of bad ones, yet no man in his senses can say that their claim under William the Conqueror is a very honourable one. A French bastard landing with an armed banditti, and establishing himself king of England against the consent of the natives, is in plain terms a very paltry rascally original. — It certainly hath no divinity in it. However, it is needless to spend much time in exposing the folly of hereditary right, if there are any so weak as to believe it, let them promiscuously worship the ass and lion, and welcome. I shall neither copy their humility, nor disturb their devotion.

Yet I should be glad to ask how they suppose kings came at first? The question admits but of three answers, viz. either by lot, by election, or by usurpation. If the first king was taken by lot, it establishes a precedent for the next, which excludes hereditary succession. Saul was by lot yet the succession was not hereditary, neither does it appear from that transaction there was any intention it ever should. If the first king of any country was by election, that likewise establishes a precedent for the next; for to say, that the right of all future generations is taken away, by the act of the first electors, in their choice not only of a king, but of a family of kings for ever, hath no parallel in or out of scripture but the doctrine of original sin, which supposes the free will of all men lost in Adam; and from such comparison, and it will admit of no other, hereditary succession can derive no glory. For as in Adam all sinned, and as in the first electors all men obeyed; as in the one all mankind were subjected to Satan, and in the other to Sovereignty; as our innocence was lost in the first, and our authority in the last; and as both disable us from re-assuming some former state and privilege, it unanswerably follows that original sin and hereditary succession are parallels. Dishonourable rank! Inglorious connection! Yet the most subtle sophist cannot produce a juster simile.

As to usurpation, no man will be so hardy as to defend it; and that William the Conqueror was an usurper is a fact not to be contradicted. The plain truth is, that the antiquity of English monarchy will not bear looking into.

But it is not so much the absurdity as the evil of hereditary succession which concerns mankind. Did it ensure a race of good and wise men it would have the seal of divine authority, but as it opens a door to the foolish, the wicked, and the improper, it hath in it the nature of oppression. Men who look upon themselves born to reign, and others to obey, soon grow insolent; selected from the rest of mankind their minds are early poisoned by importance; and the world they act in differs so materially from the world at large, that they have but little opportunity of knowing its true interests, and when they succeed to the government are frequently the most ignorant and unfit of any throughout the dominions.

Another evil which attends hereditary succession is, that the throne is subject to be possessed by a minor at any age; all which time the regency, acting under the cover of a king, have every opportunity and inducement to betray their trust. The same national misfortune happens, when a king worn out with age and infirmity, enters the last stage of human weakness. In both these cases the public becomes a prey to every miscreant, who can tamper successfully with the follies either of age or infancy.

The most plausible plea, which hath ever been offered in favour of hereditary succession, is, that it preserves a nation from civil wars; and were this true, it would be weighty; whereas, it is the most barefaced falsity ever imposed upon mankind. The whole history of England disowns the fact. Thirty kings and two minors have reigned in that distracted kingdom since the conquest, in which time there have been (including the Revolution) no less than eight civil wars and nineteen rebellions. Wherefore instead of making for peace, it makes against it, and destroys the very foundation it seems to stand on.

The contest for monarchy and succession, between the houses of York and Lancaster, laid England in a scene of blood for many years. Twelve pitched battles, besides skirmishes and sieges, were fought between Henry and Edward. Twice was Henry prisoner to Edward, who in his turn was prisoner to Henry. And so uncertain is the fate of war and the temper of a nation, when nothing but personal matters are the ground of a quarrel, that Henry was taken in triumph from a prison to a palace, and Edward obliged to fly from a palace to a foreign land; yet, as sudden transitions of temper are seldom lasting, Henry in his turn was driven from the throne, and Edward recalled to succeed him. The parliament always following the strongest side.

This contest began in the reign of Henry the Sixth, and was not entirely extinguished till Henry the Seventh, in whom the families were united. Including a period of 67 years, viz. from 1422 to 1489.

In short, monarchy and succession have laid (not this or that kingdom only) but the world in blood and ashes. 'Tis a form of government which the word of God bears testimony against, and blood will attend it.

If we inquire into the business of a king, we shall find that in some countries they have none; and after sauntering away their lives without pleasure to themselves or advantage to the nation, withdraw from the scene, and leave their successors to tread the same idle round. In absolute monarchies the whole weight of business civil and military, lies on the king; the children of Israel in their request for a king, urged this plea 'that he may judge us, and go out before us and fight our battles'. But in countries where he is neither a judge nor a general, as in E—d, a man would be puzzled to know what is his business.

The nearer any government approaches to a republic the less business there is for a king. It is somewhat difficult to find a proper name for the government of E—. Sir William Meredith calls it a republic; but in its present state it is unworthy of the name, because the corrupt influence of the crown, by having all the places in its disposal, hath so effectually swallowed up the power, and eaten out the virtue of the house of commons (the republican part in the constitution) that the government of England is nearly as monarchical as that of France or Spain. Men fall out with names without understanding them. For it is the republican and not the monarchical part of the constitution of England which Englishmen glory in, viz. the liberty of choosing an house of commons from out of their own body — and it is easy to see that when the republican virtue fails, slavery ensues. Why is the constitution of E—d sickly, but because monarchy hath poisoned the republic, the crown bath engrossed the commons?

In England a k— hath little more to do than to make war and give away places; which in plain terms, is to impoverish the nation and set it together by the ears. A pretty business indeed for a man to be allowed eight hundred thousand sterling a year for, and worshipped into the bargain! Of more worth is one honest man to society, and in the sight of God, than all the crowned ruffians that ever lived.

Thoughts on the Present State of American Affairs

In the following pages I offer nothing more than simple facts, plain arguments, and common sense; and have no other preliminaries to settle with the reader, than that he will divest himself of prejudice and prepossession, and suffer his reason and his feelings to determine for themselves; that he will put on, or rather that he will not put off, the true character of a man, and generously enlarge his views beyond the present day.

Volumes have been written on the subject of the struggle between England and America. Men of all ranks have embarked in the controversy, from different motives, and with various designs; but all have been ineffectual, and the period of debate is closed. Arms, as the last resource, decide the contest; the appeal was the choice of the king, and the continent hath accepted the challenge.

It hath been reported of the late Mr Pelham (who tho' an able minister was not without his faults) that on his being attacked in the house of commons, on the score, that his measures were only of a temporary kind, replied, 'They will last my time.' Should a thought so fatal and unmanly possess the colonies in the present contest, the name of ancestors will be remembered by future generations with detestation.

The sun never shined on a cause of greater worth. 'Tis not the affair of a city, a country, a province, or a kingdom, but of a continent — of at least one eighth part of the habitable globe. 'Tis not the concern of a day, a year, or an age; posterity are virtually involved in the contest, and will be more or less affected, even to the end of time, by the proceedings now. Now is the seed time of continental union, faith and honour. The least fracture now will be like a name engraved with the point of a pin on the tender rind of a young oak; the wound will enlarge with the tree, and posterity read it in full grown characters.

By referring the matter from argument to arms, a new era for politics is struck; a new method of thinking hath arisen. All plans, proposals, &c. prior to the nineteenth of April, i.e. to the commencement of hostilities, are like the almanacs of the last year; which, though proper then, are superseded and useless now. Whatever was advanced by the advocates on either side of the question then, terminated in one and the same point, viz. a union with Great Britain; the only difference between the parties was the method of effecting it; the one proposing force, the other friendship; but it hath so far happened that the first hath failed, and the second hath withdrawn her influence.

As much hath been said of the advantages of reconciliation, which, like an agreeable dream, hath passed away and left us as we were, it is but right, that we should examine the contrary side of the argument, and inquire into some of the many material injuries which these colonies sustain, and always will sustain, by being connected with, and dependent on Great Britain. To examine that connection and dependence, on the principles of nature and common sense, to see what we have to trust to, if separated, and what we are to expect, if dependent.

I have heard it asserted by some, that as America hath flourished under her former connection with Great Britain, that the same connection is necessary towards her future happiness, and will always have the same effect. Nothing can be more fallacious than this kind of argument. We may as well assert, that because a child has thrived upon milk, that it is never to have meat; or that the first twenty years of our lives is to become a precedent for the next twenty. But even this is admitting more than is true, for I answer roundly, that America would have flourished as much, and probably much more, had no European power had any thing to do with her. The commerce by which she hath enriched herself are the necessaries of life, and will always have a market while eating is the custom of Europe.

But she has protected us, say some. That she hath engrossed us is true, and defended the continent at our expense as well as her own is admitted, and she would have defended Turkey from the same motive, viz. the sake of trade and dominion.

Alas, we have been long led away by ancient prejudices, and made large sacrifices to superstition. We have boasted the protection of Great Britain, without considering, that her motive was interest not attachment; that she did not protect us from our enemies on our account, but from her enemies on her own account, from those who had no quarrel with us on any other account, and who will always be our enemies on the same account. Let Britain waive her pretensions to the continent, or the continent throw off the dependence, and we should be at peace with France and Spain were they at war with Britain. The miseries of Hanover last war ought to warn us against connections.

It hath lately been asserted in parliament, that the colonies have no relation to each other but through the parent country, i.e. that Pennsylvania and the Jerseys, and so on for the rest, are sister colonies by the way of England; this is certainly a very roundabout way of proving relationship, but it is the nearest and only true way of proving enemyship, if I may so call it. France and Spain never were, nor perhaps ever will be our enemies as Americans, but as our being the subjects of Great Britain.

But Britain is the parent country, say some. Then the more shame upon her conduct. Even brutes do not devour their young, nor savages make war upon their families; wherefore the assertion, if true, turns to her reproach; but it happens not to be true, or only partly so, and the phrase parent or mother country hath been Jesuitically adopted by the — and his parasites, with a low papistical design of gaining an unfair bias on the credulous weakness of our minds. Europe, and not England, is the parent country of America. This new world hath been the asylum for the persecuted lovers of civil and religious liberty from every part of Europe. Hither have they fled, not from the tender embraces of the mother, but from the cruelty of the monster; and it is so far true of England, that the same tyranny which drove the first emigrants from home, pursues their descendants still.

In this extensive quarter of the globe, we forget the narrow limits of three hundred and sixty miles (the extent of England) and carry our friendship on a larger scale; we claim brotherhood with every European Christian, and triumph in the generosity of the sentiment.

It is pleasant to observe by what regular gradations we surmount the force of local prejudice, as we enlarge our acquaintance with the world. A man born in any town in England divided into parishes, will naturally associate most with his fellow parishioners (because their interests in many cases will be common) and distinguish him by the name of neighbour; if he meet him but a few miles from home, he drops the narrow idea of a street, and salutes him by the name of townsman; if he travels out of the county, and meet him in any other, he forgets the minor divisions of street and town, and calls him countryman, i.e. countyman; but if in their foreign excursions they should associate in France or any other part of Europe, their local remembrance would be enlarged into that of Englishmen. And by a just parity of reasoning, all Europeans meeting in America, or any other quarter of the globe, are countrymen; for England, Holland, Germany, or Sweden, when compared with the whole, stand in the same places on the larger scale, which the divisions of street, town, and county do on the smaller ones; distinctions too limited for continental minds. Not one third of the inhabitants, even of this province, are of English descent. Wherefore I reprobate the phrase of parent or mother country applied to England only, as being false, selfish, narrow and ungenerous.

But admitting that we were all of English descent, what does it amount to? Nothing. Britain, being now an open enemy, extinguishes every other name and title: And to say that reconciliation is our duty, is truly farcical. The first king of England, of the present line (William the Conqueror) was a Frenchman, and half the peers of England are descendants from the same country; wherefore by the same method of reasoning, England ought to be governed by France.

Much hath been said of the united strength of Britain and the colonies, that in conjunction they might bid defiance to the world. But this is mere presumption; the fate of war is uncertain, neither do the expressions mean any thing; for this continent would never suffer itself to be drained of inhabitants to support the British arms in either Asia, Africa, or Europe.

Besides, what have we to do with setting the world at defiance? Our plan is commerce, and that, well attended to, will secure us the peace and friendship of all Europe; because it is the interest of all Europe to have America a free port. Her trade will always be a protection, and her barrenness of gold and silver secure her from invaders.

I challenge the warmest advocate for reconciliation, to shew, a single advantage that this continent can reap, by being connected with Great Britain. I repeat the challenge, not a single advantage is derived. Our corn will fetch its price in any market in Europe, and our imported goods must be paid for buy them where we will.

But the injuries and disadvantages we sustain by that connection, are without number; and our duty to mankind at large, as well as to ourselves, instruct us to renounce the alliance: Because, any submission to, or dependence on Great Britain, tends directly to involve this continent in European wars and quarrels; and sets us at variance with nations, who would otherwise seek our friendship, and against whom, we have neither anger nor complaint. As Europe is our market for trade, we ought to form no partial connection with any part of it. It is the true interest of America to steer clear of European contentions, which she never can do, while by her dependence on Britain, she is made the make-weight in the scale of British politics.

Europe is too thickly planted with kingdoms to be long at peace, and whenever a war breaks out between England and any foreign power, the trade of America goes to ruin, because of her connection with Britain. The next war may not turn out like the last, and should it not, the advocates for reconciliation now will be wishing for separation then, because, neutrality in that case, would be a safer convoy than a man of war. Every thing that is right or natural pleads for separation. The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, 'TIS TIME TO PART. Even the distance at which the Almighty hath placed England and America, is a strong and natural proof, that the authority of the one, over the other, was never the design of Heaven. The time likewise at which the continent was discovered, adds weight to the argument, and the manner in which it was peopled encreases the force of it. The reformation was preceded by the discovery of America, as if the Almighty graciously meant to open a sanctuary to the persecuted in future years, when home should afford neither friendship nor safety.

The authority of Great Britain over this continent, is a form of government, which sooner or later must have an end: And a serious mind can draw no true pleasure by looking forward, under the painful and positive conviction, that what he calls 'the present constitution' is merely temporary. As parents, we can have no joy, knowing that this government is not sufficiently lasting to ensure any thing which we may bequeath to posterity: And by a plain method of argument, as we are running the next generation into debt, we ought to do the work of it, otherwise we use them meanly and pitifully. In order to discover the line of our duty rightly, we should take our children in our hand, and fix our station a few years farther into life; that eminence will present a prospect, which a few present fears and prejudices conceal from our sight.

Though I would carefully avoid giving unnecessary offence, yet I am inclined to believe, that all those who espouse the doctrine of reconciliation, may be included within the following descriptions. Interested men, who are not to be trusted; weak men who cannot see; prejudiced men who will not see; and a certain set of moderate men, who think better of the European world than it deserves; and this last class by an ill-judged deliberation, will be the cause of more calamities to this continent than all the other three.

It is the good fortune of many to live distant from the scene of sorrow; the evil is not sufficiently brought to their doors to make them feel the precariousness with which all American property is possessed. But let our imaginations transport us for a few moments to Boston, that seat of wretchedness will teach us wisdom, and instruct us for ever to renounce a power in whom we can have no trust. The inhabitants of that unfortunate city, who but a few months ago were in ease and affluence, have now no other alternative than to stay and starve, or turn out to beg. Endangered by the fire of their friends if they continue within the city, and plundered by the soldiery if they leave it. In their present condition they are prisoners without the hope of redemption, and in a general attack for their relief, they would be exposed to the fury of both armies.

Men of passive tempers look somewhat lightly over the offences of Britain, and, still hoping for the best, are apt to call out, 'Come we shall be friends again for all this.' But examine the passions and feelings of mankind. Bring the doctrine of reconciliation to the touchstone of nature, and then tell me, whether you can hereafter love, honour, and faithfully serve the power that hath carried fire and sword into your land? If you cannot do all these, then are you only deceiving yourselves, and by your delay bringing ruin upon posterity. Your future connection with Britain, whom you can neither love nor honour, will be forced and unnatural, and being formed only on the plan of present convenience, will in a little time fall into a relapse more wretched than the first. But if you say, you can still pass the violations over, then I ask, Hath your house been burnt? Hath your property been destroyed before your face? Are your wife and children destitute of a bed to lie on, or bread to live on? Have you lost a parent or a child by their hands, and yourself the ruined and wretched survivor? If you have not, then are you not a judge of those who have. But if you have, and can still shake hands with the murderers, then are you unworthy the name of husband, father, friend, or lover, and whatever may be your rank or title in life, you have the heart of a coward, and the spirit of a sycophant.

This is not inflaming or exaggerating matters, but trying them by those feelings and affections which nature justifies, and without which, we should be incapable of discharging the social duties of life, or enjoying the felicities of it. I mean not to exhibit horror for the purpose of provoking revenge, but to awaken us from fatal and unmanly slumbers, that we may pursue determinately some fixed object. It is not in the power of Britain or of Europe to conquer America, if she did not conquer herself by delay and timidity. The present winter is worth an age if rightly employed, but if lost or neglected, the whole continent will partake of the misfortune; and there is no punishment which that man will not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful.

It is repugnant to reason, to the universal order of things, to all examples from the former ages, to suppose, that this continent can longer remain subject to any external power. The most sanguine in Britain does not think so. The utmost stretch of human wisdom cannot, at this time compass a plan short of separation, which can promise the continent even a year's security. Reconciliation is and was a falacious dream. Nature hath deserted the connection, and Art cannot supply her place. For, as Milton wisely expressed, 'Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.'

Every quiet method for peace hath been ineffectual. Our prayers have been rejected with disdain; and only tended to convince us, that nothing flatters vanity, or confirms obstinacy in kings more than repeated petitioning — and nothing hath contributed more than that very measure to make the kings of Europe absolute: Witness Denmark and Sweden. Wherefore since nothing but blows will do, for God's sake, let us come to a final separation, and not leave the next generation to be cutting throats, under the violated unmeaning names of parent and child.

To say, they will never attempt it again is idle and visionary, we thought so at the repeal of the Stamp Act, yet a year or two undeceived us; as well may we suppose that nations, which have been once defeated, will never renew the quarrel.

As to government matters, it is not in the power of Britain to do this continent justice: The business of it will soon be too weighty, and intricate, to be managed with any tolerable degree of convenience, by a power, so distant from us, and so very ignorant of us; for if they cannot conquer us, they cannot govern us. To be always running three or four thousand miles with a tale or a petition, waiting four or five months for an answer, which when obtained requires five or six more to explain it in, will in a few years be looked upon as folly and childishness — There was a time when it was proper, and there is a proper time for it to cease.

Small islands not capable of protecting themselves, are the proper objects for kingdoms to take under their care; but there is something very absurd, in supposing a continent to be perpetually governed by an island. In no instance hath nature made the satellite larger than its primary planet, and as England and America, with respect to each other, reverses the common order of nature, it is evident they belong to different systems: England to Europe, America to itself.

I am not induced by motives of pride, party, or resentment to espouse the doctrine of separation and independence; I am clearly, positively, and conscientiously persuaded that it is the true interest of this continent to be so; that every thing short of that is mere patchwork, that it can afford no lasting felicity,－ that it is leaving the sword to our children, and shrinking back at a time, when, a little more, a little farther, would have rendered this continent the glory of the earth.

As Britain hath not manifested the least inclination towards a compromise, we may be assured that no terms can be obtained worthy the acceptance of the continent, or any ways equal to the expense of blood and treasure we have been already put to.

The object contended for, ought always to bear some just proportion to the expense. The removal of N—, or the whole detestable junto, is a matter unworthy the millions we have expended. A temporary stoppage of trade, was an inconvenience, which would have sufficiently balanced the repeal of all the acts complained of, had such repeals been obtained; but if the whole continent must take up arms, if every man must be a soldier, it is scarcely worth our while to fight against a contemptible ministry only. Dearly, dearly, do we pay for the repeal of the acts, if that is all we fight for; for in a just estimation, it is as great a folly to pay a Bunker-hill price for law, as for land. As I have always considered the independency of this continent, as an event, which sooner or later must arrive, so from the late rapid progress of the continent to maturity, the event could not be far off. Wherefore, on the breaking out of hostilities, it was not worth the while to have disputed a matter, which time would have finally redressed, unless we meant to be in earnest; otherwise, it is like wasting an estate on a suit at law, to regulate the trespasses of a tenant, whose lease is just expiring. No man was a warmer wisher for reconciliation than myself, before the fatal nineteenth of April 1775,【1】 but the moment the event of that day was made known, I rejected the hardened, sullen tempered Pharaoh of — for ever; and disdain the wretch, that with the pretended title of FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE can unfeelingly hear of their slaughter, and composedly sleep with their blood upon his soul.

But admitting that matters were now made up, what would be the event? I answer, the ruin of the continent. And that for several reasons.

First. The powers of governing still remaining in the hands of the k—, he will have a negative over the whole legislation of this continent. And as he hath shewn himself such an inveterate enemy to liberty, and discovered such a thirst for arbitrary power; is he, or is he not, a proper man to say to these colonies, 'You shall make no laws but what I please.' And is there any inhabitant in America so ignorant, as not to know, that according to what is called the present constitution, that this continent can make no laws but what the king gives leave to; and is there any man so unwise, as not to see, that (considering what has happened) he will suffer no Law to be made here, but such as suit his purpose. We may be as effectually enslaved by the want of laws in America, as by submitting to laws made for us in England. After matters are made up (as it is called) can there be any doubt but the whole power of the crown will be exerted, to keep this continent as low and humble as possible? Instead of going forward we shall go backward, or be perpetually quarrelling or ridiculously petitioning. — We are already greater than the king wishes us to be, and will he not hereafter endeavour to make us less? To bring the matter to one point. Is the power who is jealous of our prosperity, a proper power to govern us? Whoever says No to this question is an independent, for independency means no more, than, whether we shall make our own laws, or, whether the —, the greatest enemy this continent hath, or can have, shall tell us 'There shall be no laws but such as I like.'

But the k— you will say has a negative in England; the people there can make no laws without his consent. In point of right and good order, there is something very ridiculous, that a youth of twenty-one (which hath often happened) shall say to several millions of people, older and wiser than himself, I forbid this or that act of yours to be law. But in this place I decline this sort of reply, tho' I will never cease to expose the absurdity of it, and only answer, that England being the king's residence, and America not so, makes quite another case. The k—'s negative here is ten times more dangerous and fatal than it can be in England, for there he will scarcely refuse his consent to a bill for putting England into as strong a state of defence as possible, and in America he would never suffer such a bill to be passed.

America is only a secondary object in the system of British politics. England consults the good of this country, no farther than it answers her own purpose. Wherefore, her own interest leads her to suppress the growth of ours in every case which doth not promote her advantage, or in the least interfere with it. A pretty stage we should soon be in under such a second-hand government, considering what has happened! Men do not change from enemies to friends by the alteration of a name: And in order to shew that reconciliation now is a dangerous doctrine, I affirm, that it would be policy in the k— at this time, to repeal the acts for the sake of reinstating himself in the government of the provinces; in order, that HE MAY ACCOMPLISH BY CRAFT AND SUBTLETY, IN THE LONG RUN, WHAT HE CANNOT DO BY FORCE AND VIOLENCE IN THE SHORT ONE. Reconciliation and ruin are nearly related.

Secondly, That as even the best terms, which we can expect to obtain, can amount to no more than a temporary expedient, or a kind of government by guardianship, which can last no longer than till the colonies come of age, so the general face and state of things, in the interim, will be unsettled and unpromising. Emigrants of property will not choose to come to a country whose form of government hangs but by a thread, and who is every day tottering on the brink of commotion and disturbance; and numbers of the present inhabitants would lay hold of the interval, to dispose of their effects, and quit the continent.

But the most powerful of all arguments, is, that nothing but independence, i.e. a continental form of government, can keep the peace of the continent and preserve it inviolate from civil wars. I dread the event of a reconciliation with Britain now, as it is more than probable, that it will be followed by a revolt somewhere or other, the consequences of which may be far more fatal than all the malice of Britain.

Thousands are already ruined by British barbarity; (thousands more will probably suffer the same fate). Those men have other feelings than us who have nothing suffered. All they now possess is liberty, what they before enjoyed is sacrificed to its service, and having nothing more to lose, they disdain submission. Besides, the general temper of the colonies, towards a British government, will be like that of a youth, who is nearly out of his time, they will care very little about her. And a government which cannot preserve the peace, is no government at all, and in that case we pay our money for nothing; and pray what is it that Britain can do, whose power will be wholly on paper, should a civil tumult break out the very day after reconciliation? I have heard some men say, many of whom I believe spoke without thinking, that they dreaded an independence, fearing that it would produce civil wars. It is but seldom that our first thoughts are truly correct, and that is the case here; for there are ten times more to dread from a patched up connection than from independence. I make the sufferers' case my own, and I protest, that were I driven from house and home, my property destroyed, and my circumstances ruined, that as a man, sensible of injuries, I could never relish the doctrine of reconciliation, or consider myself bound thereby.

The colonies have manifested such a spirit of good order and obedience to continental government, as is sufficient to make every reasonable person easy and happy on that head. No man can assign the least pretence for his fears, on any other grounds, that such as are truly childish and ridiculous, that one colony will be striving for superiority over another.

Where there are no distinctions there can be no superiority, perfect equality affords no temptation. The republics of Europe are all (and we may say always) in peace. Holland and Switzerland are without wars, foreign or domestic: Monarchical governments, it is true, are never long at rest; the crown itself is a temptation to enterprising ruffians at home; and that degree of pride and insolence ever attendant on regal authority, swells into a rupture with foreign powers, in instances, where a republican government, by being formed on more natural principles, would negotiate the mistake.

If there is any true cause of fear respecting independence, it is because no plan is yet laid down. Men do not see their way out — Wherefore, as an opening into that business, I offer the following hints; at the same time modestly affirming, that I have no other opinion of them myself, than that they may be the means of giving rise to something better. Could the straggling thoughts of individuals be collected, they would frequently form materials for wise and able men to improve to useful matter.

LET the assemblies be annual, with a President only. The representation more equal. Their business wholly domestic, and subject to the authority of a Continental Congress.

Let each colony be divided into six, eight, or ten, convenient districts, each district to send a proper number of delegates to Congress, so that each colony send at least thirty. The whole number in Congress will be at least 390. Each Congress to sit and to choose a president by the following method. When the delegates are met, let a colony be taken from the whole thirteen colonies by lot, after which let the whole Congress choose (by ballot) a president from out of the delegates of that province. In the next Congress, let a colony be taken by lot from twelve only, omitting that colony from which the president was taken in the former Congress, and so proceeding on till the whole thirteen shall have had their proper rotation. And in order that nothing may pass into a law but what is satisfactorily just, not less than three fifths of the Congress to be called a majority. — He that will promote discord, under a government so equally formed as this, would join Lucifer in his revolt.

But as there is a peculiar delicacy, from whom, or in what manner, this business must first arise, and as it seems most agreeable and consistent, that it should come from some intermediate body between the governed and the governors, that is between the Congress and the people, let a CONTINENTAL CONFERENCE be held, in the following manner, and for the following purpose.

A committee of twenty-six members of Congress, viz. two for each colony. Two members for each house of assembly, or Provincial convention; and five representatives of the people at large, to be chosen in the capital city or town of each province, for, and in behalf of the whole province, by as many qualified voters as shall think proper to attend from all parts of the province for that purpose; or, if more convenient, the representatives may be chosen in two or three of the most populous parts thereof. In this conference, thus assembled, will be united, the two grand principles of business, knowledge and power. The members of Congress, Assemblies, or Conventions, by having had experience in national concerns, will be able and useful counsellors, and the whole, being empowered by the people will have a truly legal authority.

The conferring members being met, let their business be to frame a CONTINENTAL CHARTER, or Charter of the United Colonies; (answering to what is called the Magna Charta of England) fixing the number and manner of choosing members of Congress, members of Assembly, with their date of sitting, and drawing the line of business and jurisdiction between them: (Always remembering, that our strength is continental, not provincial:) Securing freedom and property to all men, and above all things the free exercise of religion, according to the dictates of conscience; with such other matter as is necessary for a charter to contain. Immediately after which, the said conference to dissolve, and the bodies which shall be chosen conformable to the said charter, to be the legislators and governors of this continent and for the time being: Whose peace and happiness, may God preserve, Amen.

Should any body of men be hereafter delegated for this or some similar purpose, I offer them the following extracts from that wise observer on governments Dragonetti. 'The science', says he, 'of the politician consists in fixing the true point of happiness and freedom. Those men would deserve the gratitude of ages, who should discover a mode of government that contained the greatest sum of individual happiness, with the least national expense.' — Dragonetti on Virtue and Rewards.

But where says some is the King of America? I'll tell you Friend, he reigns above, and doth not make havoc of mankind like the Royal — of Britain. Yet that we may not appear to be defective even in earthly honours, let a day be solemnly set apart for proclaiming the charter; let it be brought forth placed on the divine law, the word of God; let a crown be placed thereon, by which the world may know, that so far as we approve of monarchy, that in America THE LAW IS KING. For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other. But lest any ill use should afterwards arise, let the crown at the conclusion of the ceremony be demolished, and scattered among the people whose right it is.

A government of our own is our natural right: And when a man seriously reflects on the precariousness of human affairs, he will become convinced, that it is infinitely wiser and safer, to form a constitution of our own in a cool deliberate manner, while we have it in our power, than to trust such an interesting event to time and chance. If we omit it now, some Massenello【2】 may hereafter arise, who laying hold of popular disquietudes, may collect together the desperate and the discontented, and by assuming to themselves the powers of government, may sweep away the liberties of the continent like a deluge. Should the government of America return again into the hands of Britain, the tottering situation of things, will be a temptation for some desperate adventurer to try his fortune; and in such a case, what relief can Britain give? Ere she could hear the news the fatal business might be done, and ourselves suffering like the wretched Britons under the oppression of the Conqueror. Ye that oppose independence now, ye know not what ye do; ye are opening a door to eternal tyranny, by keeping vacant the seat of government. There are thousands and tens of thousands, who would think it glorious to expel from the continent, that barbarous and hellish power, which hath stirred up the Indians and Negroes to destroy us; the cruelty hath a double guilt, it is dealing brutally by us, and treacherously by them.

To talk of friendship with those in whom our reason forbids us to have faith, and our affections wounded through a thousand pores instruct us to detest, is madness and folly. Every day wears out the little remains of kindred between us and them, and can there be any reason to hope, that as the relationship expires, the affection will increase, or that we shall agree better, when we have ten times more and greater concerns to quarrel over than ever?

Ye that tell us of harmony and reconciliation, can ye restore to us the time that is past? Can ye give to prostitution its former innocence? Neither can ye reconcile Britain and America. The last cord now is broken, the people of England are presenting addresses against us. There are injuries which nature cannot forgive; she would cease to be nature if she did. As well can the lover forgive the ravisher of his mistress, as the continent forgive the murders of Britain. The Almighty hath implanted in us these unextinguishable feelings for good and wise purposes. They are the guardians of his image in our hearts. They distinguish us from the herd of common animals. The social compact would dissolve, and justice be extirpated from the earth, or have only a casual existence were we callous to the touches of affection. The robber and the murderer, would often escape unpunished, did not the injuries which our tempers sustain, provoke us into justice.

O ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose, not only the tyranny, but the tyrant, stand forth! Every spot of the old world is over-run with oppression. Freedom hath been hunted round the globe. Asia, and Africa, have long expelled her. — Europe regards her like a stranger, and England hath given her warning to depart. O! receive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for mankind.

On the Present Ability of America, with some Miscellaneous Reflections

I have never met with a man, either in England or America, who hath not confessed his opinion, that a separation between the countries, would take place one time or other. And there is no instance in which we have shewn less judgement, than in endeavouring to describe, what we call, the ripeness or fitness of the Continent for independence.

As all men allow the measure, and vary only in their opinion of the time, let us, in order to remove mistakes, take a general survey of things and endeavour if possible, to find out the very time. But we need not go far, the inquiry ceases at once, for the time hath found us. The general concurrence, the glorious union of all things prove the fact.

It is not in numbers but in unity, that our great strength lies; yet our present numbers are sufficient to repel the force of all the world. The Continent hath, at this time, the largest body of armed and disciplined men of any power under Heaven; and is just arrived at that pitch of strength, in which no single colony is able to support itself, and the whole, when united can accomplish the matter, and either more, or, less than this, might be fatal in its effects. Our land force is already sufficient, and as to naval affairs, we cannot be insensible, that Britain would never suffer an American man of war to be built while the continent remained in her hands. Wherefore we should be no forwarder an hundred years hence in that branch, than we are now; but the truth is, we should be less so, because the timber of the country is every day diminishing, and that which will remain at last, will be far off and difficult to procure.

Were the continent crowded with inhabitants, her sufferings under the present circumstances would be intolerable. The more sea port towns we had, the more should we have both to defend and to lose. Our present numbers are so happily proportioned to our wants, that no man need be idle. The diminution of trade affords an army, and the necessities of an army create a new trade.

Debts we have none; and whatever we may contract on this account will serve as a glorious memento of our virtue. Can we but leave posterity with a settled form of government, an independent constitution of its own, the purchase at any price will be cheap. But to expend millions for the sake of getting a few vile acts repealed, and routing the present ministry only, is unworthy the charge, and is using posterity with the utmost cruelty; because it is leaving them the great work to do, and a debt upon their backs, from which they derive no advantage. Such a thought is unworthy a man of honour, and is the true characteristic of a narrow heart and a peddling politician.

The debt we may contract doth not deserve our regard if the work be but accomplished. No nation ought to be without a debt. A national debt is a national bond; and when it bears no interest, is in no case a grievance. Britain is oppressed with a debt of upwards of one hundred and forty millions sterling, for which she pays upwards of four millions interest. And as a compensation for her debt, she has a large navy; America is without a debt, and without a navy; yet for the twentieth part of the English national debt, could have a navy as large again. The navy of England is not worth, at this time, more than three millions and a half sterling.

The first and second editions of this pamphlet were published without the following calculations, which are now given as a proof that the above estimation of the navy is a just one. See Entic's naval history, intro. page 56.

The charge of building a ship of each rate, and furnishing her with masts, yards, sails and rigging, together with a proportion of eight months boatswain's and carpenter's sea-stores, as calculated by Mr Burchett, Secretary to the navy.

And from hence it is easy to sum up the value, or cost rather, of the whole British navy, which in the year 1757, when it was at its greatest glory consisted of the following ships and guns:

No country on the globe is so happily situated, so internally capable of raising a fleet as America. Tar, timber, iron, and cordage are her natural produce. We need go abroad for nothing. Whereas the Dutch, who make large profits by hiring out their ships of war to the Spaniards and Portuguese, are obliged to import most of the materials they use. We ought to view the building of a fleet as an article of commerce, it being the natural manufactory of this country. It is the best money we can lay out. A navy when finished is worth more than it cost. And is that nice point in national policy, in which commerce and protection are united. Let us build; if we want them not, we can sell; and by that means replace our paper currency with ready gold and silver.

In point of manning a fleet, people in general run into great errors; it is not necessary that one-fourth part should be sailors. The Terrible privateer, Captain Death, stood the hottest engagement of any ship last war, yet had not twenty sailors on board, though her complement of men was upwards of two hundred. A few able and social sailors will soon instruct a sufficient number of active land-men in the common work of a ship. Wherefore, we never can be more capable to begin on maritime matters than now, while our timber is standing, our fisheries blocked up, and our sailors and shipwrights out of employ. Men of war of seventy and eighty guns were built forty years ago in New England, and why not the same now? Ship-building is America's greatest pride, and in which, she will in time excel the whole world. The great empires of the east are mostly inland, and consequently excluded from the possibility of rivalling her. Africa is in a state of barbarism; and no power in Europe, hath either such an extent or coast, or such an internal supply of materials. Where nature hath given the one, she has withheld the other; to America only hath she been liberal of both. The vast empire of Russia is almost shut out from the sea; wherefore, her boundless forests, her tar, iron, and cordage are only articles of commerce.

In point of safety, ought we to be without a fleet? We are not the little people now, which we were sixty years ago; at that time we might have trusted our property in the streets, or fields rather; and slept securely without locks or bolts to our doors or windows. The case now is altered, and our methods of defence ought to improve with our increase of property. A common pirate, twelve months ago, might have come up the Delaware, and laid the city of Philadelphia under instant contribution, for what sum he pleased; and the same might have happened to other places. Nay, any daring fellow, in a brig of fourteen or sixteen guns, might have robbed the whole Continent, and carried off half a million of money. These are circumstances which demand our attention, and point out the necessity of naval protection.

Some, perhaps, will say, that after we have made it up with Britain, she will protect us. Can we be so unwise as to mean, that she shall keep a navy in our harbours for that purpose? Common sense will tell us, that the power which hath endeavoured to subdue us, is of all others the most improper to defend us. Conquest may be effected under the pretence of friendship; and ourselves, after a long and brave resistance, be at last cheated into slavery. And if her ships are not to be admitted into our harbours, I would ask, how is she to protect us? A navy three or four thousand miles off can be of little use, and on sudden emergencies, none at all. Wherefore, if we must hereafter protect ourselves, why not do it for ourselves? Why do it for another?

The English list of ships of war is long and formidable, but not a tenth part of them are at any time fit for service, numbers of them not in being; yet their names are pompously continued in the list, if only a plank be left of the ship: and not a fifth part, of such as are fit for service, can be spared on any one station at one time. The East, and West Indies, Mediterranean, Africa, and other parts over which Britain extends her claim, make large demands upon her navy. From a mixture of prejudice and inattention, we have contracted a false notion respecting the navy of England, and have talked as if we should have the whole of it to encounter at once, and for that reason, supposed that we must have one as large; which not being instantly practicable, have been made use of by a set of disguised Tories to discourage our beginning thereon. Nothing can be farther from truth than this; for if America had only a twentieth part of the naval force of Britain, she would be by far an over match for her; because, as we neither have, nor claim any foreign dominion, our whole force would be employed on our own coast, where we should, in the long run, have two to one the advantage of those who had three or four thousand miles to sail over, before they could attack us, and the same distance to return in order to refit and recruit. And although Britain by her fleet, hath a check over our trade to Europe, we have as large a one over her trade to the West Indies, which, by laying in the neighbourhood of the Continent, is entirely at its mercy.

Some method might be fallen on to keep up a naval force in time of peace, if we should not judge it necessary to support a constant navy. If premiums were to be given to merchants, to build and employ in their service, ships mounted with twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty guns, (the premiums to be in proportion to the loss of bulk to the merchants) fifty or sixty of those ships, with a few guard ships on constant duty, would keep up a sufficient navy, and that without burdening ourselves with the evil so loudly complained of in England, of suffering their fleet, in time of peace to lie rotting in the docks. To unite the sinews of commerce and defence is sound policy; for when our strength and our riches, play into each other's hand, we need fear no external enemy.

In almost every article of defence we abound. Hemp flourishes even to rankness, so that we need not want cordage. Our iron is superior to that of other countries. Our small arms equal to any in the world. Cannon we can cast at pleasure. Saltpetre and gunpowder we are every day producing. Our knowledge is hourly improving. Resolution is our inherent character, and courage hath never yet forsaken us. Wherefore, what is it that we want? Why is it that we hesitate? From Britain we can expect nothing but ruin. If she is once admitted to the government of America again, this Continent will not be worth living in. Jealousies will be always arising; insurrections will be constantly happening; and who will go forth to quell them? Who will venture his life to reduce his own countrymen to a foreign obedience? The difference between Pennsylvania and Connecticut, respecting some unlocated lands, shews the insignificance of a B—sh government, and fully proves, that nothing but Continental authority can regulate Continental matters.

Another reason why the present time is preferable to all others, is, that the fewer our numbers are, the more land there is yet unoccupied, which instead of being lavished by the k— on his worthless dependants, may be hereafter applied, not only to the discharge of the present debt, but to the constant support of government. No nation under heaven hath such an advantage as this.

The infant state of the Colonies, as it is called, so far from being against, is an argument in favour of independence. We are sufficiently numerous, and were we more so, we might be less united. It is a matter worthy of observation, that the more a country is peopled, the smaller their armies are. In military numbers, the ancients far exceeded the moderns: and the reason is evident, for trade being the consequence of population, men become too much absorbed thereby to attend to any thing else. Commerce diminishes the spirit, both of patriotism and military defence. And history sufficiently informs us, that the bravest achievements were always accomplished in the nonage of a nation. With the increase of commerce, England hath lost its spirit. The city of London, notwithstanding its numbers, submits to continued insults with the patience of a coward. The more men have to lose, the less willing are they to venture. The rich are in general slaves to fear, and submit to courtly power with the trembling duplicity of a spaniel.

Youth is the seed time of good habits, as well in nations as in individuals. It might be difficult, if not impossible, to form the Continent into one government half a century hence. The vast variety of interests, occasioned by an increase of trade and population, would create confusion. Colony would be against colony. Each being able might scorn each other's assistance: and while the proud and foolish gloried in their little distinctions, the wise would lament that the union had not been formed before. Wherefore, the present time is the true time for establishing it. The intimacy which is contracted in infancy, and the friendship which is formed in misfortune, are, of all others, the most lasting and unalterable. Our present union is marked with both these characters: we are young, and we have been distressed; but our concord hath withstood our troubles, and fixes a memorable era for posterity to glory in.

The present time, likewise, is that peculiar time, which never happens to a nation but once, viz. the time of forming itself into a government. Most nations have let slip the opportunity, and by that means have been compelled to receive laws from their conquerors, instead of making laws for themselves. First, they had a king, and then a form of government; whereas, the articles or charter of government, should be formed first, and men delegated to execute them afterwards: but from the errors of other nations, let us learn wisdom, and lay hold of the present opportunity — To begin government at the right end.

When William the Conqueror subdued England he gave them law at the point of the sword; and until we consent that the seat of government in America, be legally and authoritatively occupied, we shall be in danger of having it filled by some fortunate ruffian, who may treat us in the same manner, and then, where will be our freedom? where our property?

As to religion, I hold it to be the indispensable duty of all government, to protect all conscientious professors thereof, and I know of no other business which government hath to do therewith. Let a man throw aside that narrowness of soul, that selfishness of principle, which the niggards of all professions are so unwilling to part with, and he will be at once delivered of his fears on that head. Suspicion is the companion of mean souls, and the bane of all good society. For myself I fully and conscientiously believe, that it is the will of the Almighty, that there should be diversity of religious opinions among us: It affords a larger field of our christian kindness. Were we all of one way of thinking, our religious dispositions would want matter for probation; and on this liberal principle, I look on the various denominations among us, to be like children of the same family, differing only, in what is called their Christian names.

In page fifty-four,【3】 I threw out a few thoughts on the propriety of a Continental Charter, (for I only presume to offer hints not plans) and in this place, I take the liberty of rementioning the subject, by observing, that a charter is to be understood as a bond of solemn obligation, which the whole enters into, to support the right of every separate part, whether of religion, personal freedom, or property. A firm bargain and a right reckoning make long friends.

In a former page I likewise mentioned the necessity of a large and equal representation; and there is no political matter which more deserves our attention. A small number of electors, or a small number of representatives, are equally dangerous. But if the number of the representatives be not only small, but unequal, the danger is increased. As an instance of this, I mention the following; when the Associators petition was before the House of Assembly of Pennsylvania; twenty-eight members only were present, all the Bucks county members, being eight, voted against it, and had seven of the Chester members done the same, this whole province had been governed by two counties only, and this danger it is always exposed to. The unwarrantable stretch likewise, which that House made in their last sitting, to gain an undue authority over the Delegates of that province, ought to warn the people at large, how they trust power out of their own hands. A set of instructions for the Delegates were put together, which in point of sense and business would have dishonoured a school-boy, and after being approved by a few, a very few without doors, were carried into the House, and there passed in behalf of the whole colony; whereas, did the whole colony know, with what ill-will that House hath entered on some necessary public measures, they would not hesitate a moment to think them unworthy of such a trust.

Immediate necessity makes many things convenient, which if continued would grow into oppressions. Expedience and right are different things. When the calamities of America required a consultation, there was no method so ready, or at that time so proper, as to appoint persons from the several Houses of Assembly for that purpose and the wisdom with which they have proceeded hath preserved this continent from ruin. But as it is more than probable that we shall never be without a CONGRESS, every well wisher to good order, must own, that the mode for choosing members of that body, deserves consideration. And I put it as a question to those, who make a study of mankind, whether representation and election is not too great a power for one and the same body of men to possess? When we are planning for posterity, we ought to remember that virtue is not hereditary.

It is from our enemies that we often gain excellent maxims, and are frequently surprised into reason by their mistakes. Mr Cornwall (one of the Lords of the Treasury) treated the petition of the New York Assembly with contempt, because that House, he said, consisted but of twenty-six members, which trifling number, he argued, could not with decency be put for the whole. We thank him for his involuntary honesty.【4】

TO CONCLUDE, however strange it may appear to some, or however unwilling they may be to think so, matters not, but many strong and striking reasons may be given, to shew, that nothing can settle our affairs so expeditiously as an open and determined declaration for independence. Some of which are,

First. — It is the custom of nations, when any two are at war, for some other powers, not engaged in the quarrel, to step in as mediators, and bring about the preliminaries of a peace: but while America calls herself the subject of Great Britain, no power, however well disposed she may be, can offer her mediation. Wherefore, in our present state we may quarrel on for ever.

Secondly. — It is unreasonable to suppose, that France or Spain will give us any kind of assistance, if we mean only to make use of that assistance for the purpose of repairing the breach, and strengthening the connection between Britain and America; because, those powers would be sufferers by the consequences.

Thirdly. — While we profess ourselves the subjects of Britain, we must, in the eye of foreign nations, be considered as rebels. The precedent is somewhat dangerous to their peace, for men to be in arms under the name of subjects; we on the spot, can solve the paradox: but to unite resistance and subjection, requires an idea much too refined for common understanding.

Fourthly. — Were a manifesto to be published, and dispatched to foreign courts, setting forth the miseries we have endured, and the peaceable methods we have ineffectually used for redress; declaring, at the same time, that not being able, any longer to live happily or safely under the cruel disposition of the B—sh court, we had been driven to the necessity of breaking off all connection with her; at the same time assuring all such courts of our peaceable disposition towards them, and of our desire of entering into trade with them: Such a memorial would produce more good effects to this Continent, than if a ship were freighted with petition to Britain.

Under our present denomination of British subjects we can neither be received nor heard abroad: The custom of all courts is against us, and will be so, until, by an independence, we take rank with other nations.

These proceedings may at first appear strange and difficult; but, like all other steps which we have already passed over, will in a little time become familiar and agreeable; and, until an independence is declared, the Continent will feel itself like a man who continues putting off some unpleasant business from day to day, yet knows it must be done, hates to set about it, wishes it over, and is continually haunted with the thoughts of its necessity.

Appendix

Since the publication of the first edition of this pamphlet, or rather, on the same day on which it came out, the — 's Speech made its appearance in this city. Had the spirit of prophecy directed the birth of this production, it could not have brought it forth, at a more seasonable juncture, or a more necessary time. The bloody mindedness of the one, shew the necessity of pursuing the doctrine of the other. Men read by way of revenge. And the speech instead of terrifying, prepared a way for the manly principles of Independence.

Ceremony, and even, silence, from whatever motive they may arise, have a hurtful tendency, when they give the least degree of countenance to base and wicked performances; wherefore, if this maxim be admitted, it naturally follows, that the — 's Speech, as being a piece of finished villainy, deserved, and still deserves, a general execration both by the Congress and the people. Yet as the domestic tranquillity of a nation, depends greatly on the chastity of what may properly be called NATIONAL MATTERS, it is often better, to pass some things over in silent disdain, than to make use of such new methods of dislike, as might introduce the least innovation, on that guardian of our peace and safety. And perhaps, it is chiefly owing to this prudent delicacy, that the — 's Speech, hath not before now, suffered a public execution. The speech if it may be called one, is nothing better than a wilful audacious libel against the truth, the common good, and the existence of mankind; and is a formal and pompous method of offering up human sacrifices to the pride of tyrants. But this general massacre of mankind, is one of the privileges, and the certain consequences of K—s; for as nature knows them not, they know not her, and although they are beings of our own creating, they know not us, and are become the gods of their creators. The speech hath one good quality, which is, that it is not calculated to deceive, neither can we, even if we would, be deceived by it. Brutality and tyranny appear on the face of it. It leaves us at no loss: And every line convinces, even in the moment of reading, that He, who hunts the woods for prey, the naked and untutored Indian, is less a Savage than the — of B—.

Sir J—n D—e, the putative father of a whining Jesuitical piece, fallaciously called, 'The Address of the people of ENGLAND to the inhabitants of AMERICA', hath, perhaps from a vain supposition, that the people here were to be frightened at the pomp and description of a king, given, (though very unwisely on his part) the real character of the present one: 'But,' says this writer, 'if you are inclined to pay compliments to an administration, which we do not complain of,' (meaning the Marquis of Rockingham's at the repeal of the Stamp Act) 'it is very unfair in you to withhold them from that prince, by whose NOD ALONE they were permitted to do any thing.' This is Toryism with a witness! Here is idolatry even without a mask: And he who can calmly hear, and digest such doctrine, hath forfeited his claim to rationality — an apostate from the order of manhood; and ought to be considered — as one, who hath, not only given up the proper dignity of a man, but sunk himself beneath the rank of animals, and contemptibly crawl through the world like a worm.

However, it matters very little now, what the — of E — either says or does; he hath wickedly broken through every moral and human obligation, trampled nature and conscience beneath his feet; and by a steady and constitutional spirit of insolence and cruelty, procured for himself an universal hatred. It is now the interest of America to provide for herself. She hath already a large and young family, whom it is more her duty to take care of, than to be granting away her property, to support a power who is become a reproach to the names of men and Christians — YE, whose office it is to watch over the morals of a nation, of whatsoever sect or denomination ye are of, as well as ye, who are more immediately the guardians of the public liberty, if ye wish to preserve your native country uncontaminated by European corruption, ye must in secret wish a separation — But leaving the moral part to private reflection, I shall chiefly confine my farther remarks to the following heads.

First. That it is the interest of America to be separated from Britain.

Secondly. Which is the easiest and most practicable plan, RECONCILIATION OR INDEPENDENCE? with some occasional remarks.

In support of the first, I could, if I judged it proper, produce the opinion of some of the ablest and most experienced men on this continent; and whose sentiments, on that head, are not yet publicly known. It is in reality a self-evident position: For no nation in a state of foreign dependence, limited in its commerce, and cramped and fettered in its legislative powers, can ever arrive at any material eminence. America doth not yet know what opulence is; and although the progress which she hath made stands unparalleled in the history of other nations, it is but childhood, compared with what she would be capable of arriving at, had she, as she ought to have, the legislative powers in her own hands. England is, at this time, proudly coveting what would do her no good, were she to accomplish it; and the Continent hesitating on a matter, which will be her final ruin if neglected. It is the commerce and not the conquest of America, by which England is to be benefited, and that would in a great measure continue, were the countries as independent of each other as France and Spain; because in many articles, neither can go to a better market. But it is the independence of this country on Britain or any other, which is now the main and only object worthy of contention, and which, like all other truths discovered by necessity, will appear clearer and stronger every day.

First. Because it will come to that one time or other.

Secondly. Because the longer it is delayed the harder it will be to accomplish.

I have frequently amused myself both in public and private companies, with silently remarking the spacious errors of those who speak without reflecting. And among the many which I have heard, the following seems the most general, viz. that had this rupture happened forty or fifty years hence, instead of now, the Continent would have been more able to have shaken off the dependence. To which I reply, that our military ability at this time, arises from the experience gained in the last war, and which in forty or fifty years time, would have been totally extinct. The Continent, would not, by that time, have had a General, or even a military officer left; and we, or those who may succeed us, would have been as ignorant of martial matters as the ancient Indians: And this single position, closely attended to, will unanswerably prove, that the present time is preferable to all others: The argument turns thus — at the conclusion of the last war, we had experience, but wanted numbers; and forty or fifty years hence, we should have numbers, without experience; wherefore, the proper point of time, must be some particular point between the two extremes, in which a sufficiency of the former remains, and a proper increase of the latter is obtained: And that point of time is the present time.

The reader will pardon this digression, as it does not properly come under the head I first set out with, and to which I again return by the following position, viz.

Should affairs be patched up with Britain, and she to remain the governing and sovereign power of America, (which as matters are now circumstanced, is giving up the point entirely) we shall deprive ourselves of the very means of sinking the debt we have or may contract. The value of the back lands which some of the provinces are clandestinely deprived of, by the unjust extension of the limits of Canada, valued only at five pounds sterling per hundred acres, amount to upwards of twenty-five millions, Pennsylvania currency; and the quit-rents at one penny sterling per acre, to two millions yearly.

It is by the sale of those lands that the debt may be sunk, without burthen to any, and the quit-rent reserved thereon, will always lessen, and in time, will wholly support the yearly expense of government. It matters not how long the debt is in paying, so that the lands when sold be applied to the discharge of it, and for the execution of which, the Congress for the time being, will be the continental trustees.

I proceed now to the second head, viz. Which is the earliest and most practicable plan, RECONCILIATION or INDEPENDENCE? with some occasional remarks.

He who takes nature for his guide is not easily beaten out of his argument and on that ground, I answer generally — That INDEPENDENCE being a SINGLE SIMPLE LINE, contained within ourselves; and reconciliation, a matter exceedingly perplexed and complicated, and in which, a treacherous capricious court is to interfere, gives the answer without a doubt.

The present state of America is truly alarming to every man who is capable of reflection. Without law, without government, without any other mode of power than what is founded on, and granted by courtesy. Held together by an unexampled concurrence of sentiment, which is nevertheless subject to change, and which every secret enemy is endeavouring to dissolve. Our present condition, is, Legislation without law; wisdom without a plan; a constitution without a name; and, what is strangely astonishing, perfect Independence contending for Dependence. The instance is without a precedent; the case never existed before; and who can tell what may be the event? The property of no man is secure in the present unbraced system of things. The mind of the multitude is left at random, and feeling no fixed object before them, they pursue such as fancy or opinion starts. Nothing is criminal; there is no such thing as treason; wherefore, every one thinks himself at liberty to act as he pleases. The Tories dared not to have assembled offensively, had they known that their lives, by that act were forfeited to the laws of the state. A line of distinction should be drawn, between English soldiers taken in battle, and inhabitants of America taken in arms. The first are prisoners, but the latter traitors. The one forfeits his liberty, the other his head.

Notwithstanding our wisdom, there is a visible feebleness in some of our proceedings which gives encouragement to dissensions. The Continental belt is too loosely buckled. And if something is not done in time, it will be too late to do any thing, and we shall fall into a state, in which, neither reconciliation nor independence will be practicable. The — and his worthless adherents are got at their old game of dividing the Continent, and there are not wanting among us, Printers, who will be busy spreading specious falsehoods. The artful and hypocritical letter which appeared a few months ago in two of the New York papers, and likewise in two others, is an evidence that there are men who want either judgement or honesty.

It is easy getting into holes and corners and talking of reconciliation: But do such men seriously consider, how difficult the task is, and how dangerous it may prove, should the Continent divide thereon. Do they take within their view, all the various orders of men whose situation and circumstances, as well as their own, are to be considered therein. Do they put themselves in the place of the sufferer whose all is already gone, and of the soldier, who hath quitted all for the defence of his country. If their ill-judged moderation be suited to their own private situations only, regardless of others, the event will convince them, that 'they are reckoning without their Host'.

Put us, says some, on the footing we were on in sixty-three: To which I answer, the request is not now in the power of Britain to comply with, neither will she propose it; but if it were, and even should be granted, I ask, as a reasonable question, By what means is such a corrupt and faithless court to be kept to its engagements? Another parliament, nay, even the present, may hereafter repeal the obligation, on the pretence of its being violently obtained, or unwisely granted; and in that case, Where is our redress? — No going to law with nations; cannon are the barristers of crowns; and the sword, not of justice, but of war, decides the suit. To be on the footing of sixty-three, it is not sufficient, that the laws only be put on the same state, but, that our circumstances, likewise, be put on the same state; our burnt and destroyed towns repaired or built up, our private losses made good, our public debts (contracted for defence) discharged; otherwise, we shall be millions worse than we were at that enviable period. Such a request had it been complied with a year ago, would have won the heart and soul of the Continent — but now it is too late, 'The Rubicon is passed.'

Besides the taking up arms, merely to enforce the repeal of a pecuniary law, seems as unwarrantable by the divine law, and as repugnant to human feelings, as the taking up arms to enforce obedience thereto. The object, on either side, doth not justify the ways and means; for the lives of men are too valuable to be cast away on such trifles. It is the violence which is done and threatened to our persons; the destruction of our property by an armed force; the invasion of our country by fire and sword, which conscientiously qualifies the use of arms: And the instant, in which such a mode of defence became necessary, all subjection to Britain ought to have ceased; and the independency of America should have been considered, as dating its era from, and published by, the first musket that was fired against her. This line is a line of consistency; neither drawn by caprice, nor extended by ambition; but produced by a chain of events, of which the colonies were not the authors.

I shall conclude these remarks, with the following timely and well intended hints. We ought to reflect, that there are three different ways by which an independency may hereafter be effected; and that one of those three, will one day or other, be the fate of America, viz. By the legal voice of the people in Congress; by a military power; or by a mob: It may not always happen that our soldiers are citizens, and the multitude a body of reasonable men; virtue, as I have already remarked, is not hereditary, neither is it perpetual. Should an independency be brought about by the first of those means, we have every opportunity and every encouragement before us, to form the noblest, purest constitution on the face of the earth. We have it in our power to begin the world over again. A situation, similar to the present, hath not happened since the days of Noah until now. The birth-day of a new world is at hand, and a race of men perhaps as numerous as all Europe contains, are to receive their portion of freedom from the event of a few months. The Reflection is awful — and in this point of view, How trifling, how ridiculous, do the little, paltry cavellings, of a few weak or interested men appear, when weighed against the business of a world.

Should we neglect the present favourable and inviting period, and an independence be hereafter effected by any other means, we must charge the consequence to ourselves, or to those rather, whose narrow and prejudiced souls, are habitually opposing the measure, without either inquiring or reflecting. There are reasons to be given in support of Independence, which men should rather privately think of, than be publicly told of. We ought not now to be debating whether we shall be independent or not, but, anxious to accomplish it on a firm, secure, and honourable basis, and uneasy rather that it is not yet began upon. Every day convinces us of its necessity. Even the Tories (if such beings yet remain among us) should, of all men, be the most solicitous to promote it; for, as the appointment of committees at first, protected them from popular rage, so, a wise and well established form of government, will be the only certain means of continuing it securely to them. Wherefore, if they have not virtue enough to be WHIGS, they ought to have prudence enough to wish for Independence.

In short, Independence is the only BOND that can tie and keep us together. We shall then see our object, and our ears will be legally shut against the schemes of an intriguing, as well as a cruel enemy. We shall then too, be on a proper footing, to treat with Britain; for there is reason to conclude, that the pride of that court, will be less hurt by treating with the American states for terms of peace, than with those, whom she denominates, 'rebellious subjects', for terms of accommodation. It is our delaying it that encourages her to hope for conquest, and our backwardness tends only to prolong the war. As we have, without any good effect therefrom, withheld our trade to obtain a redress of our grievances, let us now try the alternative, by independently redressing them ourselves, and then offering to open the trade. The mercantile and reasonable part of England will be still with us; because, peace with trade, is preferable to war without it. And if this offer be not accepted, other courts may be applied to.

On these grounds I rest the matter. And as no offer hath yet been made to refute the doctrine contained in the former editions of this pamphlet, it is a negative proof, that either the doctrine cannot be refuted, or, that the party in favour of it are too numerous to be opposed. WHEREFORE, instead of gazing at each other with suspicious or doubtful curiosity, let each of us, hold out to his neighbour the hearty hand of friendship, and unite in drawing a line, which, like an act of oblivion, shall bury in forgetfulness every former dissension. Let the names of Whig and Tory be extinct; and let none other be heard among us, than those of a good citizen, an open and resolute friend, and a virtuous supporter of the RIGHTS of MANKIND and of the FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES OF AMERICA.

To the Representatives of the Religious Society of the People called Quakers, or to so many of them as were concerned in publishing a late piece, entitled 'The Ancient Testimony and Principles of the people called Quakers renewed, with respect to the King and Government, and Touching the Commotions now prevailing in these and other parts of America, addressed to the people in general'.

The Writer of this, is one of those few, who never dishonours religion either by ridiculing, or cavilling at any denomination whatsoever. To God, and not to man, are all men accountable on the score of religion. Wherefore, this epistle is not so properly addressed to you as a religious, but as a political body, dabbling in matters, which the professed Quietude of your Principles instructs you not to meddle with.

As you have, without a proper authority for so doing, put yourselves in the place of the whole body of the Quakers, so, the writer of this, in order to be on an equal rank with yourselves, is under the necessity, of putting himself in the place of all those who approve the very writings and principles, against which your testimony is directed: And he hath chosen their singular situation, in order that you might discover in him, that presumption of character which you cannot see in yourselves. For neither he nor you have any claim or title to Political Representation.

When men have departed from the right way, it is no wonder that they stumble and fall. And it is evident from the manner in which ye have managed your testimony, that politics, (as a religious body of men) is not your proper Walk; for however well adapted it might appear to you, it is, nevertheless, a jumble of good and bad put unwisely together, and the conclusion drawn therefore, both unnatural and unjust.

The two first pages, (and the whole doth not make four) we give you credit for, and expect the same civility from you, because the love and desire of peace is not confined to Quakerism, it is the natural, as well as the religious wish of all denominations of men. And on this ground, as men labouring to establish an Independent Constitution of our own, do we exceed all others in our hope, end, and aim. Our plan is peace for ever. We are tired of contention with Britain, and can see no real end to it but in a final separation. We act consistently, because for the sake of introducing an endless and uninterrupted peace, do we bear the evils and burthens of the present day. We are endeavouring, and will steadily continue to endeavour, to separate and dissolve a connection which hath already filled our land with blood; and which, while the name of it remains, will be the fatal cause of future mischiefs to both countries.

We fight neither for revenge nor conquest; neither from pride nor passion; we are not insulting the world with our fleets and armies, nor ravaging the globe for plunder. Beneath the shade of our own vines are we attacked; in our own houses, and on our own lands, is the violence committed against us. We view our enemies in the characters of Highwaymen and Housebreakers, and having no defence for ourselves in the civil law, are obliged to punish them by the military one, and apply the sword, in the very case, where you have before now, applied the halter. — Perhaps we feel for the ruined and insulted sufferers in all and every part of the continent, and with a degree of tenderness which hath not yet made its way into some of your bosoms. But be ye sure that ye mistake not the cause and ground of your Testimony. Call not coldness of soul, religion; nor put the Bigot in the place of the Christian.

O ye partial ministers of your own acknowledged principles. If the bearing arms be sinful, the first going to war must be more so, by all the difference between wilful attack and unavoidable defence. Wherefore, if ye really preach from conscience, and mean not to make a political hobby-horse of your religion, convince the world thereof, by proclaiming your doctrine to our enemies, for they likewise bear ARMS. Give us proof of your sincerity by publishing it at St James's, to the commanders in chief at Boston, to the Admirals and Captains who are piratically ravaging our coasts, and to all the murdering miscreants who are acting in authority under HIM whom ye profess to serve. Had ye the honest soul of Barclay【5】 ye would preach repentance to your king; Ye would tell the Royal — his sins, and warn him of eternal ruin. Ye would not spend your partial invectives against the injured and the insulted only, but like faithful ministers, would cry aloud and spare none. Say not that ye are persecuted, neither endeavour to make us the authors of that reproach, which, ye are bringing upon yourselves; for we testify unto all men, that we do not complain against you because ye are Quakers, but because ye pretend to be and are NOT Quakers.

Alas! It seems by the particular tendency of some part of your testimony, and other parts of your conduct, as if all sin was reduced to, and comprehended in the act of bearing arms, and that by the people only. Ye appear to us, to have mistaken party for conscience, because the general tenor of your actions wants uniformity: And it is exceedingly difficult to us to give credit to many of your pretended scruples; because we see them made by the same men, who, in the very instant that they are exclaiming against the mammon of this world, are nevertheless, hunting after it with a step as steady as Time, and an appetite as keen as Death.

The quotation which ye have made from Proverbs, in the third page of your testimony, that, 'when a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him'; is very unwisely chosen on your part; because it amounts to a proof, that the king's ways (whom ye are so desirous of supporting) do not please the Lord, otherwise, his reign would be in peace.

I now proceed to the latter part of your testimony, and that, for which all the foregoing seems only an introduction, viz.

'It hath ever been our judgement and principle, since we were called to profess the light of Christ Jesus, manifested in our consciences unto this day, that the setting up and putting down kings and governments, is God's peculiar prerogative; for causes best known to himself: And that it is not our business to have any hand or contrivance therein; nor to be busy bodies above our station, much less to plot and contrive the ruin, or overturn any of them, but to pray for the king, and safety of our nation, and good of all men: That we may live a peaceable and quiet life, in all goodliness and honesty; under the government which God is pleased to set over us.' — If these are really your principles why do ye not abide by them? Why do ye not leave that, which ye call God's Work, to be managed by himself? These very principles instruct you to wait with patience and humility, for the event of all public measures, and to receive that event as the divine will towards you. Wherefore, what occasion is there for your political testimony if you fully believe what it contains? And the very publishing it proves, that either, ye do not believe what ye profess, or have not virtue enough to practise what ye believe.

The principles of Quakerism have a direct tendency to make a man the quiet and inoffensive subject of any, and every government which is set over him. And if the setting up and putting down of kings and governments is God's peculiar prerogative, he most certainly will not be robbed thereof by us; wherefore, the principle itself leads you to approve of every thing, which ever happened, or may happen to kings as being his work, OLIVER CROMWELL thanks you. — CHARLES, then, died not by the hands of man; and should the present Proud Imitator of him, come to the same untimely end, the writers and publishers of the testimony, are bound by the doctrine it contains, to applaud the fact. Kings are not taken away by miracles, neither are changes in governments brought about by any other means than such as are common and human; and such as we are now using. Even the dispersing of the Jews, though foretold by our Saviour, was effected by arms. Wherefore, as ye refuse to be the means on one side, ye ought not to be meddlers on the other; but to wait the issue in silence; and unless you can produce divine authority, to prove, that the Almighty who hath created and placed this new world, at the greatest distance it could possibly stand, east and west, from every part of the old, doth, nevertheless, disapprove of its being independent of the corrupt and abandoned court of B—n, unless I say, ye can show this, how can ye, on the ground of your principles, justify the exciting and stirring up of the people 'firmly to unite in the abhorrence of all such writings, and measures, as evidence a desire and design to break off the happy connection we have hitherto enjoyed, with the kingdom of Great Britain, and our just and necessary subordination to the king, and those who are lawfully placed in authority under him'. What a slap in the face is here! the men, who, in the very paragraph before, have quietly and passively resigned up the ordering, altering, and disposal of kings and governments, into the hands of God, are now recalling their principles, and putting in for a share of the business. Is it possible, that the conclusion, which is here justly quoted, can any ways follow from the doctrine laid down? The inconsistency is too glaring not to be seen; the absurdity too great not to be laughed at; and such as could only have been made by those, whose understandings were darkened by the narrow and crabby spirit of a despairing political party; for ye are not to be considered as the whole body of the Quakers but only as a factional and fractional part thereof.

Here ends the examination of your testimony; (which I call upon no man to abhor, as ye have done, but only to read and judge of fairly;) to which I subjoin the following remark; 'That the setting up and putting down of kings', most certainly mean, the making him a king, who is yet not so, and the making him no king who is already one. And pray what hath this to do in the present case? We neither mean to set up nor to put down, neither to make nor to unmake, but to have nothing to do with them. Wherefore, your testimony in whatever light it is viewed serves only to dishonour your judgement, and for many other reasons had better have been let alone than published.

First. Because it tends to the decrease and reproach of all religion whatever, and is of the utmost danger to society, to make it a party in political disputes.

Secondly. Because it exhibits a body of men, numbers of whom disavow the publishing political testimonies, as being concerned therein and approvers thereof.

Thirdly. Because it hath a tendency to undo that continental harmony and friendship which yourselves by your late liberal and charitable donations hath lent a hand to establish; and the preservation of which, is of the utmost consequence to us all.

And here without anger or resentment I bid you farewell. Sincerely wishing, that as men and Christians, ye may always fully and uninterruptedly enjoy every civil and religious right; and be, in your turn, the means of securing it to others; but that the example which ye have unwisely set, of mingling religion with politics, may be disavowed and reprobated by every inhabitant of AMERICA.

FINIS

注释

【1】Massacre at Lexington. — Paine.

【2】Thomas Anello, otherwise Massenello, a fisherman of Naples, who after spiriting up his countrymen in the public market place, against the oppression of the Spaniards, to whom the place was then subject, prompted them to revolt, and in the space of a day became King. — Paine.

【3】Page 43 in this edition. — Editors.

【4】Those who would fully understand of what great consequence a large and equal representation is to a state, should read Burgh's political Disquisitions. — Paine.

【5】'Thou hast tasted of prosperity and adversity; thou knowest what it is to be banished thy native country, to be over-ruled as well as to rule, and set upon the throne; and being oppressed thou hast reason to know how hateful the oppressor is both to God and man: If after all these warnings and advertisements, thou dost not turn unto the Lord with all thy heart, but forget him who remembered thee in thy distress, and give up thyself to follow lust and vanity, surely great will be thy condemnation. — Against which snare, as well as the temptation of those who may or do feed thee, and prompt thee to evil, the most excellent and prevalent remedy will be, to apply thyself to that light of Christ which shineth in thy conscience and which neither can, nor will flatter thee, nor suffer thee to be at ease in thy sins.' — Barclay's Address to Charles Ⅱ. — Paine.

Agrarian Justice

Author's English Preface

The following little piece was written in the winter of 1795 and '96; and, as I had not determined whether to publish it during the present war, or to wait till the commencement of a peace, it has lain by me, without alteration or addition, from the time it was written.

What has determined me to publish it now is a sermon preached by Watson, Bishop of Llandaff. Some of my readers will recollect, that this Bishop wrote a book entitled An Apology for the Bible, in answer to my second part of The Age of Reason. I procured a copy of his book, and he may depend upon hearing from me on that subject.

At the end of the Bishop's book is a list of the works he has written. Among which is the sermon alluded to; it is entitled: 'The Wisdom and Goodness of God, in having made both Rich and Poor; with an Appendix, containing Reflections on the Present State of England and France'.

The error contained in this sermon determined me to publish my Agrarian Justice. It is wrong to say God made rich and poor; He made only male and female; and He gave them the earth for their inheritance ...

Instead of preaching to encourage one part of mankind in insolence ... it would be better that priests employed their time to render the general condition of man less miserable than it is. Practical religion consists in doing good: and the only way of serving God is that of endeavouring to make His creation happy. All preaching that has not this for its object is nonsense and hypocrisy.

THOMAS PAINE.

Agrarian Justice

To preserve the benefits of what is called civilized life, and to remedy at the same time the evil which it has produced, ought to be considered as one of the first objects of reformed legislation.

Whether that state that is proudly, perhaps erroneously, called civilization, has most promoted or most injured the general happiness of man, is a question that may be strongly contested. On one side, the spectator is dazzled by splendid appearances; on the other, he is shocked by extremes of wretchedness; both of which it has erected. The most affluent and the most miserable of the human race are to be found in the countries that are called civilized.

To understand what the state of society ought to be, it is necessary to have some idea of the natural and primitive state of man; such as it is at this day among the Indians of North America. There is not, in that state, any of those spectacles of human misery which poverty and want present to our eyes in all the towns and streets in Europe.

Poverty, therefore, is a thing created by that which is called civilized life. It exists not in the natural state. On the other hand, the natural state is without those advantages which flow from agriculture, arts, science and manufactures.

The life of an Indian is a continual holiday, compared with the poor of Europe; and, on the other hand it appears to be abject when compared to the rich. Civilization, therefore, or that which is so called, has operated two ways: to make one part of society more affluent, and the other more wretched, than would have been the lot of either in a natural state.

It is always possible to go from the natural to the civilized state, but it is never possible to go from the civilized to the natural state. The reason is that man in a natural state, subsisting by hunting, requires ten times the quantity of land to range over to procure himself sustenance, than would support him in a civilized state, where the earth is cultivated.

When, therefore, a country becomes populous by the additional aids of cultivation, art and science, there is a necessity of preserving things in that state; because without it there cannot be sustenance for more, perhaps, than a tenth part of its inhabitants. The thing, therefore, now to be done is to remedy the evils and preserve the benefits that have arisen to society by passing from the natural to that which is called the civilized state.

In taking the matter upon this ground, the first principle of civilization ought to have been, and ought still to be, that the condition of every person born into the world, after a state of civilization commences, ought not to be worse than if he had been born before that period.

But the fact is that the condition of millions, in every country in Europe, is far worse than if they had been born before civilization began, or had been born among the Indians of North America at the present day. I will show how this fact has happened.

It is a position not to be controverted that the earth, in its natural, uncultivated state was, and ever would have continued to be, the common property of the human race. In that state every man would have been born to property. He would have been a joint life proprietor with the rest in the property of the soil, and in all its natural productions, vegetable and animal.

But the earth in its natural state, as before said, is capable of supporting but a small number of inhabitants compared with what it is capable of doing in a cultivated state. And as it is impossible to separate the improvement made by cultivation from the earth itself, upon which that improvement is made, the idea of landed property arose from that inseparable connection; but it is nevertheless true, that it is the value of the improvement, only, and not the earth itself, that is individual property.

Every proprietor, therefore, of cultivated lands, owes to the community a ground-rent (for I know of no better term to express the idea) for the land which he holds; and it is from this ground-rent that the fund proposed in this plan is to issue.

It is deducible, as well from the nature of the things as from all the histories transmitted to us, that the idea of landed property commenced with cultivation, and that there was no such thing as landed property before that time. It could not exist in the first state of man, that of hunters. It did not exist in the second state, that of shepherds: neither Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, nor Job, so far as the history of the Bible may be credited in probable things, were owners of land.

Their property consisted, as is always enumerated in flocks and herds, and they travelled with them from place to place. The frequent contentions at that time about the use of a well in the dry country of Arabia, where those people lived, also show that there was no landed property. It was not admitted that land could be claimed as property.

There could be no such thing as landed property originally. Man did not make the earth, and, though he had a natural right to occupy it, he had no right to locate as his property in perpetuity any part of it; neither did the Creator of the earth open a land-office, from whence the first title-deeds should issue. Whence then, arose the idea of landed property? I answer as before, that when cultivation began the idea of landed property began with it, from the impossibility of separating the improvement made by cultivation from the earth itself, upon which that improvement was made.

The value of the improvement so far exceeded the value of the natural earth, at that time, as to absorb it; till, in the end, the common right of all became confounded into the cultivated right of the individual. But there are, nevertheless, distinct species of rights, and will continue to be, so long as the earth endures.

It is only by tracing things to their origin that we can gain rightful ideas of them, and it is by gaining such ideas that we discover the boundary that divides right from wrong, and teaches every man to know his own. I have entitled this tract 'Agrarian Justice' to distinguish it from 'Agrarian Law'.

Nothing could be more unjust than agrarian law in a country improved by cultivation; for though every man, as an inhabitant of the earth, is a joint proprietor of it in its natural state, it does not follow that he is a joint proprietor of cultivated earth. The additional value made by cultivation, after the system was admitted, became the property of those who did it, or who inherited it from them, or who purchased it. It had originally no owner. While, therefore, I advocate the right, and interest myself in the hard case of all those who have been thrown out of their natural inheritance by the introduction of the system of landed property, I equally defend the right of the possessor to the part which is his.

Cultivation is at least one of the greatest natural improvements ever made by human invention. It has given to created earth a tenfold value. But the landed monopoly that began with it has produced the greatest evil. It has dispossessed more than half the inhabitants of every nation of their natural inheritance, without providing for them, as ought to have been done, an indemnification for that loss, and has thereby created a species of poverty and wretchedness that did not exist before.

In advocating the case of the persons thus dispossessed, it is a right, and not a charity, that I am pleading for. But it is that kind of right which, being neglected at first, could not be brought forward afterwards till heaven had opened the way by a revolution in the system of government. Let us then do honour to revolutions by justice, and give currency to their principles by blessings.

Having thus in a few words, opened the merits of the case, I shall now proceed to the plan I have to propose, which is,

To create a national fund, out of which there shall be paid to every person, when arrived at the age of twenty-one years, the sum of fifteen pounds sterling, as a compensation in part, for the loss of his or her natural inheritance, by the introduction of the system of landed property:

And also, the sum of ten pounds per annum, during life, to every person now living, of the age of fifty years, and to all others as they shall arrive at that age.

Means by which the Fund is to be Created

I have already established the principle, namely, that the earth, in its natural uncultivated state was, and ever would have continued to be, the common property of the human race; that in that state, every person would have been born to property; and that the system of landed property, by its inseparable connection with cultivation, and with what is called civilized life, has absorbed the property of all those whom it dispossessed, without providing, as ought to have been done, an indemnification for that loss.

The fault, however, is not in the present possessors. No complaint is intended, or ought to be alleged against them, unless they adopt the crime by opposing justice. The fault is in the system, and it has stolen imperceptibly upon the world, aided afterwards by the agrarian law of the sword. But the fault can be made to reform itself by successive generations; and without diminishing or deranging the property of any of the present possessors, the operation of the fund can yet commence, and be in full activity, the first year of its establishment, or soon after, as I shall show.

It is proposed that the payments, as already stated, be made to every person, rich or poor. It is best to make it so, to prevent invidious distinctions. It is also right it should be so, because it is in lieu of the natural inheritance, which, as a right, belongs to every man, over and above the property he may have created, or inherited from those who did. Such persons as do not choose to receive it can throw it into the common fund.

Taking it then for granted that no person ought to be in a worse condition when born under what is called a state of civilization, than he would have been had be been born in a state of nature, and that civilization ought to have made, and ought still to make, provision for that purpose, it can only be done by subtracting from property a portion equal in value to the natural inheritance it has absorbed.

Various methods may be proposed for this purpose, but that which appears to be the best (not only because it will operate without deranging any present possessors, or without interfering with the collection of taxes or emprunts necessary for the purposes of government and the Revolution, but because it will be the least troublesome and the most effectual, and also because the subtraction will be made at a time that best admits it) is at the moment that property is passing by the death of one person to the possession of another. In this case, the bequeather gives nothing: the receiver pays nothing. The only matter to him is that the monopoly of natural inheritance, to which there never was a right, begins to cease in his person. A generous man would not wish it to continue, and a just man will rejoice to see it abolished.

My state of health prevents my making sufficient inquiries with respect to the doctrine of probabilities, whereon to found calculations with such degrees of certainty as they are capable of. What, therefore, I offer on this head is more the result of observation and reflection than of received information; but I believe it will be found to agree sufficiently with fact. In the first place, taking twenty-one years as the epoch of maturity, all the property of a nation, real and personal, is always in the possession of persons above that age. It is then necessary to know, as a datum of calculation, the average of years which persons above that age will live. I take this average to be about thirty years, for though many persons will live forty, fifty, or sixty years, after the age of twenty-one years, others will die much sooner, and some in every year of that time.

Taking, then, thirty years as the average of time, it will give, without any material variation one way or other, the average of time in which the whole property or capital of a nation, or a sum equal thereto, will have passed through one entire revolution in descent, that is, will have gone by deaths to new possessors; for though, in many instances, some parts of this capital will remain forty, fifty, or sixty years in the possession of one person, other parts will have revolved two or three times before those thirty years expire, which will bring it to that average; for were one-half the capital of a nation to revolve twice in thirty years, it would produce the same fund as if the whole revolved once.

Taking, then, thirty years as the average of time in which the whole capital of a nation, or a sum equal thereto, will revolve once, the thirtieth part thereof will be the sum that will revolve every year, that is, will go by deaths to new possessors; and this last sum being thus known, and the ratio per cent to be subtracted from it determined, it will give the annual amount or income of the proposed fund, to be applied as already mentioned.

In looking over the discourse of the English Minister, Pitt, in his opening of what is called in England the budget (the scheme of finance for the year 1796), I find an estimate of the national capital of that country. As this estimate of a national capital is prepared ready to my hand, I take it as a datum to act upon. When a calculation is made upon the known capital of any nation, combined with its population, it will serve as a scale for any other nation, in proportion as its capital and population be more or less.

I am the more disposed to take this estimate of Mr Pitt, for the purpose of showing to that minister, upon his own calculation, how much better money may be employed than in wasting it, as he has done, on the wild project of setting up Bourbon kings. What, in the name of heaven, are Bourbon kings to the people of England? It is better that the people have bread.

Mr Pitt states the national capital of England, real and personal, to be one thousand three hundred millions sterling, which is about one-fourth part of the national capital of France, including Belgia. The event of the last harvest in each country proves that the soil of France is more productive than that of England, and that it can better support twenty-four or twenty-five millions of inhabitants than that of England can seven or seven and a half millions.

The thirtieth part of this capital of £1,300,000,000 is £43,333,333 which is the part that will revolve every year by deaths in that country to new possessors; and the sum that will annually revolve in France in the proportion of four to one, will be about one hundred and seventy-three millions sterling. From this sum of £43,333,333 annually revolving, is to be subtracted the value of the natural inheritance absorbed in it, which, perhaps, in fair justice, cannot be taken at less, and ought not to be taken for more, than a tenth part.

It will always happen that of the property thus revolving by deaths every year a part will descend in a direct line to sons and daughters, and the other part collaterally, and the proportion will be found to be about three to one; that is, about thirty millions of the above sum will descend to direct heirs, and the remaining sum of £13,333,333 to more distant relations, and in part to strangers.

Considering, then, that man is always related to society, that relationship will become comparatively greater in proportion as the next of kin is more distant; it is therefore consistent with civilization to say that where there are no direct heirs society shall be heir to a part over and above the tenth part due to society.

If this additional part be from five to ten or twelve per cent, in proportion as the next of kin be nearer or more remote, so as to average with the escheats that may fall, which ought always to go to society and not to the government (an addition of ten per cent more), the produce from the annual sum of £43,333,333 will be:

Having thus arrived at the annual amount of the proposed fund, I come, in the next place, to speak of the population proportioned to this fund and to compare it with the uses to which the fund is to be applied.

The population (I mean that of England) does not exceed seven millions and a half, and the number of persons above the age of fifty will in that case be about four hundred thousand. There would not, however, be more than that number that would accept the proposed ten pounds sterling per annum, though they would be entitled to it. I have no idea it would be accepted by many persons who had a yearly income of two or three hundred pounds sterling. But as we often see instances of rich people falling into sudden poverty, even at the age of sixty, they would always have the right of drawing all the arrears due to them. Four millions, therefore, of the above annual sum of £5,666,666 will be required for four hundred thousand aged persons, at ten pounds sterling each.

I come now to speak of the persons annually arriving at twenty-one years of age. If all the persons who died were above the age of twenty-one years, the number of persons annually arriving at that age must be equal to the annual number of deaths, to keep the population stationary. But the greater part die under the age of twenty-one, and therefore the number of persons annually arriving at twenty-one will be less than half the number of deaths.

The whole number of deaths upon a population of seven millions and an half will be about 220,000 annually. The number arriving at twenty-one years of age will be about 100,000. The whole number of these will not receive the proposed fifteen pounds, for the reasons already mentioned, though, as in the former case, they would be entitled to it. Admitting then that a tenth part declined receiving it, the amount would stand thus:

There are, in every country, a number of blind and lame persons totally incapable of earning a livelihood. But as it will always happen that the greater number of blind persons will be among those who are above the age of fifty years, they will be provided for in that class. The remaining sum of £316,666 will provide for the lame and blind under that age, at the same rate of £10 annually for each person.

Having now gone through all the necessary calculations, and stated the particulars of the plan, I shall conclude with some observations.

It is not charity but a right, not bounty but justice, that I am pleading for. The present state of civilization is as odious as it is unjust. It is absolutely the opposite of what it should be, and it is necessary that a revolution should be made in it. The contrast of affluence and wretchedness continually meeting and offending the eye, is like dead and living bodies chained together. Though I care as little about riches as any man, I am a friend to riches because they are capable of good.

I care not how affluent some may be, provided that none be miserable in consequence of it. But it is impossible to enjoy affluence with the felicity it is capable of being enjoyed, while so much misery is mingled in the scene. The sight of the misery, and the unpleasant sensations it suggests, which, though they may be suffocated cannot be extinguished, are a greater drawback upon the felicity of affluence than the proposed ten per cent upon property is worth. He that would not give the one to get rid of the other has no charity, even for himself.

There are, in every country, some magnificent charities established by individuals. It is, however, but little that any individual can do, when the whole extent of the misery to be relieved is considered. He may satisfy his conscience, but not his heart. He may give all that he has, and that all will relieve but little. It is only by organizing civilization upon such principles as to act like a system of pulleys, that the whole weight of misery can be removed.

The plan here proposed will reach the whole. It will immediately relieve and take out of view three classes of wretchedness — the blind, the lame, and the aged poor; and it will furnish the rising generation with means to prevent their becoming poor; and it will do this without deranging or interfering with any national measures.

To show that this will be the case, it is sufficient to observe that the operation and effect of the plan will, in all cases, be the same as if every individual were voluntarily to make his will and dispose of his property in the manner here proposed.

But it is justice, and not charity, that is the principle of the plan. In all great cases it is necessary to have a principle more universally active than charity; and, with respect to justice, it ought not to be left to the choice of detached individuals whether they will do justice or not. Considering, then, the plan on the ground of justice, it ought to be the act of the whole growing spontaneously out of the principles of the revolution, and the reputation of it ought to be national and not individual.

A plan upon this principle would benefit the revolution by the energy that springs from the consciousness of justice. It would multiply also the national resources; for property, like vegetation, increases by offsets. When a young couple begin the world, the difference is exceedingly great whether they begin with nothing or with fifteen pounds apiece. With this aid they could buy a cow, and implements to cultivate a few acres of land; and instead of becoming burdens upon society, which is always the case where children are produced faster than they can be fed, would be put in the way of becoming useful and profitable citizens. The national domains also would sell the better if pecuniary aids were provided to cultivate them in small lots.

It is the practice of what has unjustly obtained the name of civilization (and the practice merits not to be called either charity or policy) to make some provision for persons becoming poor and wretched only at the time they become so. Would it not, even as a matter of economy, be far better to adopt means to prevent their becoming poor? This can best be done by making every person when arrived at the age of twenty-one years an inheritor of something to begin with.

The rugged face of society, chequered with the extremes of affluence and want, proves that some extraordinary violence has been committed upon it, and calls on justice for redress. The great mass of the poor in all countries are become an hereditary race, and it is next to impossible for them to get out of that state of themselves. It ought also to be observed that this mass increases in all countries that are called civilized. More persons fall annually into it than get out of it.

Though in a plan of which justice and humanity are the foundation-principles, interest ought not to be admitted into the calculation, yet it is always of advantage to the establishment of any plan to show that it is beneficial as a matter of interest. The success of any proposed plan submitted to public consideration must finally depend on the numbers interested in supporting it, united with the justice of its principles.

The plan here proposed will benefit all, without injuring any. It will consolidate the interest of the republic with that of the individual. To the numerous class dispossessed of their natural inheritance by the system of landed property it will be an act of national justice. To persons dying possessed of moderate fortunes it will operate as a tontine to their children, more beneficial than the sum of money paid into the fund: and it will give to the accumulation of riches a degree of security that none of the old governments of Europe, now tottering on their foundations, can give.

I do not suppose that more than one family in ten, in any of the countries of Europe, has, when the head of the family dies, a clear property left of five hundred pounds sterling. To all such the plan is advantageous. That property would pay fifty pounds into the fund, and if there were only two children under age they would receive fifteen pounds each (thirty pounds), on coming of age, and be entitled to ten pounds a year after fifty.

It is from the overgrown acquisition of property that the fund will support itself, and I know that the possessors of such property in England, though they would eventually be benefited by the protection of nine-tenths of it, will exclaim against the plan. But without entering into any inquiry how they came by that property, let them recollect that they have been the advocates of this war, and that Mr Pitt has already laid on more new taxes to be raised annually upon the people of England, and that for supporting the despotism of Austria and the Bourbons against the liberties of France, than would pay annually all the sums proposed in this plan.

I have made the calculations stated in this plan, upon what is called personal, as well as upon landed property. The reason for making it upon land is already explained; and the reason for taking personal property into the calculation is equally well founded though on a different principle. Land, as before said, is the free gift of the Creator in common to the human race. Personal property is the effect of society; and it is as impossible for an individual to acquire personal property without the aid of society, as it is for him to make land originally.

Separate an individual from society, and give him an island or a continent to possess, and he cannot acquire personal property. He cannot be rich. So inseparably are the means connected with the end, in all cases, that where the former do not exist the latter cannot be obtained. All accumulation, therefore, of personal property, beyond what a man's own hands produce, is derived to him by living in society; and he owes on every principle of justice, of gratitude, and of civilization, a part of that accumulation back again to society from whence the whole came.

This is putting the matter on a general principle, and perhaps it is best to do so; for if we examine the case minutely it will be found that the accumulation of personal property is, in many instances, the effect of paying too little for the labour that produced it; the consequence of which is that the working hand perishes in old age, and the employer abounds in affluence.

It is, perhaps, impossible to proportion exactly the price of labour to the profits it produces; and it will also be said, as an apology for the injustice, that were a workman to receive an increase of wages daily he would not save it against old age, nor be much better for it in the interim. Make, then, society the treasurer to guard it for him in a common fund; for it is no reason that, because he might not make a good use of it for himself, another should take it.

The state of civilization that has prevailed throughout Europe, is as unjust in its principle, as it is horrid in its effects; and it is the consciousness of this, and the apprehension that such a state cannot continue when once investigation begins in any country, that makes the possessors of property dread every idea of a revolution. It is the hazard and not the principle of revolutions that retards their progress. This being the case, it is necessary as well for the protection of property as for the sake of justice and humanity, to form a system that, while it preserves one part of society from wretchedness, shall secure the other from depredation.

The superstitious awe, the enslaving reverence, that formerly surrounded affluence, is passing away in all countries, and leaving the possessor of property to the convulsion of accidents. When wealth and splendour, instead of fascinating the multitude, excite emotions of disgust; when, instead of drawing forth admiration, it is beheld as an insult upon wretchedness; when the ostentatious appearance it makes serves to call the right of it in question, the case of property becomes critical, and it is only in a system of justice that the possessor can contemplate security.

To remove the danger, it is necessary to remove the antipathies, and this can only be done by making property productive of a national blessing, extending to every individual. When the riches of one man above another shall increase the national fund in the same proportion; when it shall be seen that the prosperity of that fund depends on the prosperity of individuals; when the more riches a man acquires, the better it shall be for the general mass; it is then that antipathies will cease, and property be placed on the permanent basis of national interest and protection.

I have no property in France to become subject to the plan I propose. What I have, which is not much, is in the United States of America. But I will pay one hundred pounds sterling towards this fund in France, the instant it shall be established; and I will pay the same sum in England, whenever a similar establishment shall take place in that country.

A revolution in the state of civilization is the necessary companion of revolutions in the system of government. If a revolution in any country be from bad to good, or from good to bad, the state of what is called civilization in that country, must be made conformable thereto, to give that revolution effect.

Despotic government supports itself by abject civilization, in which debasement of the human mind, and wretchedness in the mass of the people, are the chief criterions. Such governments consider man merely as an animal; that the exercise of intellectual faculty is not his privilege; that he has nothing to do with the laws but to obey them;【1】 and they politically depend more upon breaking the spirit of the people by poverty, than they fear enraging it by desperation.

It is a revolution in the state of civilization that will give perfection to the Revolution of France. Already the conviction that government by representation is the true system of government is spreading itself fast in the world. The reasonableness of it can be seen by all. The justness of it makes itself felt even by its opposers. But when a system of civilization, growing out of that system of government, shall be so organized that not a man or woman born in the Republic but shall inherit some means of beginning the world, and see before them the certainty of escaping the miseries that under other governments accompany old age, the Revolution of France will have an advocate and an ally in the heart of all nations.

An army of principles will penetrate where an army of soldiers cannot; it will succeed where diplomatic management would fail: it is neither the Rhine, the Channel, nor the ocean that can arrest its progress: it will march on the horizon of the world, and it will conquer.

Means for Carrying the Proposed Plan into Execution, and to Render it at the Same Time Conducive to the Public Interest

Ⅰ. Each canton shall elect in its primary assemblies, three persons, as commissioners for that canton, who shall take cognizance, and keep a register of all matters happening in that canton, conformable to the charter that shall be established by law for carrying this plan into execution.

Ⅱ. The law shall fix the manner in which the property of deceased persons shall be ascertained.

Ⅲ. When the amount of the property of any deceased persons shall be ascertained, the principal heir to that property, or the eldest of the co-heirs, if of lawful age, or if under age, the person authorized by the will of the deceased to represent him or them, shall give bond to the commissioners of the canton to pay the said tenth part thereof in four equal quarterly payments, within the space of one year or sooner, at the choice of the payers. One-half of the whole property shall remain as a security until the bond be paid off.

Ⅳ. The bond shall be registered in the office of the commissioners of the canton, and the original bonds shall be deposited in the national bank at Paris. The bank shall publish every quarter of a year the amount of the bonds in its possession, and also the bonds that shall have been paid off, or what parts thereof, since the last quarterly publication.

Ⅴ. The national bank shall issue bank notes upon the security of the bonds in its possession. The notes so issued, shall be applied to pay the pensions of aged persons, and the compensations to persons arriving at twenty-one years of age. It is both reasonable and generous to suppose, that persons not under immediate necessity, will suspend their right of drawing on the fund, until it acquire, as it will do, a greater degree of ability. In this case, it is proposed, that an honorary register be kept, in each canton, of the names of the persons thus suspending that right, at least during the present war.

Ⅵ. As the inheritors of property must always take up their bonds in four quarterly payments, or sooner if they choose, there will always be numéraire [cash] arriving at the bank after the expiration of the first quarter, to exchange for the bank notes that shall be brought in.

Ⅶ. The bank notes being thus put in circulation, upon the best of all possible security, that of actual property, to more than four times the amount of the bonds upon which the notes are issued, and with numéraire continually arriving at the bank to exchange or pay them off whenever they shall be presented for that purpose, they will acquire a permanent value in all parts of the Republic. They can therefore be received in payments of taxes, or emprunts equal to numéraire, because the Government can always receive numéraire for them at the bank.

Ⅷ. It will be necessary that the payments of the ten per cent be made in numéraire for the first year from the establishment of the plan. But after the expiration of the first year, the inheritors of property may pay ten per cent either in bank notes issued upon the fund, or in numéraire.

If the payments be in numéraire, it will lie as a deposit at the bank, to be exchanged for a quantity of notes equal to that amount; and if in notes issued upon the fund, it will cause a demand upon the fund equal thereto; and thus the operation of the plan will create means to carry itself into execution.

注释

【1】An expression used by Bishop Horsley in the Parliament of England. — Paine.

目　录

中文目录

Contens

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

论　君　权

（英汉双语）

［英］弗朗西斯·培根　著　樊阳程　译

中国出版集团

中国对外翻译出版公司

中文目录

论复仇

论双亲与子女

论婚姻和独身

论妒忌

论爱

论高位

论善与本性之善

论游历

论君权

论狡猾

论利己的学问

论新事物

论消费

论养生

论猜疑

论言谈

论财富

论野心

论美

论残疾

论建筑

论花园

论交涉

论请托者

论学问

论虚荣

论愤怒

返回总目录

论复仇

复仇乃是一种对公道的粗暴寻求，人的本性愈是趋向于此，法律越是要将其禁止。之前别人的罪行，诚然已经触犯了法律；但针对此罪行的复仇却是将法律置于不顾。固然，一个人采取复仇行为不过是为了与其仇敌相互扯平，但若能既往不咎，他便更胜一筹，因为宽恕乃是内在于贵族气质的。我确信所罗门曾言：“宽恕人的过失，便是自己的荣耀。”〔1〕过去的已经逝去，亦无法挽回，智者在当下和未来所要处理的事何其之多，让自己缠绕于过去的纷扰不过是徒增负担。没有人是为了犯罪的目的而去犯罪，不过是为了使自己从中能获得利益、愉悦或者名誉等诸如此类的好处罢了。既然如此，我何必因为一个人爱他自己胜过爱我而耿耿于怀呢？即使有人纯粹出于其邪恶的本性而去犯罪，那又如何呢？也就像是荆棘一般，除了刺扎擦划，其所能及不过如此。最可容忍的一类复仇是针对那种没有相应的法律可以主持公道的罪行的报复：但即便如此，实施复仇的人也需注意不要触及刑律；否则此人的仇敌仍然占上风，与仇敌相比，复仇者则会遭受双倍的困苦。有些时候，当给予复仇时，人们会希望对方明白这报复从何而来。这是更为宽宏的一种做法，因为复仇带来的快感似乎不在于使对方受到伤害，而是在于使其悔过。但卑鄙奸诈的懦夫却喜欢暗箭伤人。佛罗伦萨大公科斯莫斯，〔2〕对那些背信弃义或忘恩负义的朋友有过一番极端的言论，仿佛那些罪行是不可饶恕的，他说：“你应在圣书中读到过教诲我们原谅仇敌的话语，但却不会读到原谅自己朋友的话语。”还是约伯的精神格调更高，他说：“难道我们从神手里得福，不也受祸吗？”〔3〕从而由此推及朋友一定程度上也应如此。可以肯定的是，一个人若对复仇念念不忘，那么他的伤口将久久不能愈合，若非如此他的伤口应早已痊愈。报公仇者多半幸运：例如为恺撒〔4〕被刺、为珀尔提那克斯〔5〕被杀、为法兰西国王亨利三世〔6〕被害此类事件而进行的复仇；但私仇的报复则不然。与之相反，那些报复心切的人过着妖巫般的生活，他们生时于人有害，死时不得善终。

注释

〔1〕　《旧约·箴言》，第19章第11节。

〔2〕　即Cosimo de′Medici（1519～1574），1537年至1574年为佛罗伦萨大公。他这番话的出处未被考证。

〔3〕《旧约·约伯》，第2章第10节。

〔4〕　恺撒，即盖乌斯·尤利乌斯·恺撒（Gaius Julius Caesar，公元前100～公元前44），罗马末期军事统率，也称为恺撒大帝，公元前44年遭暗杀身亡。——译者注

〔5〕　珀尔提那克斯，即（Publius Elvius Pertinax，126～193），罗马皇帝，193年即位，即位87天后遭兵变，被士兵杀害身亡。——译者注

〔6〕　法兰西国王亨利三世（Henri III，原名Henri Alexandre，1551～1589），1589年在雅各宾修道院被一名多明我会修士雅克·克列孟（Jacques Clément，1567～1589）刺死。——译者注

论双亲与子女

双亲的欢愉是秘而不宣的，他们的悲伤和恐惧也是如此：他们既难以言述他们的欢愉，也不愿意去表达他们的悲伤和恐惧。子女既使得艰辛变得甘甜，也使得不幸更为苦痛：他们增添了双亲生活的负担，也减轻了他们关于死亡的忧惧。繁衍自身将血脉永存延续对于其他动物来说都是一样的，但名留青史、建立功勋和创造伟业则是人类特有的。的确不难看到有些最为卓越的成就和建树来自没有子嗣之人，在他们肉体的形象不能得到延续之处，他们寻求以精神形象的方式实现自身的延续。所以，没有子嗣的人实际上是最为关心后代的。那些作为家族创立者的人对于他们的子女也最为溺爱，他们不仅将子女视为他们家族的后裔，也将其视为他们事业的继承者；所以，在他们眼中，子女既是后代又是事业。

双亲倾注在他们的几个子女身上的情感在许多时候是不平均的，有时甚至是不合理的，在母亲身上表现得尤为突出。如所罗门所言：“智慧之子使父亲欢乐，愚昧之子叫母亲蒙羞。”〔1〕通常可见的是，在一个子孙满堂的家族中，一两个最年长的子女受到器重，最年幼者则被娇惯纵容，但处在中间的几个似乎处于被遗忘的境地，然而他们却往往成为最优秀的。父母在零用钱方面对他们的子女若太吝惜会犯有害的错误，会使得他们的子女感觉卑微，使之变得善于说谎，使之与小人为伍，使之在有了大量的钱财后容易贪欲无度。人们对他们的子女保持权威，而不是捂紧自己的钱包应是最为恰当的。人们（父母、教师、仆人皆如此）有一种并不明智的习惯，就是当兄弟们还在孩提时代就开始就创造和培养一种竞争的氛围，其结果往往是使得当弟兄们长大成人时，难以同心同德，并且使家庭分崩离析。意大利人将子女、侄甥和近亲的孩子都视为己出；只要这些孩子同出一门，是否为自己亲生他们并不看重。并且，完全可以说，在自然界也大抵有些类似的情况；有时我们看到侄子更像他的叔伯而不像他自己的父亲，这是血气使然。为父母者，应及早选择他们希望自己的子女将来从事的职业和所学的课程，因为孩子越长大就越不容易塑造。但是为人父母者也不应过多地将自己的想法强加于子女身上，认为自己最感兴趣的也是对自己子女最有益处的。但确实如果子女的性情和才能卓尔不群，不去妨碍其是较好的：一般来说如下的格言是很好的，“做最佳选择，若养成了习惯就会使之充满乐趣和轻松。”〔2〕弟兄之中的年幼者通常有这种幸运，但在弟兄之中的年长者被剥夺了继承权的时候，上述情况则很少发生甚至不会发生。

注释

〔1〕　《旧约·箴言》，第10章第1节。

〔2〕　来自毕达哥拉斯（Pythagoras，约公元前572～公元前497）的追随者的警句，出自普罗塔克（Plutarch，约公元46～120）的《论流放》，第8节（《道德小品》，602B）。原文为拉丁文。

论婚姻和独身

有妻子和子女的人已经向命运做了抵押，因为家室乃是大事业的累赘，不论是成就一番美德还是要践行一番恶举。毋庸置疑的，对于大众而言的一流作品和最善之举，都来自于那些独身或没有子女的人士，这些人士在情感上以大众为伴侣，其钱财也捐赠给了大众。然而，那些有子女的人去心系未来才是合情合理的，因为未来是他们最珍爱的抵押品将要送抵之处。有些人虽然过着独身的生活，他们的想法却不会超出自我之外，对未来也漠不关心。不但如此，有些人将妻子和子女视同一叠索费账单。更有甚者，也就是那些愚蠢而富有的悭吝人反而以没有子女为豪，因为他们认为这样在别人眼中他们就更为富有了。或许他们曾有耳闻这样的话：“这人可真是个大富翁”，但其他人却反驳说：“是啊，但是他有一堆儿女要照顾呢”，仿佛这会削减他的财力似的。但导致独身生活的最普通的原因是此类生活的自在清净，对于那些具有容易自我满足和幽默感心灵的人尤为如此。这类人对于任何约束都十分敏感，以至于他们会将自己的腰带和袜带也视为束缚和桎梏。独身的人是最可靠的朋友，最善良的主人，最令人满意的仆人；但并不总是最恭顺的臣民，因为他们很容易一走了之；并且几乎所有的逃亡者都属于这种没有牵挂的状况。独身生活对于教会中的人士是适合的，因为善举若先注满一池，则难以润泽四方。对于法官和地方官员来说则不一样，因为如果他们易被人左右且贪污受贿，你会发现一个仆人带来的祸害能比一个妻子带来的五倍有余。对于军人而言，我发现将军们在训导中通常让他的部下将妻儿铭记在心；并且我认为土耳其人对婚姻的普遍不尊使得他们粗鄙的士兵更为不堪。的确，妻子和子女是对人性的一种训练；而独身的人，虽然他们很多时候更为慷慨，因为他们在财务上支出不多，但从另一方面来说，他们也更为冷酷和硬心肠（去做审讯官倒是不错），因为他们的恻隐之心并不那么常常被触发。通常深爱妻子的丈夫是本性端庄、受风俗教化，从而忠贞不渝的，就如尤利西斯〔1〕被称道的：“他宁要糟糠之妻也不愿要长生不老”〔2〕贞洁的妇女常常骄傲自负，因为她们自认为保持操守就有此资本。若一个妇女认为她的丈夫是有才识的，那就是她尽自己为人妻的贞洁和顺从的最好维系条件之一，但如果她发现丈夫生性猜忌，她就不会那么做。妻子是青年人的情人，中年人的伴侣，老年人的看护。所以一个人若要结婚是不会缺乏理由的。然而有一个智者，当有人问他“人应该什么时候结婚”的时候，他这样回答：“青年人结婚还为时尚早，老年人则完全不该结婚。”常可见到的是，性格不好的丈夫往往有温柔贤惠的妻子；或许这使得当丈夫的性情和善时让人更觉可贵，又或者这类妻子以自己的耐性为荣。但有一点绝对错不了，那就是如果性格不好的丈夫是因为不顾亲友的意见而自己做的选择，她们就不得不去为自己的愚蠢行为付出代价。

注释

〔1〕　尤利西斯，即希腊神话中的英雄奥德修斯（Odysseus），设计了特洛伊战争中的木马攻城计，荷马史诗《奥德修斯》中描述奥德修斯曾漂流到一个海岛上，岛上的女神以长生不老的许诺挽留他。——译者注

〔2〕　出自西塞罗（Cicero，公元前106～前43）《论雄辩家》，第1章，第44节。原文为拉丁文。

论妒忌

除了爱情和妒忌之外，没有哪种情感能使人神魂颠倒和心醉神迷。爱情与妒忌都包含着强烈的愿望；它们能使自身、幻想和暗示轻易地结合；它们容易在眼神中流露，尤其是相关对象出现在眼前之时：如果存在类似的事物的话，这些便是导致迷醉的原因。我们在《圣经》中读到过将妒忌称为“凶眼”，并且占星家将星宿的不利影响称为“凶相”，为此妒忌的行为似乎总是被认为与目光灼灼伤人的样子相连。不仅如此，有一些爱探究的人注意到，当妒忌的目光最伤人的时候，正是被妒忌的一方最得意得志之时，这正使得妒忌之心越发显露了：除此之外，在这种时候被妒忌之人扬扬自得的情绪表露无遗，妒忌并非无风起浪。

将这些奇趣怪谈放在一边（虽然在适当的时候它们也并非不值得思考），我们将讨论什么样的人倾向于妒忌别人，什么样的人最容易招致别人的妒忌以及公妒与私妒有何区别。

自身缺乏美德的人在任何时候都妒忌别人的德行。因为人的心灵不是充盈着自身的善，便是塞满着别人的恶；而且缺乏自身之善者必将以他人之恶补之，然后无望能及他人美德的人，会通过贬损他人的幸福来寻求平衡。

多事好问之人通常是好妒忌的。因为费心费力打探别人许多事情不会是因为这些都与他自身有利害关系：因而他在看待别人的命运时，持有一种幸灾乐祸的心态那是必然的。只专注于自己的事物的人不会发现有多少值得妒忌的事情。因为妒忌是一种飘忽不定的激情，总是在街上游荡，而不肯守在家中：“没有好穷根究底而不心怀恶意的。”〔1〕

出身高贵之人对正在上升的新贵是充满妒意的。因为他们之间的距离被改变了，就像观察中的错觉，当别人向自己前进时，自己却以为自己向后退了。

残疾之人、宦官、老人和私生子是好妒忌的。因为他不太可能改变自己的处境，所以便尽其所能去损害别人……

对于那些经历了灾祸和不幸之后东山再起的人来说也有类似的情况存在。他们如同那些时代的弃儿一般，将他人所受到的伤害视为对自己痛苦的补偿。

那些渴望在各个方面出人头地的，过于浮躁和自负的人也每每富于妒忌之心。他们不缺乏能让他们心生妒意的事，因为在各类事情当中虽然他不可能事事都独占鳌头，但总有那么几件事情他比别人要稍胜一筹。这就类似于哈德良皇帝〔2〕的性格：他对诗人、画家和工匠都抱有极其嫉妒的心理，因其本人在这些人从事的工作中也有些过人的才华。

最后，近亲、办公室同事和一同被培养的人，在侪辈得到升迁提拔之时更容易犯妒忌的毛病。因为这种状况对他们而言，映衬出自己命运之不济，就像是对他们的谴责，并且无时无刻不在敲打着他们的记忆，使得他们更为留意这些发迹的侪辈；而且，言谈和名声的传播使得妒忌倍加炽热。该隐对他的兄弟亚伯的妒忌更为恶劣且恶毒，因为亚伯的贡品被视为更好的但没有人见证到。〔3〕以上这些就是关于那些容易产生妒忌的人的讨论。

再说说那些或多或少招致妒忌的人。首先，那些德高望重的人，当他们的德行累积越多，他们被妒忌的也越少。因为他们的好运气似乎是他们应得的，没有人会对债务被偿还感到嫉妒，但对获得报酬和慷慨大方却不然。其次，妒忌总是伴随着人与自身的比较，如果没有比较，就没有妒忌了；从而君王是不被人所嫉妒的，他的妒忌只能来自其他君王。然而被注意到的是，默默无名者显贵之初最容易招致妒忌，但随后妒忌却慢慢消减了；不过与之相反的是，功名在身的人的荣耀持续很久时最不容易摆脱妒忌。因为到了那个时候，虽然这些建功立业的人的美德依旧，但已不如当初那样闪亮，新出现的人物的光辉掩盖了他们的光芒，使其黯然失色。

出身名门者的成功不那么容易让人妒忌，因为这似乎与之家世是相称的。此外，他们的成功似乎对其好运也未增益；而妒忌就像阳光一样，照耀在河岸或陡坡上时比照耀在平地上要热得多。出于相同的原因，那些一步步升迁的人比起那些一步登天、一跃而飞黄腾达的人所遭受的妒忌要少一些。

那些将他们的荣誉与艰辛的付出、操劳忧虑和出生入死的经历相联系的人较少受到别人的嫉妒。因为人们觉得他们的这些荣誉来之不易，甚至有时还会对他们表示怜惜；而怜悯则可以将妒忌治愈。这是为什么人们可以观察到，越是老练稳重的政坛中人，在其身处高位、鼎盛之时，越是哀叹他们一生之不济，吟诵着“我们遭受了多少痛苦！”并非他们真有这样的感受，而仅仅是为了减缓妒忌的锋芒。不过这对于那些被强加事务在身的人尚可理解，但对于那些自己想要如此的人就不是这样了。因为没有什么比不必要地、雄心勃勃地热衷于各种事务更容易增长来自别人的妒忌。并且，没有什么比一个大人物能做到保护他所有下属的充分权利及杰出地位，更能够将妒忌的乌云驱散的。因为这意味着在他和他的敌人之间竖起了道道屏障。

那些最容易招致妒忌的，首当其冲地是那些对自己的好运带着极其傲慢无礼态度的人，如果他们不显示自己有多伟大，他们就会觉得不舒服，他们或通过外在赤裸裸地炫耀，或通过对抗和竞争来压倒别人成就自己。然而也有一些明智的人愿做妒忌祭坛上的献品，有时在与其自身干系不大的事情中有目的地忍受别人的倾轧和压制。纵然如此，如下也是事实，即如果对成就怀以一颗平常心并且处以一种开放的心态（不带有骄傲自大和虚荣自负的成分），比起那种使用欺诈狡猾手段的方式来说，招致的嫉妒要少。因为在后一种方式中，这种人简直就是在否定自己的好运，并且好像意识到自己不配拥有这样的运气；由此，他竟是教导别人来妒忌他了。

最后，作为对这一部分的结束语：我们在一开始已经了解到妒忌的行为与巫术有几分关联，那么要治愈妒忌，只有借助治愈巫术的良方；也就是将那“歹运”（人们所谓的）除去并加于别人身上。为此目的，一些比较聪明的大人物总是将一些人推到台前，从而将那些针对自身的妒忌被分散到那些人身上；有时妒忌旁落到臣子或仆人身上，有时落到同事或同伙身上，诸如此类；就此来说，总不缺乏某些生性暴烈的人，为了获得权利和地位，不惜一切代价。

现在，谈一谈公妒。在公妒中还有些好处，然而在私妒当中就一点儿好处也没有了。因为公妒乃是一种放逐，将那些势力增长得太快的人的风头压制住。从而公妒对于其他大人物也是一种约束，能使他们的行为不超越界限。

这种妒忌，在拉丁文中称为invidia，在现代的语言中用“公愤”一词表达，这我们将在处理叛乱的文章中进行讨论。它是一种在国家中容易传染的疾病。就像传染病一样，把那些本来健康的部分感染了，当妒忌传入了一个国家，它甚至会中伤最好的行为，并将其变为一种声名不佳的行为。然而如果企图将不齿的行为与善举相互混淆，胜算是很小的。那样做不过是显示了对妒忌的软弱和惧怕，会火上浇油越来越糟；通常就像传染病一样，如果你害怕它们，反而会被它们传染。

这种公妒似乎主要冲击身居要职的官员和大臣，而不是针对国王或是权制本身。但有一个确定的规则，如果对某位大臣的妒忌太盛，而该大臣本身引起妒忌的责任并不大，或者妒忌在某种意义上已经指向了一个国家中的所有大臣，那么这种妒忌（虽然是隐藏的）实际上是施加在国家身上的。这些就是关于公妒或不满，及其与前面最开始就讨论过的私妒的区别。

我们就触动妒忌的情感再说几句，与其他所有情感相较，这种情感是最为胡搅蛮缠和没完没了的。因为其他的情感都不过是偶尔有之。因此常言道：“妒忌从不休假”，因为它总是在影响某些人。此外还可以注意到的是，爱情和妒忌使人憔悴，而其他情感则不会这样，因为其他情感不像爱情和妒忌那样频繁连续。妒忌也是最恶劣的情感，并且是最堕落的情感，因此它是魔鬼的固有属性，魔鬼就是“那个夜间在麦子中播撒稗子的妒忌者”；〔4〕就像一直以来那样，妒忌狡猾地在黑暗中行事，对诸如麦子等好的东西造成损害。

注释

〔1〕　出自普劳图斯（Plautus，约公元前254～前184）的《斯提库斯》，第1章，第3节，第54段。原文为位丁文。

〔2〕　哈德良（Publius Aelius Traianus Hadrianus，76～138)，罗马帝国皇帝，117～138年在位。——译者注

〔3〕　该隐和亚伯是亚当和夏娃的儿子，他们都将自己的劳动成果献给上帝，在没有旁人的情况下上帝接受了亚伯的贡品，而上帝没有接受该隐的，该隐因嫉妒将亚伯骗杀。见《旧约·创世纪》，第4章。——译者注

〔4〕　《新约·马太福音》，第13章第25节。

论爱

相较人生而言，舞台从爱那里得益更多。因为在舞台上，爱从来就是喜剧的素材，有时也是悲剧的素材；但在生活中，爱带来的是灾祸，有时像希腊神话中那位用歌声诱惑水手的海妖，有时像是复仇女神。你能注意到，在一切伟大和杰出的人物（不论是在古代还是在今日，只要是为人们的记忆所铭记的）当中，没有谁是被爱这种强烈的情绪所导致癫狂的，这表明，伟大的灵魂和伟大的事业能将这种软弱的情感排斥在外。不过你可能会反驳说，曾执掌罗马帝国半壁江山的马克·安东尼，〔1〕以及曾为十人执政官之一的立法者阿庇乌斯·克劳狄乌斯〔2〕是这方面的例外：前者确实是沉溺于酒色之人，并且过着放纵无节制的生活，而后者却是一个严肃朴实和聪明的人。从而看起来（虽然并不多见）爱不仅可以进入坦荡的心胸，也可以遁入严格设防的心灵——如果看守不严的话。伊壁鸠鲁〔3〕曾说过一句不怎么高明的话，“我们每一个人充其量不过是别人的听众罢了”：〔4〕仿佛人类生来就应沉思天宇和各种高贵事物的造化，除了在一个渺小的偶像面前五体投地、俯首称臣之外别无作为，虽然不是作为口舌的奴隶（如野兽那样），但却是眼睛的臣子，眼睛被赋予人，是出于更高贵的目的。留意到这种情感的过度，以及这种情感对事物本性及其价值的违抗，是令人惊异的，因为：没完没了的夸张只在爱当中才显得打动人心，而在其他地方就什么都不是。这不仅仅是俗语而已，因为早就有一句话是这么说的：第一阿谀者就是人自己，与之比起来其他那些微不足道的阿谀者都还是有头脑的，毋庸置疑的，情人要比这第一阿谀者更为过分。因为一个骄傲自负的人无论能把自己荒谬地想成多么不可一世者，也比不上情人对自己的爱人所奉承谄媚的程度。所以曾有人说，“不可能既在爱中又保持明智”。〔5〕这种弱点也不仅仅是显露给旁观者，而不会显露给被爱的一方，其实在被爱者那里尤为明显，除非这爱是相互回应的。因为一条真实的规则是，爱从来都是通过两种方式得到回报的，或通过两情相悦，或通过内心秘而不宣的轻蔑。由此更多的人应如何提防这种情感，在这种情感中失去的不仅是其他的一切，更失去了自身……因为不论是谁，若对情爱过于痴迷，就会同时失去财富和智慧。爱这种情感在人有弱点的时候最容易泛滥成灾，也就是一个人十分春风得意或者非常困顿不幸之时（当然后一种情况是不那么容易见到的）；当这样的境况将爱的火焰点燃，就会让它燃烧得更为热烈，从而表明情爱不过是愚蠢的产物罢了。那些做得很好的人，如果他们不得不将情爱接纳，也仍能保持适度，并将情爱与他们生活的重要事务和行动完全分开；因为如果情爱一旦与事业混淆，它就会对人的运程产生不利的影响，使得人们无法忠实于自己的目标。我不知道为什么会是这样，也就是尚武之人总是容易为情爱所俘：我想这或许就像他们容易为杯盏所俘一样。因为危险通常需要以欢愉作为补偿。在人的本性当中，存在着爱他人的隐秘倾向和意向，这种隐秘的倾向和意向如果不能施于某人或某些人身上，便会自然而然地被播撒到众人身上，使人变得仁慈和宽厚；就像有时在修道士身上可看到的那样。夫妻之爱使人类繁衍生生不息；朋友之爱使人更完美；放荡不羁的爱使人堕落卑微。

注释

〔1〕　马克·安东尼（约公元前83～前30），罗马政治家和军事家。恺撒被刺后，他与屋大维（Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus，公元前63～14，又名奥古斯都）和雷必达（约公元前89～前13年）一起组成了后三头同盟，共同执掌罗马政权。公元前33年后三头同盟分裂，前30年马克·安东尼与埃及女王克娄巴特拉七世（约公元前70～约公元前30）一同自杀身亡。——译者注

〔2〕　阿庇乌斯·克劳狄乌斯，古罗马政治家，前451年～前449年统治罗马并负责立法的十人委员会成员之一。——译者注

〔3〕　伊壁鸠鲁（公元前341～前270）古希腊哲学家、无神论者，伊壁鸠鲁学派的创始人。——译者注

〔4〕　出自塞内加，《书信集》，第7篇第2节。

〔5〕　出自普布里乌斯·西鲁斯《格言》，第15条。原文为拉丁文。

论高位
身处高位的人是三重身份的仆从：君主或国家的仆从，名声的仆从，事务的仆从。所以他们是没有自由的，既没有个人的自由，也没有行动的自由，更没有时间的自由。匪夷所思的欲望致使人们在寻求权力的同时失去了自由；或者在寻求驾驭别人的权力时失去了支配自身的权力。升迁到高位是一个艰苦的过程，但人们却喜欢通过付出痛苦的代价换取更大的痛苦；这个过程有时是卑劣的，人们通过不光彩的手段去获得尊贵的地位。居于高位并不稳固，高位的倒退若不是地位崩塌，也至少是黯然失色，都是令人叹息的。“当你不再是你曾经所是，就没有了继续活下去的理由。”〔1〕不仅如此，人在他希望能引退的时候往往不能如愿以偿；然而在他有理由引退的时候他又不情愿，即便是上了年纪或忍受病痛的折磨需要退居二线，他们也不甘于离群索居：就像城里有些老人喜欢坐在他们家临街的门口，尽管这样让别人嘲笑他们已经一把年纪了。当然，大人物们需要去借助别人的看法使自己感觉幸福，因为如果只通过他们自己的感觉进行判断，他们就难以感受到幸福。但如果他们把自己的想法与其他人是如何看待自己的想法一致起来，他们会因为街谈巷议而感到高兴，即使在内心里或许他们是感到矛盾的。因为他们是那种对自己的不幸反应最迅速的人，虽然他们也是那种最后才发现自己过失的人。的确，那些正走鸿运的人对于自身就像陌生人一样，当他们为纷繁事务缠扰之时，根本无暇顾及自己的健康，不论是身体或是精神上的。“当一个行将就木之人，别人对他的状况比他自身还更为了解的时候，死亡对于他可谓突如其来”。〔2〕在高位时人既可以为仁从善也可以为非作歹，而后者却是招致诅咒的；因为对于为恶来说，最好的就是不要想去这样做，其次是不能这样去做。但从善的权力却是真正且合法的追求目标。因为善的想法，虽然被上帝所接受，但对于人来说也不过是比美梦稍稍强些罢了，如果不能诉诸行动的话；而行善没有权力和地位作为一定的有利条件是不能实行的。功绩与善行是人行动的目标，并且在内心里能认同这一点才能使人余生有所成就。因为如果一个人能参与上帝的剧场，那么他同样可以参与上帝的安息。“于是上帝转身看他手造的一切，看见它们都是很好的”，〔3〕那么接着就是安息日了。履行你的职责时，应将楷模放在自己心中，因为仿效就仿佛一整套箴言。过了一段时间后，将你自己摆在楷模面前，以此严格地考察你最初的所作所为是否有不妥之处。不能忽视那些同样职位的人曾经做得不好的例子；不是要通过斥责别人的过失抬高自己，而是要提醒自己避免犯同样的错误。从而你在进行改革时，不要带着对前一时期和人物的愤慨或纠正的心态，而是把它视为在前人的基础上开创先例的事业。将事物还原至其最初的状况，并观察它们是在哪方面如何退化的，但仍然向两个不同的时代寻求忠告：向古代追问什么是最好的；向现代探询什么是最合适的。试图将你的行为举止规律起来，这样人们能事先预知什么会发生；但不要过于绝对和专断；也不要在违背了自己原则的时候把原因解释得太清楚。保持你的位置所拥有的权力，但不要引发管辖权上的争议，宁可不声不响地实际掌有这种权力，也不要去声张和质疑这种权力。同样的，维护下属相应的权力，并且将作为主要的指导者为荣而不是事必躬亲。包容和征求涉及你职务执行的帮助和建议，不要把那些给你带来信息的人当做爱管闲事的人驱赶，而是应该乐意接纳他们。当权者的弱点有四类：拖延、腐败、粗暴和易被左右。就拖延来说，应让人们容易接近；遵守时间的约定；将手头的事情尽快地完成；将必要之事放置在首位，避免杂事的掺杂。就腐败而言，不仅要将自己约束好，同时对你的手下要严加管教，以制止受贿，也要对那些请求者表明态度，以杜绝行贿。培养正直的品性可以约束自身和下属；一旦这种正直的品性宣扬开来，并且表明对贿赂的憎恶，即是对那些企图行贿者的告诫。并且，不仅要避免犯腐败的过失，也要避免被认为腐败的嫌疑。不管是谁，如果被发现是反复无常的，并且发生了明显的改变却缺乏明显的理由，那么就容易被别人猜疑为贪污之人。从而，当你改变自己的观点或行为方式时，永远记得一定要将此事坦然地公布于众，并且同时将促使你改变的理由也宣布出来；千万不要偷偷摸摸地去做改变。一个仆从或一个你欣赏的人，如果被纳入你的圈子里，而没有其他明显值得敬重的理由，通常会被认为是有秘不可宣的贪污门道。至于粗暴，它是不满的不必要原因：严厉产生畏惧，粗暴造成仇恨。甚至来自当权者的斥责也应该是严肃的，但不应该是辱骂嘲弄。至于易为人左右，它比贿赂更为糟糕。因为贿赂只是偶尔发生；但如果求情和无用的关系网将一个人牵制，他就从此陷入泥沼而难以脱身。正如所罗门所说：“看情面是不好的，因为这样的人是会为了一块面包而枉法的。”〔4〕有一句极为真切的古语说，“地位显示了人的本色。”〔5〕而地位显示了有些人是属于更好的那一类，也显示了有些人是属于更糟糕的那一类。“如果他没有做过皇帝，大家都会认为他是适合做皇帝的”，这是泰西塔斯〔6〕对加尔巴〔7〕的评价〔8〕；但对维司巴西安〔9〕的评价，泰西塔斯说，“维司巴西安是因为居于皇帝之位而变得更善的唯一一个皇帝”；〔10〕不过前者指的是才能的充分，后者指的是风度和情感。一个人的荣耀增进了，是此人可敬和慷慨精神的确切证据。因为荣耀乃是，或者应该是，德行之所在；而就像在自然界当中，事物移向它们的位置时是猛烈的，而待在自己的位置上时则是平静的。所以德行在心怀抱负时是显著的，而在当权时则安稳平静。所有升至高位的途径都像是蜿蜒曲折的楼梯；如果存在着派系的分别，当一个人向上升迁时加入一方是不错的选择，而在他已经身居高位时应保持平衡中立。公平和温和地对待你的前任的名声；因为如果你不这样做的话，它就是一笔当你卸任之时不得不偿还的债务。如果你有同僚，要敬重他们，宁可在他们不希望被召见的时候召见他们，而不是在他们有理由被召见的时候将其拒之门外。不要在谈话和私人回复请求者时对你的职位过于敏感和时时放在心上；而是宁可让别人说，“在执行职务时，他完全就是另一个人”。

注释

〔1〕　出自西塞罗，《友人书信集》第7卷，第3篇第4节。原文为拉丁文。

〔2〕　出自塞内加，《梯厄斯忒斯》，第401－403页。原文为拉丁文。

〔3〕　出自《创世纪》第1章，第31节。原文为拉丁文。

〔4〕　出自《旧约·箴言》，第28章第21节。

〔5〕　这非常可能是出自希腊七贤之二的梭伦（Solon）和庇塔库斯（Pittacus）的一句格言。

〔6〕　泰西塔斯（Publius Cornelius Tacitus，约56～120），古罗马著名的历史学家、文学家和演说家，元老院议员。——译注

〔7〕　加尔巴，即塞尔维乌斯·苏尔皮基乌斯·加尔巴（Servius Sulpicius Galba，公元前3～69），罗马帝国皇帝，69年即位，当年即被杀害。——译者注

〔8〕　出自泰西塔斯的《历史》，第I卷第49章。原文为拉丁文。

〔9〕　维司巴西安，即提图斯·弗拉维乌斯·维斯帕西亚努斯（Titus Flavius Vespasianus，9～79），罗马皇帝，69年即位。——译者注

〔10〕　出自泰西塔斯的《历史》，第I卷第50章。原文为拉丁文。

论善与本性之善

我所采取的“善”的含义，就是有益于人的幸福，也就是希腊人称之为“爱人”；而“人道”一词用来表述它就有些分量不足。我将“爱人”称为“善”，而将天然的倾向成为“本性之善”。在心灵的所有美德和品质中，“善”是最为崇高的，是上帝的品性；如果没有这种品性，人就是庸庸碌碌、为恶为害、卑鄙可怜的躯壳，比虫虱高不了几分。“善”符合神学上德性之仁慈，并且没有过度之说，而只有错误。对权力的过度渴望导致天使折断了翅膀从天堂坠落；对知识的过度渴求使人堕落；但对于仁慈来说，没有所谓的过度，天使或人都不会因为仁慈而受到危险。对善的倾向被深深烙印在人的本性之中，就这种深刻的程度来说，如果这种倾向不为人所拥有，就要趋向其他生灵：就像在土耳其人那里可看到的，虽然他们是残忍的民族，然而他们对牲畜是和善的，对狗儿和鸟儿也会施舍；布斯拜洽斯〔1〕曾记述说，一个信奉基督教的少年在君士坦丁堡试图以硬撑开一只长喙鸟的喙为乐，这使其差点葬身于人们投掷的石块之下。善或仁慈的美德也确实会犯错误。意大利人有一句不礼貌的谚语说，“他如此之好，以至于他一无是处”。作为意大利的博学之人的一分子，尼古拉斯·马基雅维利，〔2〕也自信地将其诉诸笔端，而且几乎是用非常清晰的语言表达的，他说：“基督教把人变成鱼肉，贡献给那些专横无道的人。”〔3〕他所说的，的确在于没有哪种法律或宗教派别或思想观念像基督教信仰那样对“善”如此颂扬的。从而，为了同时避免诽谤和危险，对“善”这种如此优秀的习惯会导致的错误有清醒的认识就是完全必要的。在别人身上发掘善的品质，但不要被他们的外表和个人好恶所束缚，因为那样会容易为人左右或软弱屈从，这使得诚实正直的人的心灵被桎梏……上帝的例子给我们真切的教训：“他降雨以义人，也给不义的；叫日头照好人，也照歹人”；〔4〕但他不将财富或光辉的荣耀以及美德平等地泽被于每一个人。普通的好处应惠及所有人，但特殊的福利则应有所选择地施与。并且我们应谨防在临摹的时候把原型损毁，因为神学认为我们对自己的爱是原型，而我们对邻居的爱是对这种原型的仿效。“去变卖你所有的，分给穷人，并且来跟从我”；〔5〕但除非你要来跟随我，否则不要把你拥有的都变卖掉；也就是说，除非在可以使用非常少的钱财做非常多的事情那方面你赋有天职，否则对支流的灌注会使得源泉枯竭。为正确理由所引导的善的习性是存在的；而同时在一些人的本性当中也存在着作为善的对立面的本性的恶毒以及对这种恶毒的倾向。因为有些人的本性就不与人为善。这种恶毒当中较轻的类型变为一种执拗或刚愎顽固的个性，或是喜于与人作对的倾向，或是难以相处的性格等等；但较重的类型，就变为妒忌和纯粹的恶意中伤。这样的人，当别人处于不幸之时，在某种程度上，正是感觉良好，并且还不断地火上浇油唯恐天下不乱：还比不上舔舐麻风病人拉扎勒斯疮口的那些狗儿，〔6〕而是像那些围绕着暴露的伤口嗡嗡直叫的苍蝇一般；“愤世嫉俗者”，惯于将人引向自缢的树枝，但在他们的园子里却连供人自缢的树都没有一棵，像泰门那样。〔7〕这样的性情是人类本性的极大错误，然而却是造就伟大政治最合适不过的材料；就像弯曲的木料一样，用于制造注定要颠簸的船只是很合适的，而对于建造稳固坚实的房屋则不合适。善的作为和表现有许多种：如果一个人对异乡人亲切温和而彬彬有礼，那显示出他是世界的公民，并且他的心与其他陆地并不是隔绝开来的，而是与之相连接的大陆。如果他对别人的困难抱有同情之心，那表现他的心就像一棵珍贵的树木，它从自己的伤口中奉献出能给人疗伤的药膏。如果他能轻易地原谅和宽恕别人的过失，那说明了他的心灵是扎根在高于伤害的地方，所以他不会被伤害所击中。如果他对微小的获益也心存感激，那表明他重视的是人心，而不是那些其他无用的方面。但首要的，如果他有圣保罗的完美，即他为了弟兄们获得拯救而不惜被基督诅咒〔8〕，那就显示出一种天赐的本性，并且是一种与基督本身相一致的本性。

注释

〔1〕　佛兰德学者和驻土耳其大使，逝于1592年。

〔2〕　意大利政治哲学家，著有《君主论》等。——译者注

〔3〕　马基雅维利《论李维》，第2卷第2章。

〔4〕　出自《马太福音》，第5章第45节。

〔5〕　出自《马可福音》，第10章第21节。

〔6〕　出自《路加福音》第16章，拉扎勒斯是一个躺在地主家门口的麻风病人，他从地主那里没有得到施舍，只有狗儿来舔舐他的疮口。——译者注

〔7〕　雅典的泰门，以作为愤世嫉俗者而闻名，他宣告说因为他准备将他园子里的一棵树砍掉，而这棵树曾有许多人在上面吊死过，所以想要自杀的人请从速。——译者注

〔8〕　《新约罗马书》，第9章，第3节。

论游历

游历对年轻人来说是教育的一部分；对于年长者而言，是经验的一部分。在尚未学习过一门语言之前到某个国家旅行，是去上学而不是去游历。青年人在家庭教师的带领下或在忠诚仆人的陪伴下进行游历，我是非常赞同的；家庭教师或仆人通晓当地的语言，或曾经到过当地，就能告诉青年人在这些要去的国家中什么是值得去看的，什么人他们要去结交，这些地方可以提供什么样的锻炼和训练。因为若不是这样，青年人就像是蒙住脑袋去到这些地方，在国外所能看到的也微乎其微。一件奇怪的事情是，在航海旅行中，人们虽然除了天空和大海什么都看不到，却常常写下日记；但在陆地的旅行中，可以观察到如此之多的事物，却往往大部分被人们所忽略；仿佛偶然的际遇比观察到的事物更值得记录。所以书写日记还是有必要的。游历中应当观览考察的事物是：国君的宫廷，尤其是当他们接见外国使节的时候；仲裁法律的法庭，尤其是法官开庭审讯的时候；教堂和修道院，以及其中陈列的历史遗迹；城市及镇子里的城墙和堡垒，以及港口和泊船之地；古迹和废墟；图书馆；大学、论辩和讲演——如果那里有的话；航运业和海军；大城市附近高大美丽的建筑和庭院；兵工厂；军械库；弹药库；交易所；国库；仓库货栈；马术训练、击剑以及士兵的操练等等；喜剧，上流人士常常流连之所；珠宝和华丽服饰的荟萃；私人收藏和珍奇物品；以及作为总结，在他们游历所到之处任何值得纪念的事物。家庭教师和仆人应对所有的这些都事先进行过详细的考察。至于凯旋庆典、化装舞会、节日盛宴、婚礼、葬礼、死刑的执行，等等这些方面，则不需要人记在心上；虽然也不至于全然被忽略掉。如果你让一个青年人将其游历局限在一个小小的地方，并且只给他较短的时间去获取大量的东西，这就是你所需要做的。首先，如前所述，他应当在去游历之前略通当地的语言。然后，就像之前谈到的那样，他应该有一位了解那个国家的家庭教师或仆人。让他带着一些描述将游历国家的卡片或书籍，这些将会是有助于他探索的好钥匙。让他要坚持写日记；让他不要在一座城市或市镇中停留过久；时间的长短视此地所具有的价值而定，但不能太久；而且，在他居留于一个城市或市镇时，让他变换自己居住的地方，从市区的一端搬到另一端，这样才能认识更多的人。他应该使自己与同乡保持一定的距离，不要与他们为伍，并且在能结交他所游历之处国民的地方用餐。当他从一个地方去往另一个地方时，应使之设法获得推荐，让他能够无论去哪里都能获得当地名流的款待，能够使之使用这种有利条件去浏览和了解他所想知道的。如此他就能在他有限的游历中获益匪浅。至于在游历中应结交的人，最有益的就是与那些各国使节的秘书和雇员结交，因为虽然是在一个国家中游历，他应该获取到更多国家的经验。他也应该参见和拜访各类著名人士，也就是那些在国外也享有盛名者，从而他能够辨别现实生活与名望之间是否相符。对于争吵，他们应该小心谨慎地避免。争吵一般都是为了情妇、为了杯中之物、为了座次和为了言语不和而起。并且，游历之人应在与性格暴躁的和好争斗的人相处时小心谨慎，因为他们会将他卷入他们自己的纷争中。当游历者返回家乡时，不要让他将曾经游历过的国家抛在脑后，而是应与他所结交的人中最有价值的那些通过书信保持联络。让他的游历经历体现在他的言谈中，而不是体现在他的服饰或举止；并且在他的言谈中，让他更多地在回答中审慎地用词，而不是迫不及待地夸夸其谈；让大家看到他不是以外国的那些风俗将自己本国的风俗取代，而仅仅是将他在国外学到的某种最好的事物输入〔1〕到自己国家的风俗中。

注释

〔1〕　种植。

论君权

所欲者甚少而所惧者甚多是一种可怜的状态。而对于君王来说这是非常普遍的情形，他们身处地位和权力的顶端，却缺乏渴求之物，这使得他们的心灵更为萎靡；与此同时，他们又有许多危险和不祥的想象密布在心头，这就使得他们的心智更为不清醒。这是致使《圣经》说“君心难测”〔1〕的一个原因。因为大量的猜忌，以及缺乏一个占主导地位的欲望，其他欲望得不到统领和规整，这会使得任何一个人的心都难以捉摸和把握。因此，君王们同样常常为自己制造欲望，并将他们的心思放在一些玩物上：有时是一座建筑；有时是要建立一种秩序；有时是要提拔一个人；有时是要拥有某一项艺术或技艺之长——就像尼禄爱好弹奏竖琴，图密善精于弓箭射术，康茂德善于骑术，卡拉卡拉喜欢驾驭战车，〔2〕等等都是如此。这似乎不可思议，对于那些不了解如下道理的人来说，也即人的心灵往往因为得益于一些细枝末节的事情而感到愉悦和振奋，这种愉悦和振奋比身处高位带来的还多。我们也能看到，在即位之初是幸运的征服者的君王们，后来无限地推进他们的战果是不太可能的，但他们往往被自己曾经的成就所局限，在位晚年变得迷信和阴郁；如亚历山大大帝、〔3〕戴克里先〔4〕和被我们铭记在心的查理五世〔5〕等等。因为已经习惯于不停地向前，而一旦发现停顿下来时，就从他的爱好中跌落，变得不再是曾经的自己了。

现在谈谈君权的调和之道：这是难以实现和保持的事情，因为调和与失调都是由对立面组成的。但将对立面交互交融是一回事，而将对立面相互交换又是另一回事。阿波尼罗对维斯佩西安所说的话就充满了极好的教训。维斯佩西安问他说：“尼禄覆灭的原因是什么？”他回答到：“尼禄虽然在竖琴的调试和弹奏方面是非常擅长的；但在统治方面，他有时把琴弦调得太高，有时又任其太低而不顾。”〔6〕没有什么比在权力上过分压制和过度松懈，这种不平衡和不合适宜的交替对权威的破坏更甚，这是肯定的。

一件事实是，所有近代讨论君王事务的学问，都热衷于分析如何转移和改变那些逼近君王的危险和灾祸，而不是探究那些能使君王保持洒脱的坚实和稳固的方针。但这种做法不过是试图做命运的主人罢了。君王们应该警惕，他们要小心谨防为自己所疏忽和坐视不管而酝酿的麻烦：没有人能禁止火星的迸发，也没人能辨出这些火星来自何方。在君王的事业中，困难重重并且难以克服，但最大的困难仍然来自他们的内心。因为对于君王而言（泰西塔斯曾说），有矛盾的欲望是非常普遍的：“帝王们的欲望大部分都是热烈的，同时是互不相容的。”〔7〕因为权力的谬误在于，想要拥有结果，却不能忍受手段的应用。

君王需要打交道的包括他们的邻国，他们的妻子，他们的子女，他们的高级教士或神职人员，他们的贵族，他们次一级的贵族或绅士，他们的商人，他们的百姓，以及他们的战士；如果不小心仔细和慎重的话，在这些打交道的过程中都有可能产生危害。

首先就他们的邻国来说：没有现成的普遍规则可以获取（因为情况是如此多变），但有一点是应该把握的。这就是，作为一国之君应该保持警觉，不要让他们的邻国势力增长到足以威胁到自己国家的安全（不管这些邻国是通过领土的扩张，还是通过贸易的包围，或是通过外交辞令，以及其他的方法）。要预见这种情况并防止这种情况发生，普遍的做法是设立一个委员会。英格兰国王亨利八世、法兰西国王弗朗西斯一世和皇帝查理五世三人在位执政的时期，就有这样的相互制约机制，他们三者当中没有谁能多占一寸土地，如果这样的事情发生，其他两个国王会立刻进行协调，或使用结盟的方式，或者如果需要的话，使用战争的方式；总之无论如何不会在利益面前采取不作为的态度。就像那不勒斯的国王费迪南多、洛伦佐·美狄斯和卢多维克斯·斯福尔扎——前者是佛罗伦萨的统治者，后者是米兰的统治者，他们所结成的同盟所起到的作用那样（即被奎恰迪尼称为意大利的安全保障）。一些经院学者所持有的一种不足取的观点认为：发起一场战争只有基于先前的伤害和挑拨才是正当的。这是毋庸置疑的，但对即将发生的危险的惧怕，虽然这即将到来的危险还未造成严重的打击，也是战争的合法原因。

就他们的妻子来说，有许多残忍的例子。里维亚因为把自己的丈夫毒杀而臭名昭著；苏里曼的妻子罗克塞拉纳，就是毁灭了著名的苏丹穆斯塔法王子的人，并且在王室中为所欲为，干扰王位继承；〔8〕英国国王爱德华二世的皇后〔9〕在废黜她丈夫的王位并将其谋杀的事件中要负最主要的责任。这种类型的危险是需要提防的，尤其是在君王的妻子密谋将自己亲生的孩子立为王位继承人的时候，或者她们有通奸行为的时候。

就他们的子女来说：发生在他们身上的类似悲剧不胜枚举。并且一般而言，父王对他们的子女一旦开始猜疑，结果总是不幸的。穆斯塔法的毁灭（我们之前提到过的）对于苏里曼统治的延续是致命的打击，继而土耳其王位的继任从苏里曼至今都被怀疑有猫腻并且已经落入别的血统之手；因为塞里姆斯二世被认为是私生子。克里斯普斯是一位难得的性格温和的年轻王子，被他的父亲——君士坦丁大帝亲手摧毁了，也造成了君士坦丁王室的致命伤：因为君士坦丁大帝的两个儿子君士坦丁和康斯坦斯，都死于暴力冲突；而他的另一个儿子君士坦提乌斯，结局没那么惨烈，他确实是死于疾病，但也是在尤里安与之兵刃相向之后因病而亡的。〔10〕马其顿的菲利普二世的儿子德米特里厄斯，他的毁灭给其父王带来报应，使之在悔恨中死去。〔11〕这样的事例还有很多，但几乎没有做父亲的能从这种不信任的关系中得到好处的；除非做儿子的公然举兵反抗父王，就如塞里姆斯一世与巴杰扎特对抗，以及英格兰国王亨利二世与他的三个儿子之间的对决。

就他们的高级神职人员来说，当这些人踌躇满志不可一世的时候，就会产生危害。安塞姆和托马斯·贝克特时代就是如此，他们两位都是坎特伯雷的大主教，都试图以手中的圭杖与君王的权杖相抗衡；但他们都遇到了强硬和骄横的国王——威廉·鲁夫斯、亨利一世以及亨利二世。〔12〕危害并非来自这种抗衡的情形，而是当这种情形有外国的权势作为支撑时，或者是教士职位的产生和当选不是通过国王的册封或特别的指派，而是通过民众实现的时候。

至于贵族，应与他们保持适当的距离；对贵族进行压制虽然会使得君王在权力上更为不受限制，但却不那么安全，并且使得君王去实现他的愿望变得不那么容易。我在关于英国国王亨利七世的历史著作中曾经提及，亨利七世对他的贵族进行压制，从而导致的后果就是，在他统治期间充满了各种难题和动乱，因为贵族们虽然仍然效忠于他，但他们并不协助他完成他的事业。所以实际上他不得不自己去做所有的事情。

就次一级贵族来说：作为一个分散的群体，他们倒是不会产生太多的危害。他们有时会高谈阔论，但通常是只说不做；此外，他们与地位更高的贵族之间形成了一种力量的抗衡，使得后者力量的扩张不至于过于强劲；最后，他们在老百姓当中具有最直接的影响力，在调和大众骚乱时他们的作用可以发挥到最大。

就商人来说：他们是门静脉，如果商人们不活跃兴盛，一个王国就会空有良好的四肢，而血管里却没有血液流淌，并且得不到什么滋养。向他们征收税费和税款对君王的财政收入没有明显的好处，因为虽然在百户区〔13〕那里获利了，他却在郡那里失利；个别的税率增加了，但贸易的总额度却反而下降。

就平民来说，平民基本上不会有太大的危害，除非他们当中出现了伟大的、具有强大影响力的领袖，或者除非你对他们的宗教思想、风俗、谋生手段进行干涉，那就有可能带来危害。

就战士而言，当他们作为一个整体生活和存在，并且习惯于无功受禄，是一种危险的状态；关于这方面，我们可以看看土耳其的近卫步兵〔14〕和罗马禁卫队〔15〕的例子。不过，对战士进行训练，将其部署在各地，由几位指挥官进行管辖，并且不要给予赏赐，这是防御的需要，没有什么危害。

君王就像天空中闪烁的星辰，会带来福运也会招致灾祸，他们拥有许多的景仰，但疲惫而不得休憩。所有关于君王的戒律实际上包含在如下两句应铭刻在心的话语中：要记住你是一个人，并且要记住你是一个神或者神的代表。前者约束他们的权力，后者约束他们的意志。

注释

〔1〕　出自《旧约·箴言》，第25章第3节。

〔2〕　尼禄逝于公元68年，图密善逝于公元96年，康茂德逝于192年，卡拉卡拉逝于217年，他们都是罗马皇帝；都以他们的残暴统治臭名昭著。——译者注

〔3〕　亚历山大大帝（公元前356～前323），即马其顿国王亚历山大三世。他用13年时间建立起东起印度河、西至尼罗河与巴尔干半岛的大帝国。——译者注

〔4〕　罗马皇帝，死于313年，被认为是第一位自愿让出自己权力的君王（他让位于305年）。

〔5〕　德国（以及圣罗马）皇帝，逝于1558年，他在1556年禅让王位。——译者注

〔6〕　出自菲勒斯特拉托斯的《阿波尼罗传》第5章，第28节。

〔7〕　不是出自泰西塔斯，而是出自塞勒斯特《朱古达战争》第113章，第1节。原文为拉丁文。

〔8〕　苏里曼大帝（或称塞里姆斯一世），是土耳其苏丹，于1520年至1566年在位，在王子的继母罗克塞拉纳的煽动下将自己的长子穆斯塔法置于死地。罗克塞拉纳自己的一个儿子巴耶塞特（或巴杰扎特）因叛乱而被苏里曼处死。苏丹之位被罗克塞拉纳的另一个儿子所继承，即塞里姆斯二世，塞里姆斯二世看来好像没有继承任何苏里曼的相貌特征或性格特点。——译者注

〔9〕　安茹的伊莎贝拉，逝于1358年。——译者注

〔10〕　罗马皇帝君士坦丁大帝，在位时间为306年至337年，在326年将他的儿子克里斯普斯判处死刑。在君士坦丁大帝去世时，帝国被他的三个儿子瓜分：君士坦丁二世在试图将其兄弟康士坦斯（培根称为康斯坦斯的那位）推翻的过程中被杀害；康士坦斯被自己人谋杀于睡梦之中；而君士坦提乌斯361年死在在他举兵征伐尤里安的路上，当时尤里安已经拥兵称王。——译者注

〔11〕　德米特里厄斯是马其顿菲利普五世的儿子，被其兄弟王太子珀修斯莫须有地指控为叛国罪。他的父亲于公元前179年将其杀害，培根在这里将菲利普五世与菲利普二世混淆了，菲利普二世是亚历山大大帝的父亲。——译者注

〔12〕　安塞姆，死于1109年，因为坚定地维护神职人员的权力，反对威廉·鲁夫斯和亨利一世的世俗权威，曾两次被流放。在与亨利二世发生了剧烈的争执后，托马斯·贝克特于1170年在坎特伯雷大教堂中被谋杀。——译者注

〔13〕　郡一级往下再划分出的行政区划。

〔14〕　土耳其皇帝的侍卫。

〔15〕　罗马皇帝的侍卫。

论狡猾

我们将狡猾视作一种邪恶或不正当的聪明。在狡猾的人和聪明的人之间存在着巨大的不同，这不同不仅仅是在是否正直这一点上，还在能力方面。有人能理牌，但玩牌玩得不好；有些人很善于游说拉票以及结党营私，但在其他方面却表现平平。再则，善解人意是一回事，而通晓事理又是另一回事：因为许多人对人的性情把握得十分透彻，但在实际事务中的能力却不怎样。一个人如果只是把心思放在研究人这上边，而不是对书本进行研读就会变成这样。这样的人更适合去与人打交道，而不适合去提供建议和做计划，并且他们也仅仅是在他们的地盘上才能发挥良好：让他们面对新的环境，他们就不那么容易做到了；所以那条将愚昧之人和智者区分开来的规则所表达的：“把他们赤裸裸地放置到陌生人当中，你就能区分出来”，〔1〕对他们几乎不适用。因为这些狡猾的人就像经营小百货的杂货商人，所以不妨把他们店铺中的商品一一陈列出来。

狡猾之术，一点在于交谈时用你的眼睛紧盯着你的交谈对象，就像耶稣会信徒被教导的那样；因为许多贤人心中的秘密会透过他们的面容展现出来。不过在这样做的时候，有时应矜持地低垂你的眼帘，耶稣会信徒也是这样做的。

另一点狡猾之术在于，当你有急事需要马上办理，你通过勾起别的话题，使你所要求助的人感到心情放松和愉悦，从而他就不会那么清醒地做出反对。我知道有一位议政官员兼书记官从来不用需要签署的文件直接烦扰英国的伊丽莎白女皇，他总是将女皇先引入一些关于国事的讨论中，然后她对那些文件就不会那么在意了。

就像要获得出其不意的效果往往是通过迅速的行动那样，当对方在匆匆忙忙之中，难以花时间静下来特地考虑你所提议的事情时，往往能达成效果。

如果一个人想要阻挠一件事情，而这件事情他唯恐别人会采取敏捷而有效的行动，他最好假装非常赞同此事而自己把事情提出，但提出的方式却正与目的相反，并用足以将此事难以成行的方式推动事态的发展。

在很有交谈的兴致时，在谈话中间忽然打住，仿佛要自我收敛，这足以勾起交谈对象的更大兴趣，使他想了解更多。

并且，当情况的知晓好像是从你那里询问得来的时候，效果要比你主动地讲述出来要更好；你可以设置一个产生问题的诱饵，也即显示出一副与你平时惯于展示的面容大相径庭的面部表情；其目的在于给对方一个机会询问是什么事情造成了这种改变……

至于那些棘手和令人不愉快的事情，较为合适的处理办法是让那些在发言权上无足轻重的人打破僵局，进而再让那些有分量的人装成偶然的样子加入问题的探讨中，这样他会被问起关于其他人发言中的问题，从而把话题打开……

一个人如果不想把自己卷入某些事情当中时，一个狡猾的办法就是借用街谈巷议的名义；比如说，“人们都是怎样说的，或者，现在大家都如何地谈论这个事情”。

我知道有这样一位仁兄，当他写信时，总是把那最最重要的事情写在信件的附言里头，而不是写在正文当中，就仿佛这事情不过是顺带说一下罢了。

我还认识另外一位先生，当他发表讲演的时候，他总是将他最想谈论的事情略过，而继续说其他的，绕去绕来最后才回到最想谈论的主题上，似乎他差点儿把这件事情忘记了一般。

一些人有时装成很意外的样子，仿佛与那些他们要拜托的人是偶然相遇，并且相遇之时被发现手中正握着一封信，或是正在做一些他们自己不习惯做的事情；这样他们就能够把自己放置在那些他们想要表述的事情上，使对方能够自然而然地问起这些事情。

狡猾的招数还有一个就是以一个人的名义先无意中说出一些话来，这些话别人会听了学去和使用，随即就可以对此进行利用了。我知道伊丽莎白女王在位时，有两个人为书记官的职位相互竞争，但仍然彼此之间保持着适当的距离，也会就此事务进行商议；他们其中的一位说，在君主制衰落之时担任书记官一职是甚为棘手的事情，所以他对此不是那么有兴趣。另外一位立即拣取了这些话，并在自己的朋友中散布说，在君主制衰落之时，他没理由去渴望担任书记官的职务。第一个说出这种话的人便抓住这个机会，想方设法地把这个事情送到女皇耳边，而听到君主制衰落，女王感到非常愤怒，从此她不会再听另外一个的禀报了。

有一种狡猾，在英国我们称为“锅里翻猫”，也就是说，当一个人向别人说了什么，他把这事情说成是别人讲给他听的。说实话，当这样的事情在两个人之间发生，要弄清楚谁是第一个说出这事情的人，可不是那么容易……

有些人准备了许许多多的传说和故事，他们能把他们想要含沙射影的事情统统都用传说和故事的形式包装起来，这一方面使得他们不必因为说了什么而面临危险，另一方面也使得别人更乐于去传播这些事情。

一个狡猾的好点子是，用自己的语言和建议将想要获得的答案提供出来，这就使得对方不那么固执己见。

令人奇怪的是，一些人在讲出他们想要说的某些东西时，会等待很长的时间，会绕很大的弯子，会拉扯许多其他无关的事情最后才切入正题。这是需要极大耐心的事情，然而用处不可谓不大。

一个突然的、大胆的和未曾预料到的问题通常会使一个人感到惊讶，而使之展开内心的一面。就像一个改了名字的人，在圣保罗大教堂里走着，另一个人突然在他身后叫出他的真实姓名，他难保不会立刻掉头去看看的。

但是这些零星货件和狡猾的方子是无穷无尽的，不过给它们列个单子倒不失为一件好事，因为如果在一个国家里一个狡猾的人能冒充贤人的话，真是没有什么会比这造成的祸害更甚。

不过确实有一些人，他们知晓事务的来龙去脉，却不能把握住其要点所在；就像一座房屋有便捷的楼梯和门户，却没有一个像样的房间一样。从而，你可以看见，他们能在结论中找到许多纰漏之处，但缺乏检验或者分析原因的能力。然而通常他们却善于利用自己不擅长之处，让人认为他们具有管理的才智。一些人将自己的地位建立在对别人的诽谤之上，并且（如我们现在所说的）依靠捉弄他人，而不是依靠自身在为人处世过程中的可靠。所罗门说的就是如此：“智者自慎其步骤，愚者转向欺骗他人。”〔2〕

注释

〔1〕　这句话为亚里士提帕斯所言，出自第欧根尼·拉尔修的《著名哲学家》第2章，第73节。原文为拉丁文。

〔2〕　出自《旧约·箴言》，第14章第8节和第15章。原文为拉丁文。

论利己的学问

蚂蚁是一种很会为自己打算的聪明的动物，但在果园和花园中却是不受欢迎的东西。同样的，那些只关心自己的人对于大众来说没有什么益处。在为私和为公之间应有清晰的区隔，并且应自求问心无愧，对他人也应言而有信，对你的君王和国家尤其应该如此。一个人行为若以其自身为中心，那是十分糟糕的。地球牢牢地以自身为中心是确实的事情，然而天穹中的其他物体却是围绕着非自我的中心运动的，同时给这个中心带来益处。事事都考虑有利于自己的方面，如果就至高无上的君王来说，还尚可接受，因为君王不仅仅代表他们自己，他们的善和恶都关乎着大众的命运，决定着大众的安危。但如果是就君王的臣仆，或者共和国中的公民来说，如果事事只考虑自身，就是无可救药的邪恶。因为无论什么事情，只要经由这样的人之手，他只会不择手段地将事情引向有利于自己目的的方面；而这与其主人或国家的目的往往是背道而驰的。从而，君王或者政府应避免选择有这种不良品性的人作为臣子或属下，除非他们只想要让这种人完成一些无伤大雅的事务，而不让他们参与到其他重要的方面。所有的事情都以利己为目的最致命的影响是使得整个比例完全失调。将臣仆的利益放置在主人的利益之上已经非常不当了，然而更为极端的是，因臣仆的一点点微小利益而将主人的巨大利益置之不顾。那些不良的官员、掌管财务之人、驻外大使、军队统领，以及其他那些狡诈虚伪和贪污腐败的臣仆都是这样的例子，他们做事行为不端，以自己的蝇头小利和私欲为导向，瓦解了他们所宣誓效忠之人的伟业和大局。不过就大多数情况而言，这些臣仆获得的利益是想成就他们自身的好运，但他们为了获得利益而造成的伤害却造成了他们主人的厄运。极端自私自利者的本性的确是这样的，他们会仅仅为了煎烤鸡蛋而不惜把房子引燃。然而这种人却常常深得主人的信任，因为他们钻研如何取悦主人而实现中饱私囊的目的；他们为了达到取悦主人和有利自己这两方面目的的任何一个，都会将主人事业的利益抛在脑后。

利己的学问，从许多方面来说，都是堕落卑下的东西。这种学问是老鼠的机敏：老鼠在房屋倒塌之前一定会弃屋而去。这种学问是狐狸的狡黠：獾掘出自己居住的洞穴，狐狸却把獾驱逐出去，将其洞穴占为己有。这种学问是鳄鱼的虚伪：当鳄鱼吞食猎物时会流下眼泪。但需要特别注意的是，（就像西塞罗〔1〕就庞培〔2〕所说的）这些人“爱他们自己胜过任何旁人”，〔3〕很多时候是不幸的。尽管他们将自己所有的时间都贡献给了自己，但最后也将自己当做祭品献给了命运的反复无常，而本来他们是幻想能用利己的学问将命运的双翼捆缚住的。

注释

〔1〕　西塞罗（Marcus Tullius Cicero，公元前106～前43年），罗马著名演说家和政治家。——译者注

〔2〕　庞培（公元前106年～前48），古罗马统帅、政治家、军事家。——译者注

〔3〕　出自西塞罗给他的兄弟克温图斯的信，第3卷，第8篇。原文为拉丁文。

论新事物

生命在诞生之初并不是那么赏心悦目的，而作为时间产物的各种新事物都是如此。然而尽管如此，就像那些最早给他们的家族带来荣耀的人一样，通常比他们的继承者更值得尊敬和更厉害，所以第一个先例（如果这个先例还不错）很少能够通过模仿来达到。因为恶对于那些误入歧途的人的本性来说是自然而然的行为，在持续的过程中变得最强烈；而善，作为一种被驱动的行为，在初始表现得最为强烈。确实，甚至医药也是一种新事物，那些不愿意使用新的药品的人，就会遭受新的疾病的困扰。时间是最大的革新者，如果时间自然地让事物变得坏朽，而智慧学识和忠告谏言都不能使之向好的方向转化，那么结局会是怎样呢？事实的确如此，即，被风俗所约定的东西，虽然并不那么好，然而至少是适宜的。并且，那些长期相互协调的事物彼此之间已经结合在一起；反之，新事物要与之契合却不那么容易，虽然新事物在功用上肯定是有所补益的，但却因为与旧事物不一致而会有冲突。此外，新事物就像异乡人一样，虽然能博得比一般人更多的羡慕，但比起一般人来说却更不容易被认同。如果时光的河流静止不动的话，上述所说的都千真万确；然而时间的流转永不停歇，以至于固执地保持旧风俗就像固执地坚持革新一样，会把一件事情搅乱；对旧时代过于尊敬就是对现时代的不屑。所以，人们如果在他们的变革中能遵循时间给予的榜样，那就很好，时间确实会产生极大的变革，但是过程是平静的，并且是通过几乎难以察觉的渐变实现的。如果不是如此，任何新的事物都会被认为是意想不到的，而且新的事物会对一些旧的事物进行修补，也会与其他的事物相呼应：那些得益于新事物的人会将其作为一笔财富，并感谢恰逢时运；而那些利益因此受损的人，则会将新事物视为错误，并将其归咎于变革的主导者。在国家中不要进行革新的试验也是对的，除非这种需要非常之迫切或者效用非常之显著；要清醒地留意到，变化是凭借改革而产生，而不是以变化的需要为理由而佯称改革。最后，对于新颖的事物，虽然不应该将其拒斥，但对它仍可保留一种怀疑的态度，正如《圣经》上说的，“我们应当立足于古道瞻顾四周，见有正直的大道，然后行于其上”。〔1〕

注释

〔1〕　出自《旧约·耶利米书》，第6章第16节。

论消费

财富是用于消费，而消费是为了荣耀或做善事。从而特殊的消费应该根据其所相应的价值是否得当来进行约束，因为自觉地放弃一些不必要的花销对于国家财富的积累以及对于身后进入天国都是有好处的。日常的支出应以一个人财产的状况为限度，并且加以细致的管理，应在其实际能力范围之内进行消费，不要受仆人的欺骗和让仆人滥用掌管收支的权力，并且如果要显示自己理财有道，实际所支付的费用应少于别人的估计。一个人如果要达到收支平衡，他的日常花费应该只占到他收入的一半；而如果他想使自己的财富增长，那就应该将自己的支出控制在收入的三分之一。对于一个大人物来说，亲自过问和打理自己财产并不是一件令人颜面扫地的事情；但有些人却避免去管理自己的财务，不仅是觉得在这些方面会犯粗心大意的毛病，而且考虑到管理中会发现财务状况出现的问题，他们也怀疑这类事情的处理会把他们带入一种消沉的情绪中去。但如果不进行检查，创伤是难以治愈的。那些从来不理会自己财产状况的人，在两方面都必须做好，一方面要对雇佣的人严格把关，另一方面需要不时更换人手；因为新手通常胆小谨慎并且不那么奸诈狡猾。那些有能力却较少过问自己财产状况的人，应该对一切收支都了然于心。一个人如果在某一方面支出较多，那他在其他的方面就应当节俭。例如，如果他在饮食方面开销颇大，在服饰方面的开支就应该有所节俭；如果他在厅堂中花费很多，在马厩中的支出就应该减少，诸如此类。因为那种在所有方面都花钱如流水的人，家业的衰落是指日可待的。要清偿一个人的债务，操之过急对自身将产生不利的影响，就像拖欠过久不管所造成的一样。因为仓促地将财产变卖来还债，与承担越来越高的利息一样，通常都是不利的。此外，一次性将债务清空的人会重蹈覆辙，因为一旦他发现自己摆脱了困境，又会回到之前的不良习惯中去；而那些逐步归还债务的人培养起一种节俭的习惯，使他的心理和财务状况都为此受益。

当然，那些需要将财务危机的状况扭转的人不要轻视细微方面的开支，通常来说，节省一些琐碎的费用开支并不是那么可耻，相较起要屈尊而获得微小的收益来说都算不上什么。一个人在开始进行那些一旦开了头就没完没了的花费上应该小心谨慎；但对于那些不会再有下次的类似开销，他蛮可以表现得更为大度。

论养生

健康之道是一门学问，不是医学的规则所能涵盖的。一个人的自我观察是他保持健康的灵丹妙药，因为这些自我观察里包含着什么是对他有益的，什么是对他有害的体验。不过更稳妥的结论是说，“这个不适合我，所以我不会继续这样做”，而不是说，“我发现这个对我没什么害处，所以我会用它”。年轻时体质的强韧可以承受一些过度的行为，但这些行为到人年老时终将产生不良的后果，就像欠的债务一样，总是要还的。要清醒地意识到自己年岁的增长，并且应明确不能再做和年轻时候一样的事情；因为变老的趋势是不容藐视的。要注意在饮食的重要部分不可突然改变，如果是迫不得已必需如此，也应使其他方面与之相适应。因为一个奥妙在于，不论是在自然界还是在国家之中，改变多方面的事物比改变单独一个事物要更为安全可靠。对饮食、睡眠、锻炼、穿着等方面的习惯进行一一审视，看有哪些方面对你的健康是会造成损害的，一点一点地逐步将其戒除；然而如果改变后你觉得并不适应，就恢复原来的习惯：因为很难在如下两者之间进行区分，即一般人普遍认为是好的和有益健康的习惯，以及适合自己身体状况的特殊习惯。在吃饭的时候、睡觉的时候以及锻炼的时候，保持轻松愉悦的心情，把烦恼放在一边，是延年益寿的要诀之一。至于头脑中的情绪和思虑，应避免妒忌、焦虑恐惧、内在的愤怒烦躁、过于敏感以及绞尽脑汁的冥思苦想、过度的喜悦和兴奋、压抑心底的悲伤。怀抱希望和欢笑，而不是狂喜，享受各种喜悦而不是过度地沉浸其中，有好奇心和赞美之心（从而对生活保持新鲜感），用辉煌灿烂的事物充实心灵（例如历史、寓言以及对自然的沉思等）。如果你在健康状况方面从来不求医问药，当你不得不需要这样做的时候，你的身体就会很不适应。如果你在求医问药上过于频繁，当疾病来临之时，医药就不会有特别的效果了。我推荐的是，随季节变换调整饮食，而不是常常求助于医药，除非药物的使用已经变成一种习惯——一些日常饮食对身体的补益更大，而不会对身体造成不良影响。不要对身体产生的新问题视而不见，而是要询问医生相关的建议。若身体有恙，要多遵从有助恢复健康的准则；如果身体康健，则应多活动以保持良好的状态。因为对于那些身体较为强健的人来说，倘若染上的不是重症急病，大多数情况只需调节饮食和多加休养就能痊愈。塞尔苏斯〔1〕兼医生和智者于一身，单纯作为医生和单纯作为智者的塞尔苏斯都很难道出他曾说过的如下这番健康长寿之道，他说，一个人应该将截然相反的习惯都进行尝试，但更倾向对自己有益的那一端：在禁食和饱食之间，更偏重饱食；在不眠与睡眠之间，更侧重睡眠；在不锻炼与锻炼之间，更注重锻炼；诸如此类。从而这样做，会使体质得以增强，体魄更强健。一些医生对病人的性情十分理解和包容，以至于他们对疾病的真正治愈不能取得成效；还有一种医生严格地遵守治疗的程序，而没有充分地考虑病人的具体情况。取介于两种类型医生之间的那种进行求医；或者，如果不能找到同时调和这两种类型的医生，那就各找一位能将两者的优点结合起来的；并且就医时，除了去找德高望重以技艺扬名的医生，也不要忘记去找那位最熟悉你身体状况的医生。

注释

〔1〕　塞尔苏斯（Aulus Cornelius Celsus，约生于公元前10年），罗马百科全书编纂者，以其医学著作闻名。——译者注

论猜疑

人心思中的猜疑就像鸟类〔1〕中的蝙蝠，它们总是乘着暮色起飞。猜疑的确应被抑制，至少应该被小心防范，因为它们使得心灵布满乌云，使得朋友敬而远之，而且扰乱事务，使得事情不能顺利和始终如一地继续进行。猜疑使君王变得暴虐，使丈夫变得嫉妒，使聪明的人变得优柔寡断和阴郁消沉。猜疑是缺点，这种缺点并非源于内心而是源于头脑，因为它们在最坚强勇敢的性情中也会发生，例如英格兰的亨利七世就是这样。与他相比，没有更喜欢猜忌的人了，但也没有比他更坚毅的人了。在这样的性情构成中，猜疑所造成的危害倒是不大，因为通常有此类性情的人，对所猜疑之事并不急于接受，而是要调查考证是否的确如此。然而对于那些生性软弱的人来说，猜疑就像种子落到肥沃的土壤中那样快速地生长起来。越是知之甚少，人越是容易疑心更重；从而人应当通过获得更多的了解来对猜忌进行补救，而不是试图将他们的猜疑闷在心里。人想要得到什么呢？难道他们以为他们所雇佣和打交道的人都是圣人吗？难道他们不想想这些人也有自身的打算，难不成对雇主和对他人比对自己还要忠诚？所以除了将猜疑的事情认为是真的，并且将这些事情作为错误来进行约束和自省之外，没有缓和猜疑的更好方法。因为一个人应将猜疑用做一种预防，如果他所猜疑的事情是真的，那么他就不会受到太大的伤害。自己心中产生的猜疑集聚的不过是蜂虫的嗡鸣声，而通过闲言碎语和小道消息等人为的添油加醋在人头脑中产生的猜疑则是有如蜂之蜇人毒刺的。诚然，在猜疑的密林中开路的最好办法是，与其猜忌的对象进行直接和坦率的交流，从而他比之前能了解更多关于对方的实情，并且可以使对方在避免造成新的猜疑方面会更为谨慎。但这对那些本性卑劣的人不会奏效，因为对于他们而言，如果他们发现自己曾被别人猜忌，他们就不会再保持忠诚。意大利人说，“猜疑允许忠诚远走高飞”，就好像猜疑给忠心发放了通行证；但猜疑应当使忠心更坚定从而解除自身的重负。

注释

〔1〕　原文如此，培根当时未认识到蝙蝠属于哺乳动物。——译者注

论言谈

有些人渴望在他们的言谈中表现出一种受人赞赏的风趣，希望能够在其言谈中包罗万象，而忽略了能识别真伪的判断力的重要性；仿佛言谈的技巧比思考的能力更值得称赞。有些人的确有一些老生常谈的话题，他们擅长于此，但缺乏变化；这种话题的贫乏大多让人觉得枯燥乏味，一旦人们觉察到这一点，就会感到荒谬可笑。交谈过程中最可敬之处在于引起话题，并对话题进行适当的控制并进而引向其他话题那里，就像一个人在领舞时所做的那样。在交谈和会话中，能够改变和混合一些不同的风格那就很好，在陈述之中兼有讨论，在故事当中蕴涵着哲理，在提出问题的同时也有观点的表达，有诙谐而不失真诚：因为倦怠使人厌烦，而且，就如通常所说的那样，使人精疲力竭。至于言谈之中的幽默，在如下几个方面确定无疑是不适用的：姓名、信仰、国家的状况、伟人、任何人正在从事的重要事务，以及任何值得怜悯同情的事例。然而有些人会觉得他们的聪明才智不能发挥显现出来，除非他们能锋锐辛辣、伤人之心。那是一种应该约束的说话方式。

“孩子啊，少用鞭子，多用缰绳。”〔1〕

一般来说，人应该能区分出什么是咸的，什么是苦的。那些有一副爱讥讽的口气的人，因为他使得别人对他话语的锐利生畏，所以他必然也要畏惧他在别人记忆中留下的形象。那些总是喜欢提问的人，会学习到更多的东西，言谈也更能令人满意，尤其是他所提的问题正切中被提问的人的长处时；因为这样他就给被提问的人提供了侃侃而谈的机会，同时他也不断地能够获得知识。但要注意的是，所提的问题不应过于刁难，因为那样就显得装模作样了。并且他应该确保其他人在交谈过程中也有机会说话。不仅如此，如果有人一直滔滔不绝地在大部分时间中掌握着话语权，他应该想办法让这些人从这种状态中解脱并且将其他人带入谈话中来，就像乐师们对那些跳轻快活泼的双人舞太久了的人所采取的技巧那样。如果你假装不知道某件事情，而别人认为你是知道的，那么下次有你不知道的事情的时候，别人也会认为你知道了。应尽量避免谈论到自己，若谈到时也应谨慎。我知道有一个人惯于用蔑视的口吻说，“他那么喜欢谈论自己，想必是个聪明人吧”。只有在一种情况下，一个人可以自夸而不失风度，这就是在称颂别人美德的时候，尤其是这种美德是为称颂者自负的时候。伤及他人的话语应尽量少用，因为交谈应该像一片原野，没有通向某个人家里的道路。我认识两位英国西部的贵族，其中的一位喜欢嘲弄别人，但在家中常大摆宴席，规格堪比王室；另一位会问那些到前一位贵族家中赴宴的人，“实话告诉我，席间难道没有侮辱或者讽刺打击〔2〕的事发生？”客人对此回答说：“这种事的确有。”这个贵族说，“想来他把一桌好菜都毁了”。言语中的谨慎比口才的雄辩要更重要，与打交道的人言语相合，比言谈中使用华丽的辞藻或使用精心安排的顺序更重要。一番连续不断的精彩发言，如果没有好的交流互动，就会显得节奏缓慢；而一份好的应答或附和，如果没有进一步的落实，也会显得浅薄无力。正如我们在兽类中所看到的那样，那些不善于急速奔跑的动物在转向上格外灵活，猎狗和野兔的区别就在于此。在切入正题之前老在外围绕来绕去是令人厌烦的；而过于直截了当又生硬突兀了。

注释

〔1〕　出自奥维德的《变形记》，第2章第127行。原文为拉丁文。

〔2〕　嘲笑或挖苦的评论。

论财富
我认为将财富称为德行的负担是最合适不过的。罗马话对财富的表达更好，称为“辎重”。因为辎重对于军队，就像财富对于德行一样。它既不能被略去，也不能弃于身后，但它的确妨碍了行军；并且，对它的照料有时使胜利白白从手中溜走或对胜利的获取造成了很大的阻碍。巨大的财富没有什么真正的用途，除了能够被分发出去，其余的用途不过是幻想罢了。故而所罗门有言，“大富之所在，必有许多人消耗之，而它的主人除了能用眼睛看它以外，还有什么享受呢？”〔1〕一个人的财富达到一定程度就超越了个人享受的范围，他可以对这些财富进行看管，也可以施舍或者捐赠，或是因这些财富而获得一定的名望；但对于财富的拥有者来说，都不是实实在在的用途。难道你没看到小小的宝石和稀罕之物都被赋予了不实的价值，而人们从事那些虚有其表的工作，只不过是因为这似乎是巨额财富的某些用处罢了？然而你也许会说，财富可以救人于危难或解除人的困境。如所罗门所说，“在富人的想象中，财富有如一座坚城”。〔2〕这话表达得非常好，也就是说，这不过是存在于想象中的事，而不是在事实上如此。确切地说，因为“多财”所卖之人比其所买活的人要多得多。不要追求以财富炫耀于人，而是应追求在财富的获取上公平、使用上有节制、给予别人时开心愉快、对保留下来的财富感到满足。但对财富也不必持有一种不问世事之人或托钵僧般的蔑视。而是应该区别对待，就像西塞罗对拉毕里乌斯·波斯杜穆斯〔3〕的中肯评价那样：“他对财富的追求，显得他所求者并不是为满足贪婪，而是要得到一种为善的工具。”〔4〕也应聆听所罗门的教诲，对急遽敛财的行为加以警惕：“欲急速致富者将不免于不义。”〔5〕诗人们描述说，当普路托斯（即财神）被朱庇特〔6〕所差遣的时候，他走得步履蹒跚、慢慢吞吞；不过他若是被普鲁托〔7〕派遣的时候，他健步如飞、脚下生风。意思是，通过正当的手段和诚实的劳动获得财富是缓慢的过程，而别人的故去（例如通过遗产、遗嘱等方式，等等）使财富滚滚而来。不过把普鲁托看做是魔鬼，也同样适用。因为当财富来自魔鬼（例如通过欺骗以及压迫和不公正的手段），也会迅速积累起来。致富的途径有许多种，但其中绝大多数都是肮脏不堪的。吝啬是致富的途径中最好的，但也并非清白无辜，因为吝啬将人与慷慨解囊和乐善好施的行为绝缘。获取财富最自然的途径是对土地进行耕耘，因为它是伟大母亲，也就是大地的恩赐；但通过它获取财富是缓慢的。此外，拥有大量财富的人若愿意从事农耕的话，将会使他们的财富成倍地增长。我认识一位英国贵族，算是我所处的时代中最有钱的人：他既是一个大草原主人，又是一个畜牧大户，是一个大的木材供应商、大煤矿主、大农场主、大宗铅和铁的贸易商人，以及其他各种农牧业的经营者：所以大地对他来说就像取之不尽用之不竭的大海，源源不绝地给他提供财富。有一个人切身体会到，当要赚取一点点财富的时候很不容易，而获得大笔财富的时候反而简单，这倒是实在的。因为，当一个人的财富储备达到那样的一种程度时，即他可以等待到市场的全盛时期，可以做那些获利颇丰但一般人财力所不能及的交易，并且还可以参与属于年轻人的产业，他就不用为他的财富增长而发愁。日常的贸易和职业的收益是诚实可信的，主要由两种事物促进增长：通过勤奋努力，还有就是通过童叟无欺、公平交易的良好信誉。但当一个人将交易建立在别人的迫切需要之上，并且通过拉拢仆人和其他手段接近买主而破坏了交易的公平，或是奸诈狡猾地劝阻他人与那些更守信誉的商人进行交易，以及使用诸如此类工于心计的做法时，通过交易获利就有了一种更被质疑的性质。至于买卖中的大肆讨价还价，当一个人购进不是为了持有，而是为了再次卖出获利时，这就是对之前的卖家和之后的买家的双重剥削。合伙做生意能创造大量的财富，如果经过挑选的合作伙伴是值得信赖的话。放高利贷是最有把握获利的途径，但也是最糟糕的途径，因为这样做的人是用别人的汗流满面来谋自己的生计；〔8〕并且除此之外，在星期日也要耕田犁地不休息。不过虽然这种方式是有把握的，但也有其缺点，因为代理人和中间人会为了自己的利益而将信誉不佳者鼓吹为有价值的放贷对象。在一项发明或特权上具有优先权的好运气，有时也会带来财富方面惊人的暴涨，就像卡纳列斯群岛第一个经营糖业的商人一样。从而，如果一个人在思维的缜密性上能够与逻辑学家媲美，既善于判断又善于发明，他能成就一番大事业，尤其是在有适宜的时机时。那种依赖固定收入的人很难拥有巨额的财富，并且那种把自己的所有财产都用于风险投资的人通常会破产和沦为一贫如洗。因此以能撑得住损失的一定收入来抵御投资带来的风险才是恰当的。对货物进行垄断和囤积以再销售，如果不受管制的话，是致富的良方，尤其是投资者对于何种东西会紧缺方面格外有头脑的话，事先大量购入必然会带来不少收益。通过服务获得的财富，虽然属于来源最佳的行列，然而如果是通过阿谀奉承、谄媚讪笑以及其他奴颜婢膝的行为获取的，它们就被归为最恶劣的行列中。至于那些攫取遗嘱和遗嘱执行人权责的行为（就像泰西塔斯就塞内加〔9〕所说的，“他就像用网子一样把那些遗嘱和监护权一并拽在手中”〔10〕），那就更为卑劣，这种人在屈从献媚于比自己更卑贱的人上比起那些从事服务的人更为过分。不要太过于相信那些似乎鄙视财富的人，因为他们鄙视财富是因为他们对财富的获得感到绝望；当财富来临之时，没有人会比他们更拜金。不要因小失大；财富是长着翅膀的，有时它们会自己飞走，有时它们需要被放飞才能带回来更多。人的财富不是留给他们的家人亲属，就是交付给公众，在这两方面进行适度的分配最有助于财富的繁荣。如果继承人在年龄和见识方面都还不够成熟稳重，那么一份丰厚的遗产就像是一块诱饵，会把周围所有的猛禽都引过来啄食他。同样的，华美的赠品和捐款就像是没有放盐的祭品，只不过是被粉饰过的施舍的坟墓，里面很快就会腐朽。因此不应当以数量来衡量你的馈赠，而是应使其用之有度并用之有道。此外，不要等到死之将至才着手进行慈善事业，确切地说，如果一个人认真地考虑此事，就能想到，这样做的人并非慷慨地捐出自己的钱而是慷慨地把别人的钱捐掉。

注释

〔1〕　出自《旧约·传道书》，第5章第11节。

〔2〕　出自《旧约·箴言》，第18章第11节。

〔3〕　据传拉毕里乌斯·波斯杜穆斯借钱给埃及国王，而后者拒绝还钱并将波斯杜穆斯陷入牢狱之灾中，波斯杜穆斯逃到罗马，得到西塞罗的辩护。——译者注

〔4〕　出自《代表拉毕里乌斯·波斯杜穆斯的演说》第2节，西塞罗并没有论及拉毕里乌斯·波斯杜穆斯，而是他的父亲盖乌斯·库提乌斯对此有所论述。原文为拉丁文。

〔5〕　出自《旧约·箴言》，第28章第20节。原文为拉丁文。

〔6〕　罗马神话中的宙斯神。——译者注

〔7〕　罗马神话中的冥界之王。——译者注

〔8〕　参见《旧约·创世纪》，第3章第19节。上帝对亚当说：“你必汗流满面才得糊口。”原文为拉丁文。

〔9〕　塞内加（Lucius Annaeus Seneca，约公元前4－公元65），古罗马剧作家。——译者注

〔10〕　出自泰西塔斯《编年史》，第13卷第42章。原文为拉丁文。

论野心

野心就像胆汁一样，它是一种令人积极、认真、洋溢着敏捷和活跃的体液——如果它不被阻碍的话。不过如果它被阻碍，不能随心所欲的话，它就变得阴郁枯槁，并从而变得恶毒尖酸。故而有野心的人，如果他们打开了升迁之路，并且平步青云的话，他们通常是忙碌的而不是危险的；然而如果他们的愿望被阻，他们就会变得暗中愤愤不平，而且对人和事都用恶毒的眼光去看待，事情变得越糟糕他们就越开心，这可以说是一个君主或一个国家的臣仆所能具有的最坏的品质。因此，对于君主来说，如果他们任用有野心的人，要使之不断升迁而不被贬黜才好；但这样做总是免不了遇到麻烦，所以不任用具有这样性格的人倒是更为省事。因为如果他们不能与其从事的工作共同高升，他们就会有意地将这些工作和自身一起弄得很失败。但因为我们已经说过不去任用那些有野心性格的人才好，除非他们是不可或缺的，那我们来说说在什么情况下是不得不用他们的。在战争中优秀的指挥官是必不可少的，即使他们的野心空前之大；因为任用他们在工作上产生的益处可以把那些弊端忽略掉，并且，如果任用一名没有野心的军人就像是把他马靴上的马刺扯掉了一样。在君王处于危险和受到妒忌时任用那些有野心的人来为其掩护也是很好的，因为没有人会愿意接受那样的角色，除非他像一只被蒙住眼睛的鸽子，使劲地不断向上扑腾，因为他留意不到自己。有野心的人还可以被用于清除任何高高在上、权高盖主的对象……因为他们应被任用于这类情况中，那么接下来得谈谈应如何约束他们，使他们没有那么危险。如果他们出身卑微，那么就不会有太大危险，而如果他们出身高贵则会比较危险；如果他们本性相当苛刻，就比那些本性优雅和随和的人要危险性更小；如果他们最近刚刚得到提拔，比起那些以奸诈狡猾和城府深厚而获得地位上升的人来说也不那么危险。一些人认为，君王有自己的宠臣是一个弱点，但这其实是对付那些有野心的人的所有方法中最好不过的一着。因为当赏赐和惩罚都出自宠臣之手，其他人就不能超越其上而权倾一时。另一个抑制他们的手段是通过那些像他们一样自负的人与之抗衡。但因此也需要一些不偏不倚的议事大臣来保持局势的稳定，因为船如果没有压舱物就会过于颠簸不平。至少，君王可以鼓动和扶植一些更卑贱的人来与野心家们作对。就打击这些鄙夷可憎的人来说，如果他们生性懦弱，上述方法会起到很好的作用；但如果他们无惧无畏，这会导致他们图谋不轨并酿成祸害。至于将这些有野心的人从其位置上撤下来而言，如果事务的处理需要如此，而又不能突然行事同时也需要确保万无一失的时候，唯一的途径是让他们时而得宠时而失宠，使他们不知道能够期待什么，就像在密林中不辨方向、不知何去何从那样。就野心而言，那种要在大事上取胜的野心，比起那些在任何事情上都要占优势的野心来说，危害要小，因为那种凡事斤斤计较的野心滋生混乱，损害事务。不过，让一个野心勃勃的人忙于处理事务，而不是让他拉帮结派，也同样是危害较小的。想要在有能力的人当中出类拔萃是很繁重的任务，而这对公众来说是好事。不过，那种谋划成为众无名小卒中的大人物的人，会败坏整个时代。荣耀包含着三件事：可以做善事的有利地位，能接近君王和显要，以及个人自身运气的提升。一个有雄心壮志的人，若他能把握这些意图中最好的那一种，他便是一个诚实正直的人；一位君主，若能够明辨有志之人心中所怀的这种意向，他便是一位贤明的君主。一般而言，君主和国家选择臣子时，应选择那些视责任义务高于升官加爵的人，还有那些对事业的热爱不是基于炫耀之心而是凭借着良心的人。所以应该将那些本性好事者与心甘情愿服务的人区分开来。

论美

美德就好比一块宝石，朴素的装饰最能映衬它的价值；无疑的，美德存在于外表动人者身上是最好不过的，不过若没有精致的容貌，在气质方面展现出的庄重大方也会胜过容貌的姣美。此外，拥有俊俏容颜者也拥有杰出的德行是不多见的，他们仿佛是被繁忙的自然界创造出来但求没有差错而已，而不愿意在塑造卓越上花费更多的工夫。并且，这些人虽然拥有标致的外貌，却没有优秀的精神气质，对行为举止的钻研热情要高于对德行的追求。但情况也不总是如此，因为奥古斯都·恺撒、提图斯·维斯帕西亚努斯〔1〕、法国国王美男子菲利普〔2〕、英国国王爱德华四世〔3〕、雅典的亚西比德〔4〕、波斯统治者伊斯梅尔，都志存高远、气宇轩昂，并且也是他们所处时代中第一等的美男子。就美而言，容貌之美要胜过肌肤之美，而优雅得体的举止之美又胜过容貌之美。那是美最摄人心魄之处，是用图画也难以表达的；是生命中的初见也难以把握的。没有一种精妙绝伦的美在其比例上不会有一些独特和奇妙之处。一个人很难说出阿佩里斯〔5〕和阿尔伯特·丢勒〔6〕何者更为不可靠；他们中的一位，要用几何比例来画人；另外一位，要取若干面孔的最佳部分来构造一张完美的脸庞。这样画出来的人，我想，除了能取悦画家自己，谁也取悦不了。我不是认为一位画家不能描绘出一张前所未有的俊美面孔，而是认为他应该在创作时运用一种巧妙的笔触（就如音乐家在谱曲时蕴涵的神韵），而不是依据规则来创作。如果你对人的脸进行一部分一部分的仔细观察，那你是找不到一张能视为美的面庞的，人应该将面孔作为整体来看才能发现其动人之处。如果美的主要部分是存在于端庄的举止中这句话是真的，那么确实不会令人惊奇的是，有些人历经岁月风霜却似乎很多时候更为可爱了：“美之迟暮也是美的”；〔7〕因为若不宽容，并且将青春年少本身视为对美的弥补，就没有青年人能算是美丽的。美就像是夏日的水果，容易腐坏，不易长久保持；并且大多数情况下，美造就了放荡不羁的青年人，也造成了悔恨的老年时代。但仍然确定无疑的是，如果美能适当地起作用的话，它会使美德闪耀，使恶习赧颜。

注释

〔1〕　提图斯·维斯帕西亚努斯（Titus Flavius Vespasianus，公元39年～81），罗马皇帝，公元79年－81年在位。——译者注

〔2〕　菲利普四世（1268～1314），法国国王，1285年～1314年在位。——译者注

〔3〕　爱德华四世（1442～1483），英国国王，1461年～1470年在位。——译者注

〔4〕　亚西比德（公元前450～前404），雅典著名的政治家、演说家、将军。——译者注

〔5〕　希腊画家，活跃于公元前4世纪。——译者注

〔6〕　阿尔伯特·丢勒（1471～1528），德国画家、版画家、艺术理论家。——译者注

〔7〕　欧里庇得斯的格言，记录于普罗塔克的《亚西比德》第1章第3节。原文为拉丁文。

论残疾

有残疾的人与造物主通常是互补亏欠的：因为造物主既然对他们不公，他们对造物主也同样如此。他们中的绝大多数（如《圣经》中所说的）都天性凉薄，从而他们以此方式报复了造物主。的确，在身体与心灵之间是存在着一种一致性的，当造物主在一方面出了错，她在另一方面就有风险：当她在一方面犯错误，她在另一方面就冒风险。但因为在人身上存在着触及自身心灵境界的选择权以及身体构造的必然受之于自然，所以决定自然倾向的星宿有时会被决定修养和德行的太阳光辉所遮掩。因此这样去做才是可取的，即不应将残疾仅仅看做是一种性格的迹象，那会更使人受到蒙蔽，而是应视为一种导致某种性格的原因，这种原因通常都会产生一定的结果。那些身体上有着无法改变的某些缺陷的人，的确会因为这些缺陷导致别人对他的不敬，但同时也拥有了将其自身从被鄙视的境况中解救和解放出来的永恒动力。从而，所有身体有残缺的人都是极其勇敢的——最初，是在作为被鄙视的对象时对自身尊严的维护，随着时间的推移，便成为了一种普遍的习惯。此外，这对他们的勤勉也有所裨益，尤其是在注意和观察别人的弱点时，这使得他们在回敬之时不会毫无准备。此外，就他们的上级来说，残疾的状况能平息针对他们的妒忌，因为这些人认为身体残缺的人不过是任人藐视的对象而已；而且这也会使得他们的竞争者和对手麻痹大意，因为他们决不相信身有残疾的人会有升迁的可能性，直到他们看到这些人获得了相关的职位为止。所以，就这些情况而言，残疾的人若有过人的才智，其残疾反而是其晋升的优势。古代的君主（并且在一些当代的国家中依然如此）惯于对宦官施以极大的信任，因为那妒恨一切人的人们对于专制君主是会更为依赖和更为尽职的。然而虽然君主们对宦官加以信任，但更多的是将其作为有用的耳目和告密者，而并非作为清正廉明的官员和政府职员而任用。对于身形残疾的人来说情况也多半类似。然而，最根本的是，如果他们有志气，他们应努力使自己从被鄙视中解脱，可凭借的办法无外乎美德或邪念。从而，若这些人之中产生了优秀的人才，也不足为怪；例如阿格西劳斯、〔1〕苏里曼的儿子赞格、伊索、〔2〕秘鲁总督加斯卡；对于一些人来说，苏格拉底〔3〕也可以算是他们中的一员。

注释

〔1〕　阿格西劳斯，即斯巴达国王阿格西劳斯二世（公元前444～前360），是个天生的跛脚，且个头矮小，长相平庸。——译者注

〔2〕　伊索，约生活于公元前6世纪～7世纪，据传为《伊索寓言》的作者，据说相貌奇丑。——译者注

〔3〕　苏格拉底（公元前470～前399），著名的古希腊哲学家，他和其学生柏拉图及柏拉图的学生亚里士多德被并称为希腊三哲。他相貌丑陋，故培根有此一说。——译者注

论建筑

房屋是建造来居住的，而不是建造来观赏的；因此其用途应当优先于其样式，除非这两者可以同时兼具。将那些仅仅是出于美观的目的而建造起来的、有着金碧辉煌装饰的房屋，都留给诗人笔下的魔幻宫殿吧，他们建造这些宫殿实在花费不了什么成本。建造一幢好房屋的环境不好，就等于犯了将自己囚禁起来的错误。我所认为的不佳环境，不仅指那里的空气有害健康，而且也指那里的空气流动不均。就像可以看到许多精巧的屋舍坐落在小山丘上，周围更高的山将其环抱，从而太阳散发出的热量都郁积于此，而且风汇集于此犹如水槽之聚水一般；所以会忽然之间感觉到极其悬殊的热或冷，就好像同时居住在几个不同的地方一样。除了因空气状况不好造成的地理位置不佳之外，道路状况的不好、集市状况的不良，以及（如果你征求执掌嘲笑和非难的莫默斯神的意见）邻居的不善，都是房屋位置不好的原因。我还没有提及更多的因素：水源的匮乏；林木、阴凉之处、庇护之所的不足；丰饶的土地，以及各种类型土地的混合的缺乏；景色的稀缺；开阔平坦土地的缺少；近距离适宜放鹰狩猎或竞速运动场所的缺失；太靠近海边，或太偏离海边；未拥有河流可通航之便，或拥有河流容易泛滥的不便；距离大城市太远，这会阻碍事业发展，或者距离大城市太近，这会使得人们过于依赖商贸，使得开销高昂；一个可以使人积聚大产业的地点或一个使人局促不能发展的地点。所有的这些，因为任何一个地方不可能同时都具备，所以对其有所了解并有所打算是错不了的，一个人应尽其所能地让自己的居所拥有更多的优势；并且，如果能够有好几处房产的话，他可以各取所长，在一处所短缺的在另一处可以得到。卢库勒斯〔1〕对庞培的巧妙回答即是如此：当庞培在卢库勒斯的一处住宅看到富丽堂皇的走廊和房间十分宽敞明快，问道，“这的确是消夏的好地方，但你冬天怎么办呢？”卢库勒斯回答说，“为什么，难道你认为我还不如一些在冬天来临之时就变换了自己住所的鸟类聪明吗？”

从房子的处所说到房屋本身。我们将像西塞罗在其演讲术中所做的那样，西塞罗撰著了几本《论演说家》的书，以及一本他命名为《演说家》的书，前几本书中他陈述了演讲之术的规律，后一本书是关于演说的至高境界的。因此我们将先描述一个君王的宫殿，作为一个简单的模型。因为令人奇怪的是，如今在欧洲，虽然有梵蒂冈和埃斯科里亚尔〔2〕以及其他的大型建筑，然而其中仍然缺少一个非常宜人而堪称典范的房间。

因此，首先，我认为，如果你的宫殿没有两个不同的部分，就不能算是完美的宫殿。一部分用于酒宴筵席，就像《旧约·以斯帖书》中所说的那样，而另一部分用于家居日常生活；一部分用于盛会和庆典，另一部分用于居住。按我的理解，这两部分都不必仅限于建筑的后部，而是可以部分地位于前部，虽然内部分隔为几个不同的部分，但在外观上合为一体；并且这两部分应位于宫殿前部正中高大庄严的塔楼的两侧，那么，就像是塔楼将它们从两侧连接了起来。我认为在用于宴请的那一部分，在其前部，楼上只安排一个舒适的房间就可以了，这个房间约四十英尺高，其下部的房间用于更衣打扮或在举行庆典的时候作为准备的场所。另外一部分，也就是，用于家居生活的部分，我希望它首先分为大厅和小教堂（中间要分隔开来），这两处都要设计得当和宽敞；并且它们不要将所有的空间都占据，而是在更远的末端分别有一个冬天和夏日的会客室，这两个会客室都应该装饰得当。在这些房间的底层，要有一个沉入地下的好用并且宽大的地窖，以及一些带有伙食房和餐具室的私人厨房，等等。就前面提及的高塔来说，我认为在其两翼之上应该高出两层，每一层应有十八英尺高；顶部以优质铅皮覆盖，并围以栏杆，其间布以雕像为装饰；塔楼也应分出具有不同功用的房间。通向高处房间的楼梯，应使之修建在外露的螺旋中柱上，用漆有黄铜色图案的雕木对栏杆进行修饰；并在顶部设置一个非常适宜观景的平台。但要这样做的话，必须是你没有将下部的房间指定用于仆从用餐，否则就必须要求仆从在用餐之后方能进餐——因为饭菜的气味会升腾上来，就像在隧道里一般浓郁不散。对于宫殿的前部就说这么多了。不过还有一点，我认为第一层楼梯的高度应为十六英尺，也就是楼下房间的高度。

除了前面部分之外，宫殿还应有一个漂亮的庭院，但庭院的三面都应该是比宫殿前部低许多的建筑。并且在这座庭院的四个角上，应有外部有精致楼廊的角楼，而不是在建筑内部修建楼梯。但这些角楼不能高于前部建筑，而是应与建筑相互协调。在庭院中不必铺路，因为那样会使得夏日非常炎热而在冬日十分寒冷。但一些边上和贯穿庭院的小路是需要的，其余的地方种植草皮，并使之常得到修剪，但修剪也不要过于频繁。举行宴会那一部分建筑的后部，应全部建为精巧的走廊。在这些走廊上，根据其距离长短设置有三五个圆顶阁，距离均等，并精心修饰以绘有各种图案的彩绘窗扇。在用于居家生活的另外一侧，应有会客之所和一般的休闲娱乐之所以及一些卧房；让三面的房间都有，而不是让一面的房间完全暴露于光照中，这样你不论上午或在下午，都有能够避开阳光直射的房间。你也应该将房间建造成同时适用于夏天和冬天的，使之在夏天的时候阴凉，在冬天的时候温暖。你有时也会遇到一些满是玻璃窗的美丽房子，让人在其中不知如何避开日晒和寒冷。就内弓型的窗户来说，我认为它们有很好的用途（的确，在城市中，竖式的窗户更好，考虑到街道两侧需要整齐划一来说），因为它们可以将用于会议的房间与外界很好的隔离开来；除此之外，它们也将风吹和日晒阻隔开来，因为那些能贯通室内的风和日光很难透过此类窗户。但这种窗户也不宜过多，在面朝庭院的两边墙上共有四个就可以了。

在这个庭院后边，还应有一个在面积和高度上与之相当的内院，被四面的花园所环抱；在其内部则四周筑以回廊，配以美丽大方的拱门，高度与第一层楼相当。在面朝花园的底层部分，应修建为洞室，或纳凉之地或消夏之所；它们的开口和窗户都只面向花园；并且与地面保持水平，而不沉入地下哪怕一点，以避免各种潮气湿气。此外，在这个庭院的中间，还应有一座喷泉，或者一些精雕细琢的雕像；其道路铺设与其他庭院相同。这些房屋中位于两侧的是供个人居住使用，位于后面部分的则供个人秘密使用。还有你必须在这些房屋中设置一间养病室，以备君王或任何一位要人生病之需，会客室、卧房、前厅后室将其装备齐全。这个养病室位于第二层。在第一层，设置一个雅致的、开放式的、下有柱子的游廊；在第三层也是如此，设有立柱的开放式游廊，能在其中饱览花园中的美景和呼吸清新空气。在更远处的两个角上，与之相呼应，可修建两个精美华丽、铺陈高雅、装饰美轮美奂、并以水晶般玻璃精心修饰的小阁，中间配以华美的圆屋顶；其他各种各类可以想到的精妙物件作为装饰。在较高的游廊那里，我也希望如果条件允许，应有一些喷泉从墙面的若干个地方流下，同时配备良好的排水设施。以上这些就是关于宫殿的模型，除此之外，在通向宫殿前面建筑之前，应有三个庭院。首先是一个简单朴素的绿色庭院，有围墙；其次是一个类似的庭院，但装饰更丰美，有小角塔，或者在墙面上进行大量的修饰；第三个庭院，在宫殿前面形成一个广场，既不需要什么建筑，也不需要无装饰的墙将其围住，而是以平台将其环绕，上面覆以铅质屋顶，并在三面进行奢华的装饰；内部设以游廊，用柱子而不用拱门支撑。至于办公场所，应与宫殿保持一定的距离，用一些低的游廊将它们与宫殿连接起来。

注释

〔1〕　卢库勒斯（Lucius Licinius Lucullus，公元前118年～前57），古罗马将军兼执政官，以巨富闻名。——译者注

〔2〕　埃斯科里亚尔宫殿，建造于公元1562年至公元1584年，位于西班牙马德里附近。——译者注

论花园

万能的上帝是花园的第一个缔造者。的确，赏花弄草是人类乐趣当中最为单纯的一种。花园对于振作人的精神有着不可估量的效果，如果建筑和宫殿没有花园，那就不过是粗俗的作品罢了。一个人可以了解到，当时代日益向文明高雅发展，人们通常先谈及高大的建筑然后才谈及精巧的花园，仿佛花园是更为完美的。我确实认为，在皇家花园的设计上，应该有一年当中十二个月都有美景的花园。在其中，每个季节的几种最美的花木依次开放、呈现。就十二月和一月，以及十一月的后半部分来说，你应该种植那些整个冬日都常青的植物：冬青、常春藤、月桂、杜松、柏树、紫杉、菠萝树、枞树、迷迭香、熏衣草；白色、紫色和蓝色的长春花；石蚕草、菖蒲；橙树、菩提树；桃金娘，如果它们能被种植在温室里的话；还有甜马郁兰，也需要保暖。接着，对于一月的后半部分和二月，应种植即将开放的丁香花树；番红花，黄色和灰色均可；樱草、银莲花、开得较早的郁金香、风信子、小鸢尾、贝母。到了三月，应该有紫罗兰，尤其是那种单瓣蓝色的盛放最早；黄水仙、雏菊、盛开的杏树、开满花的桃树、正在开花的山茱萸树、多花蔷薇。在接着到来的四月中，有重瓣的白色紫罗兰、其他颜色的紫罗兰、康乃馨、黄花九轮草、鸢尾花，以及各种各样的百合花；迷迭香、郁金香、重瓣牡丹、淡色水仙、法国忍冬；开花的樱桃树、开花的李子树和梅树、枝繁叶茂的白刺树、丁香树。在五月和六月里，出现的是各类石竹，尤其是浅粉红色的石竹；各种玫瑰，除了麝香玫瑰之外——因为它开放得较晚；忍冬、草莓、牛舌草、耧斗菜；孔雀草、非洲万寿菊、果实累累的樱桃树、醋栗、果满枝头的无花果树、树莓、葡萄花、盛开的熏衣草、开白花的香兰；麝香兰、山百合、开花的苹果树。七月当中，有多种多样的紫罗兰、淡粉色的玫瑰、开花的菩提树、挂果较早的梨树和结果的李子树、苹果树、早熟的花红。八月中各色各样的李子和梅子都成熟了，还有梨子、杏子、伏牛花、榛子、甜瓜、各种颜色的附子。在九月中，有葡萄、苹果、万紫千红的罂粟花、桃子、榅桲、油桃、山茱萸、冬梨、柑橘。在十月和十一月的前半个月中能营造景观的，有枸杞、西洋李，通过修剪或移植使之较晚开放的玫瑰、蜀葵等等诸如此类。这些花草植物是根据伦敦的气候挑选出来的；但是我的意思显而易见，也就是你根据地方的特点能拥有永恒的春天。

而且因为飘洒在空气中而不是在人的手中，鲜花的芬芳更为香甜（就像乐曲中的颤音一样婉转缠绵），从而了解哪些花儿和植物的气味最为馥郁，是最有助于获得这种乐趣的。粉红色品种和红色品种的玫瑰，都不是容易散发出香味的花，所以当你经过一整排这种玫瑰旁边，却嗅不到一点它们的芳香，即便是在满布朝露的清晨也是如此。月桂在生长的过程中也不散发香气，迷迭香也很少散发香气，甜马郁兰也是这样。其他在空气中散发香气的花儿当中，其香味最为浓郁的莫过于紫罗兰，尤其是白色的重瓣紫罗兰，一年绽放两次，一次是在四月中旬，一次是在八月二十四日的圣巴塞洛缪节之时。其次就是麝香玫瑰。此外就是草莓叶枯萎的时候，带着一种最为怡神的气味。然后就是葡萄花，它是一种微小的花朵，就像苇草的小花，起初是成簇生长开放的。再则就是甜石楠。还有黄色紫罗兰，种植在会客室或低层房间的窗外最惹人喜爱。接着还有石竹花和康乃馨，尤其是花坛石竹和丁香康乃馨。其次就是菩提树的花香味。还有就是忍冬花，所以它们得种得远一些才好。我没有谈论到豆类的花，因为它们属于田间花朵。但在其他方面，那些最能让空气芬芳怡人而并非供人在一旁流连忘返，而是被踩踏和挤压的，有三种，那就是：地榆、野麝香草以及水薄荷。因此你应将小径旁种满此类植物，当你漫步或徜徉的时候可以尽情享受它们的香气带来的愉悦。

对于花园来说（上述的种种当然都是关于君王的花园，就像我们讨论建筑时那样），其面积应不少于三十英亩的土地，并且应划分为三个部分：在入口处是一片如茵绿地；在出口处应该是一片荒地或沙地；中间的是主花园，两边是小路。并且我认为应有四英亩的土地用于绿地，六英亩的土地用于荒地；两边各用四英亩；十二英亩作为主花园。绿地有两种妙用：其一，没有什么比看到精心修剪的绿色草地更为舒适悦目的；其次，因为绿地的中间会给你提供一条美丽的小径，将你引向一道气派庄严的树篱前，这树篱将花园围绕。但因为小径会比较长，并且，在一年或一天之中最热的时候，你应不必冒着日晒行走在绿地的小径而去获得花园中的阴凉，因此你应在绿地的两侧，设置可遮阳的小路，由木匠来建造，约十二英尺高，这样你可以在阴凉中走到花园去。至于用各种颜色的泥土安设花坛、形成图案，它们可以位于花园旁边房屋的窗户下边，这些都是小巧的玩意儿而已：你在糖果点心那里可能已经多次看到这样的设计了。花园最好是正方形的，四周围绕着气派的有拱门的树篱，这些拱门矗立在木匠修建的柱子上，约有十英尺高和六英尺宽，拱门之间的距离应与拱门的宽度一致。在拱门之上还有约四英尺高的整道树篱，也是由木工构建而成的；并且在更高一层的树篱之上，在每个拱门上方，都有一个小的角塔，其中部凸起的空间，恰恰能容纳一个鸟笼；在拱门之间的上方可布置一些小雕像以及宽大的圆形镀金彩色玻璃，让阳光可以尽情地挥洒。但这个树篱我想要建造在漫坡上，不能陡峭，而是平缓的斜坡，约六英尺高，上边种植些各色花儿。并且，我认为这个正方形的花园不应该占据了土地的整个篇幅，而是应在两侧留有足够的面积，可用于各种小径的营造，前面提到的绿地间的遮阳小路可以将你引向这些小径。不过，在这个树篱围绕的花园的两端应没有带树篱的小路：在通向花园的一端不设有这种小路，是为了保证从绿地望过来时，你的视野能触及那精心设计的树篱；在更远的一端也不设有这种小路，是为了使你从树篱的拱门中望出去，能看到花园背后的荒地。

至于高大的树篱内部花园的布置，我认为应该给风格各异的设计留下发挥的空间，无论你要将花园设计成何种的风格，要奉劝的忠告是，首先，不可太过于烦琐或处处匠心积虑。在这一点上，就我个人而言，我并不喜欢在杜松或其他花园里的树木上雕刻图案——这是给孩子们看的。我非常喜欢低矮的小树篱，修剪成圆形，就像衣饰上的滚边一样，再配以一些漂亮的棱锥；在一些地方，设有木工雕刻的美观柱子。我也同样喜欢将小路设计得宽阔大方。在花园两侧你可以修建有顶篷的小道，但在花园的主体部分中则不适宜这样做。我也希望，在花园的正中，有一座精致的小山，拾阶而上共有三层，其道路的宽度可供四人并肩而行；我也认为道路可以完全是环绕于小山，无须扶栏或浮雕装饰；整座小山有三十英尺高；并设有宴会厅，其中装有整洁考究的壁炉，不要安装太多的玻璃窗。

就喷泉而言，是非常美丽和赏心悦目的；水塘则会有损于花园的风貌，使得花园不益于健康并且充斥着苍蝇和青蛙。我认为喷泉有两种类型：一种是喷水或者冒水的，另一种是澄澈的蓄水池，约三十或四十英尺见方，其中既不养鱼也无淤泥、泥浆沉底。就第一种喷泉来说，若以镀金或大理石材质的雕像作为装饰品，会很不错，但主要的问题在于使水潺潺流动，而不是在水钵和水槽中停滞不畅；不能流动的水会被污染，从而发绿、发红或诸如此类，要不然就是聚集了苔藓或各种腐败物。除此之外，喷泉应每日及时清洁。喷泉若饰以一些阶梯，同时周围配以一些精心铺设的路面，就会有良好的效果。至于另外一种类型的喷泉，我们可将其称为浴池，它承载着许多遐思和拥有许多美观的设计，我们就不必自找麻烦了：例如，池子底部应精心铺设，装饰以图案，池子的两侧也是如此；并且用彩色的玻璃，以及其他有光泽的物品进行修饰；以有小雕像的精巧栏杆环绕之。然而论及这种喷泉的要点，与我们在谈论到前一种喷泉时是相同的，也就是让水能够长流不止，通过比池子更高的水提供源头，并通过精良的喷管进行输送，然后用均等大小的出水孔由地下将水排出，这样水就不会积郁池中。至于那些精妙的设计，例如使水流如虹而不溢或使水以各种形状喷洒（羽毛的形状、酒杯的形状、华盖的形状，等等），它们都是十分宜人眼目的，但对于修身养性没有什么裨益。

就园中的荒地来说，也就是我们园林规划中的第三部分，我认为应该尽可能的设计出具有真正自然的荒野气息。我想其中不必栽种树木，但可种植一些灌木，除了多花蔷薇和金银花之外，再有一些野葡萄间杂其中；地上多种植有紫罗兰、草莓和樱草。因为这些草木可以散发香气，在荫庇之处也会茂盛生长。而且这些草木在荒地之中的种植是随意的，到处都可以，并没有什么既定的次序。我也喜欢有些堆积的小土丘，性质与鼹鼠的窝一样（就像是在真正的荒野中那样），有些种上野生的百里香；有些种上石竹花；有些种上石蚕草，它会生长出非常悦目的花儿；有些种上长春花；有些种上紫罗兰；有些种上草莓；有些种上黄花九轮草；有些种上雏菊；有些种上红玫瑰；有些种上山百合；有些种上红色的美洲石竹；有些种上熊掌花以及类似的不名贵，却同样芬芳和好看的花卉。一些小土丘的顶部可以种植直立挺拔的小灌木，另一些则不必。此类小灌木有玫瑰、杜松、冬青、伏牛花（但要分散开来种植，因它们的香气浓郁）、红醋栗、醋栗、迷迭香、月桂、多花蔷薇等，诸如此类。但这些直立的灌木都应时常修剪，使之生长以免凌乱而不成形状。

就两侧的土地来说，可以在其中建造各种幽僻的小路，其中的一些小路，无论太阳有多大，都是浓荫遮蔽的。还可以将其中的一些小路建成能遮风挡雨的，当风狠狠刮着的时候，你就犹如在一个避风的走廊里行走。而且这类小路的两端都应建有树篱，可将风阻挡在外；这些有遮蔽的小路应该用碎石更为细致地铺设，不要种草，因为容易打湿鞋袜。在许多这些小路边，你应种植各式各样的果树，使之或依墙而立，或排列成行。然而一般来说，需要遵循的是，你的这些果树在小路边的种植应雅致、宽阔和低矮，不宜过高，果树的周围应种植秀丽的花卉，但稀疏和分散的种植就好，以免妨碍树木的生长。在两侧土地的尽头，我认为应各有一座有一定高度的小山，在上面使树篱围墙与胸齐平，可眺望田野。

就主体花园来说，我不反对在两侧应设有美观大方、植有果树的小路；园中还应有种植着果树的小丘，带有布置得大方有序的设座椅的凉亭；但这些不应布置得过于紧凑，而使主花园被封闭起来，空气也可以自由流通。至于荫凉之处，我想主要依靠两侧地面的小路来获得，如果愿意，你就可以在一年或一日的炎热之时，到那里去散步；但主花园是为一年之中最温和宜人的时节而设计的，在炎热的夏季，则是针对清晨和黄昏，或阴天。

至于鸟舍，我并不喜欢，除非它们巨大到可以在其中铺设草皮，并且其中种植有树木和灌木；那样鸟儿才能有更多的活动范围和自然栖息之所，在鸟舍的地面上也不会有污秽物出现。

至此我已经给一个君王的花园大致勾勒了一番，部分是通过建议，部分是通过描绘，还不能算是一个模型，仅仅是花园的一些大致线条而已；而且在这方面我也不惜成本。但成本对于王公贵族来说算不了什么，因为他们大多时候都采纳工匠的建议，不惜斥巨资去装点他们的花园；有时为了壮观宏伟、堂皇富丽还添加雕像等诸如此类的物品，但这些对于花园的真正乐趣却是毫无助益。

论交涉

一般而言，通过言谈进行交涉比通过书信要好，而通过第三者进行调解又比本人出面要好。书信在如下情况中应用是好的，即当一个人想要通过反馈的信件获取一个答复时，或者一个人将来在辩护中可以出示他个人的信件时，又或者交涉若是被打断或者被只字片言地听到而有危害的时候。亲自进行交涉会较好的情况是，当一个人的容貌能够令人肃然起敬时，就像通常在下属面前那样，或者在一些微妙的场合下，当看着谈话对象的面容就能获得这场交涉还要进行多久的提示的时候；还有一般情况下，当一个人需要给自己保留一定的自由，不论是否认的自由还是解释的自由的时候。在调解人的选择上，最好是选择那种性格坦率的人，这种人会按要求完成他们的使命，并且回来如实地汇报其成绩；而不是选择那种狡诈的人，这种人会设法用别人的功绩来荣耀自己，并且在报告中将事情描述得无往不利。同样的，也应任用那些一经雇用便尽职尽责的人，因为这会使得事半功倍；并且应任用那些才能与其职责相当的人，例如大胆的人适合于告诫，精于言辞的人适合于说服，灵活的人适合于调查和观察，顽固唐突的人适合于处理那些对自身不太有利的事务。而且也应使用那些此前你任用他们处理事务时拥有幸运和占有优势的人；因为这些经历会增加他们的自信，并且他们会尽力去保持他们的名声。与人打交道、交谈时由远及近较好，而不是一开始就直奔主题，除非你旨在通过一些突然的提问让其感到意外和惊讶。与那些有所欲求的人打交道，比起与那些已经达到他们目的的人打交道要好。如果一个人与另一个人打交道是建立在一定条件上的，那么事情的开端或者所采取的第一个行动就是至关重要的；一个人没有理由要求对方先行，除非事情的本质确定了谁应首先采取行动；或者一个人能说服另一方，使其确定在其他事情或方面他仍然是有利用价值的；又或者他自身被视为一个相当有信誉的人。所有交涉的实践无非就是去显现，或者去任用。人在被信任时、情绪激动时、未察觉未戒备时、迫不得已时，也就是当他们要办成某事而缺乏恰当的借口时，最能显现自我。如果你要任用某些人，你不仅要知道他的品性和风格，以便对其进行引导；还要了解其目标，以便对其进行说服；或者要知道他的短处与长处，以便能使其感到敬畏；或者要了解其他对其有利害关系的人，以便对其进行控制。在与老奸巨猾的人打交道时，我们必须明确他们的目的，以理解他们的言谈；对他们出言简约而谨慎是错不了的，言谈也应使他们出乎意料为佳。在所有艰难的交涉中，一个人应当不希冀同时播种和收获，而是应当细心和充分地为交涉的事务进行准备，并逐步地促使其成熟。

论请托者

许多肮脏的勾当和谋划都有人包揽承担，然而私人求情的的确确败坏了公众的利益。许多很好的事情被心术不正者承担；我在这里所说的不仅仅是那些腐败堕落的人，也包括了那些并不打算真正做事情的投机取巧的人。一些接受求情之托的人实际上根本没有想要去做一些实际的事情，但如果他们看到借助其他人这件事情会有起色的时候，他们就会心安理得地去获得感谢，或接受第二次酬谢，又或者至少与此同时对请托者的希望能造成一定影响。一些人接受别人的请托仅仅是为了有机会对其他人进行阻挠；或是凭此制造一些信息用于他们一直没有适当借口来对付的那些人，当这些行为得以实现后，他们并不关心被请托之事的动向；或者，一般而言，接受请托之人是将别人的事务作为一种能有利于自身事务发展的事情而看待的。而且，有些人承应下别人的请托，是抱着让这些事情不能做成的想法，其目的在于取悦对立的一方或竞争者。的确，在每一件请托的事情中，都是有一定的对错之分的；如果是一场纠纷的请托，就有公平公正的对错问题；如果是一桩请愿的请托，则有功过的问题。如果在审判中一个人受到感情的左右偏向了错误的一方，他最好使用他的影响力去和解这件事情，而不是做得太过分。如果私情使得一个人偏向了在功绩方面不占优势的一方，他在这样做的同时，最好不要贬损或伤害成就更突出的一方。在一个人遇到不甚了解的请托案例时，不妨用其去请教一些值得信任和有见地的朋友，从他们那里能够知晓这些请托的事务的处理是否会涉及信誉；但这些咨询者的选择应当审慎，因为弄不好就会被别人牵着鼻子走。请托者对于拖延和辜负十分地厌恶，所以如果要拒绝接受请托，一开始就要坦率地讲清楚，要么就仅仅在事成之后再进行报告，还有就是不要索取超过自己应得的酬谢，这不仅仅是高尚的，而且也是得体的。在被接受的请托中，第一次进行的请托往往是没什么分量的。但我们应考虑的是请托人的信任，如果不是因为他，关于此事的一些消息就难以获得，不能从其中获取了好处却让他继续用其他方法到别处再寻求帮助，而是应该在一定程度上补偿他的发现。对一件被请托之事价值的无知是愚蠢；而对一件被请托之事是非的无知就是良知的缺乏。请托过程中行事机密是最为可取的方法，因为对请托之事鲁莽地大肆声张会使得一类请托者感到泄气，但也使得另一类请托者行动迅速和更为清醒。时机得当对于请托之事至关紧要。我认为，时机得当不仅仅指受请托之人会将事情承应下来，同时也指不会受到其他人的阻挠。一个人在选择他需要任用的人时，应选择最适合的人，而不是选择最有权势的人，应选择处理专门事务的人而不是选择统管一切的人。如果一个人初次的请托遭到拒绝时表现得既不沮丧也非不满，那么所获得的补偿就是会使得下一次请托成功。在一个得到宠爱的人那里，“应要求得比适当的更多，这样你才能得到你所应得到的”〔1〕不失为一条好准则，否则对于请托之事要求的提出只能是渐进的，因为一开始就冒险的话会失去他的请托者，而以后若还是如此的话，他就不仅会失去他的请托者，同时也会失去他之前获得的好感。对一个大人物索要一封信函被认为是最容易不过的事情，然而如果此事缺乏一个好的理由，那么其名誉就会大打折扣。再没有比如今这些替人奔走、包揽请托的人更糟糕的了，因为他们只是妨碍公共事务的毒药和传染病。

注释

〔1〕　出自坤体良《雄辩家的教育》第4卷，第5章16节。原文为拉丁文。

论学问

治学益于陶冶情操、修身养性、增长才干。陶冶情操这一主要用途，在于独处和隐居之时；修身养性体现在言谈举止之间；增长才干则体现于事务的判断和处置。因为行家里手虽能践行，并且可能在特殊事物上能够逐一进行判别；但就统筹兼顾以及事务的策划和统领来说，只有那些有学识的人才能做得最好。在学问上花费过多的时间容易懒惰；将学问过多地用于修身养性是矫情；完全依赖学问中的规则做出判断是读书人的学究气。治学使得性情更为完善，并且学识也通过经验得到完善，因为天赋的能力有如野生的植物，需要通过治学来修剪；而学问本身给予的方向引导又过于宽泛，除非它们得到经验的约束。狡猾的人蔑视学问，单纯的人钦佩学问，聪明的人使用学问；学问的传授并不包括学问自身如何被使用，而学问的运用是在学问之外并且高于学问的一种智慧，要通过观察来获得。读书不是为了要辩驳，也不是要盲目信从，更不是为了寻找谈资和讨论的话题，而是为了权衡和思考。一些书籍是需要慢慢品味的，而其他的一些则可以囫囵吞枣，还有少数的书籍需要咀嚼和消化，也就是说，一些书籍只需阅读其中部分的章节；另一些可以阅读，但不需非常仔细；而为数不多的一些书应勤勉地、全神贯注地从头至尾阅读。一些书籍也可以请人代为阅读，并请其将书中的内容摘录好，但这只能用于书中那些并不十分重要的论述，以及那些层次不很高的书籍；否则对书籍的过滤就像对水的过滤一样，只留下浮光掠影之物。读书使人充实，交谈使人机敏，写作则使人严谨。因此，如果一个人几乎不写作，那么他需要有很强的记忆力；如果一个人交谈甚少，那么他需要机智的头脑；如果一个人读书很少，那么他需要许多狡猾，使得他看起来像是知道那些他所不了解的东西一样。读史使人明智，读诗使人聪慧，数学使人精细，自然哲学使人深沉，伦理学使人庄重，逻辑学和修辞学使人能够论辩自如。“学问塑造人的个性。”〔1〕而且，没有什么才智中的阻滞和障碍，不能通过适当学问的锤炼来解除，就像躯体中的疾病可以通过适当的锻炼来排除一样。滚球有益于肾脾，射箭有益于胸肺，缓和的步行有益于肠胃，骑马有益于头脑，诸如此类。所以如果一个人的才智偏离了正道，就让他学习数学；因为在证明中，如果心思有一点点偏移，他就不得不从头再来。如果他的才智不善于区分或发现差异，就让他学习经院学者，因为他们非常注重细节（吹毛求疵）。如果他不善于对事物深入探究，并且不善于使用一件事情证明或是说明另一件事情，就让他学习律师办案。由此，心智的各种缺陷都可以通过学习得到改善。

注释

〔1〕　出自奥维德的《古代名媛》，第15章第83节。原文为拉丁文。

论虚荣

伊索有一则寓言十分精彩，〔1〕“苍蝇坐在战车车轮的轮轴上说：‘看我扬起了多大一片尘土啊！’”一些爱慕虚荣的人也是如此，不管事情是自己发展或是受到更大力量的推动，如果他们能与其拉上一点关联，他们就认为那是自己推动的。那些好炫耀的人必然是好搞派系活动的，因为所有夸耀的勇气都立足于比较之上。他们必然会极度地将自己大肆吹嘘，他们也不可能保守秘密，因此没有什么效用，如同法国谚语所说：“空话讲得多，却不做实事。”不过这种品性在民政事务中却有一定的用处。当一个观点或声誉的美德或善意需要造就时，这类人便会是很好的鼓吹者。再有，就如提图斯·李维〔2〕在安太阿卡斯〔3〕和埃托利亚人的案例〔4〕中所注意到的，“对双方都说谎有时会造成惊人的效果”，如果一个人在两个君王之间进行交涉，要将他们联合起来对付第三方，就会对一方将另一方的力量夸大，有时他在人与人之间周旋，他就会在一方那里佯称他对另外一方有着更大的利益关系，从而在两边都抬高自己的声誉。在这类情况中，结果通常是无中生有，因为谎言足以产生看法，而看法会带来实际的行为。在军队统领和士兵那里，自负是必不可少的要点，因为就像铁与铁的磨砺会使其更锋利，夸耀使得一个人的士气能鼓舞另一个人。在那些需要冲锋陷阵和出生入死的大事业中，有虚荣自傲本性的人的参与，无疑会为事业注入活力，而那些有扎实敦厚和稳重清醒性格的人更像是船的压舱物而不像是风帆。在学识的名声上，如果没有值得炫耀的羽毛，那么飞黄腾达必然是迟缓的。“写《虚荣之轻视》一书的人，也不反对让自己的名字出现于题页上。”〔5〕苏格拉底、亚里士多德〔6〕、盖伦〔7〕，都是洋溢着炫耀性格的人。虚荣心的确能助使一个人名垂千古，而美德却不是因此而能流芳百世，它获得它的名誉在于人的本性，而不是来自间接的努力。西塞罗、塞内加、小普林尼〔8〕的美名能经久不衰，如果他们自身不是有些虚荣心与之相结合的话：就像涂油漆一样，油漆不仅使天花板发亮而且也使之能够持久。但说了这么多，当我说到虚荣时，我不是指的泰西塔斯描述的缪西阿努斯〔9〕的那种性格：他有一种能够漂亮地炫耀他的一切言行的本领”，〔10〕因为这样的行为并不是炫耀，而是自然而然的宽宏和审慎；并且在一些人身上，这不仅仅是动人的，而且是优雅高尚的。因为道歉、礼让和适度的谦逊，都是夸耀的技巧。而在这些技巧当中，没有人能比小普林尼所指出那种更为巧妙了，也就是在自己也具有的优点方面，毫不吝啬地慷慨赞扬和夸赞他人。普林尼在这一点上风趣地写道：“夸赞别人是对的，因为被夸赞的人在你所夸赞的那一点上不是比你强就是比你弱。如果他比你弱，那么既然他能得到夸赞，你就应该得到更多；如果他比你强，那么如果他不被夸赞，你就更不应该被夸赞。”〔11〕虚荣的人被聪明的人所诟病，被愚昧的人所钦佩，被食客所追捧，同时也是他们自己吹嘘炫耀的奴隶。

注释

〔1〕　不是出自伊索，而是出自洛伦佐·贝夫拉丘亚。

〔2〕　李维（公元前59～公元17），古罗马著名的历史学家。——译者注

〔3〕　安太阿卡斯，叙利亚的国王，与埃托利亚人结盟对抗罗马，但被击败了。见李维的《历史》第35卷，第12篇和第17至18篇。

〔4〕　一个埃托利亚人游说安太阿卡斯与希腊结盟反对罗马，他一方面对叙利亚夸大希腊的实力，另一方面对希腊夸大叙利亚的实力，促成结盟。——译者注

〔5〕　出自西塞罗《图斯库兰讨论集》，第1章第15节。原文为拉丁文。

〔6〕　亚里士多德（公元前384～前322），古希腊哲学家，柏拉图的学生、也是亚历山大大帝的老师。——译者注

〔7〕　盖伦（Claudius Galenus of Pergamum，129～200）古罗马医学家，他的理论影响西方医学超过一千年时间。——译者注

〔8〕　小普林尼（Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus，64～约113），律师、作家、罗马元老，是罗马作家、科学家老普林尼（Gaius Plinius Secundus，23～79）的外甥。——译者注

〔9〕　缪西阿努斯（Gaius Licinius Mucianus），古罗马将军、政治家、作家。——译者注

〔10〕　出自李维《历史》，第2卷第80篇。原文为拉丁文。

〔11〕　出自小普林尼《书信集》，第6卷第17篇第4节。

论愤怒

追求完全地把愤怒消除，只不过是斯多葛学派的夸口罢了。我们有更好的神谕：“可以生气，但不要犯下罪过。不要让你的怒气到太阳落山还没有消除。”〔1〕愤怒应加以限制和抑制，不论是在性质上还是在时间上。我们将首先谈谈发怒的自然倾向和习性如何得到缓和与平息。其次，谈谈有特定动因的愤怒如何抑制，或至少使其不要造成危害。第三，谈谈如何激起或平息他人的愤怒。

就第一点来说：除了对愤怒造成的后果，以及它会如何干扰人们的生活进行深入的思考和考虑，绝无其他方法。这样做的最佳时机是在愤怒的爆发完全过去之后，再对其进行回顾。塞内加说得很好，“愤怒就像毁灭，当它落到一个东西上时它自己也粉身碎骨”。〔2〕《圣经》劝诫我们：“要以耐性保持我们的灵魂。”〔3〕若有人失去耐性，也就失去了他的灵魂。人不能变成蜂，

“把它们的生命留在所蜇的伤口之中。”〔4〕

愤怒的确是一种卑下的品性；因为它通常充分地暴露在它所统治的那些人的弱点中：儿童、妇女、老人、病人。人们最好应注意到的是，发怒时应带着轻蔑而不是带着恐惧，如此便能使其看起来超越了伤害而不是被伤害所击倒。这是容易做到的，如果一个人在这件事情上严于律己的话。

就第二点来说：愤怒的原因和动机主要有三类。首先，对于伤害过于敏感，因为没有人会因为自己未感到受伤害而愤怒的；因此脆弱娇嫩的人必然常常发怒，他们有太多的事情烦扰，而这些事情对于更强健的性格来说根本算不了什么。其次就是在受到伤害的情形中，领悟或构想到伤害中充满了轻蔑和侮辱；因为轻蔑会直接导致愤怒，不仅与伤害导致的愤怒相当，甚至更甚。从而，当人们善于从状况中分辨出轻蔑，他们无疑将会自己的怒火燃烧得更旺。最后，触及一个人声誉的意见会将促使愤怒更为加剧。在这一点上的补救办法是，一个人应该拥有，如冈佐洛〔5〕所习惯于说的：“一张绳索更为粗大的荣誉之网。”不过在抑制愤怒的所有方法中，最好不过的就是时间，并且让一个人相信，他报复的时机尚未来临，但他可以预见它到来的时刻；所以其间他会保持平静，蓄势待发。

如果怒气已经将一个人完全占据，要将愤怒抑制而不至于犯错，那就有两件事情你必须要特别注意。其一，避免极端尖酸刻薄的语言，尤其如果它们是尖刻且切中要害的；就“一般的恶言相向”来说倒不会有太大问题；再则，怒气当头时，人也不可失信泄密，因为那样会使得他在社会中被排斥。其二，你不可因怒火中烧而独断地中止任何事务；不管你如何地显示你的怨恨和恼怒，不要做出任何让事情无法挽回的举动。

就激发和平息他人的愤怒来说：关键主要在于选择时机，当人们最烦心和情绪最糟糕时，是激怒他们的时机。同样，通过收集（就像前面所论及的〔6〕）所有你能找到的事例来给你的蔑视火上浇油。而对怒气的平息有两种正好相反的办法。前者是，当第一次和一个人论及一桩令人恼怒的事务时，要选择好的时机，因为第一印象是非常深刻的。而另一种办法是去尽可能地割断，即将伤害与轻蔑侮辱之间的联系割断，将它归为误解、恐惧、热情或任何你愿意归为的东西。

注释

〔1〕　见《新约·以弗所书》，第4章26节。——译者注

〔2〕　出自塞内加《论愤怒》，第1卷第1章第2节。

〔3〕　见《新约·路加福音》，第21章第9节。

〔4〕　出自维吉尔《农事诗》，第4卷第238行。原文为拉丁文。

〔5〕　冈佐洛，即贺南戴兹·德·科尔多瓦，西班牙将军，逝于1515年。——译者注

〔6〕　《论残疾》一文当中有谈到。——译者注。

Francis Bacon

Of Empire

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Contens

Of Revenge

Of Parents and Children

Of Marriage and Single Life

Of Envy

Of Love

Of Great Place

Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature

Of Travel

Of Empire

Of Cunning

Of Wisdom for a Man's Self

Of Innovations

Of Expense

Of Regiment of Health

Of Suspicion

Of Discourse

Of Riches

Of Ambition

Of Beauty

Of Deformity

Of Building

Of Gardens

Of Negotiating

Of Suitors

Of Studies

Of Vainglory

Of Anger

返回总目录

Of Revenge

Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking revenge a man is but even with his enemy, but in passing it over he is superior, for it is a prince's part to pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man to pass by an offence.〔1〕That which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men have enough to do with things present and to come: therefore they do but trifle with themselves that labour in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase himself profit or pleasure or honour or the like. Therefore why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better than me? And if any man should do wrong merely out of ill nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or briar, which prick and scratch, because they can do no other. The most tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is no law to remedy: but then let a man take heed the revenge be such as there is no law to punish; else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous the party should know whence it cometh. This is the more generous, for the delight seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party repent. But base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus, Duke of Florence,〔2〕had a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable: You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive our enemies; but you never read that we are commanded to forgive our friends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we (saith he) take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also?〔3〕And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate: as that for the death of Caesar, for the death of Pertinax, for the death of Henry the Third of France, and many more. But in private revenges it is not so. Nay rather, vindicative persons live the life of witches, who, as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate.

注释

〔1〕　From Proverbs 19.11.

〔2〕　Cosimo de' Medici, d. 1574: the saying has not been traced.

〔3〕　Job 2.10.

Of Parents and Children

The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor they will not utter the other. Children sweeten labours, but they make misfortunes more bitter: they increase the cares of life, but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts, but memory, merit, and noble works are proper to men. And surely a man shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded from childless men, which have sought to express the images of their minds, where those of their bodies have failed. So the care of posterity is most in them that have no posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent towards their children, beholding them as the continuance not only of their kind but of their work; and so both children and creatures.

The difference in affection of parents towards their several children is many times unequal, and sometimes unworthy, especially in the mother. As Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames the mother.〔1〕A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the youngest made wantons, but in the midst some that are as it were forgotten, who many times nevertheless prove the best. The illiberality of parents in allowance towards their children is an harmful error, makes them base, acquaints them with shifts, makes them sort with mean company, and makes them surfeit more when they come to plenty. And therefore the proof is best when men keep their authority towards their children, but not their purse. Men have a foolish manner (both parents and schoolmasters and servants) in creating and breeding an emulation between brothers during childhood, which many times sorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The Italians make little difference between children and nephews or near kinsfolks; but so they be of the lump, they care not though they pass not through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much a like matter, insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle or a kinsman more than his own parent, as the blood happens. Let parents choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean their children should take, for then they are most flexible. And let them not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as thinking they will take best to that which they have most mind to. It is true that if the affection or aptness of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it: but generally the precept is good, Optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetudo [Choose what is best, and habit will make it pleasant and easy].〔2〕Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the elder are disinherited.

注释

〔1〕　Proverbs 10.1.

〔2〕　A saying ascribed to the followers of Pythagoras, in Plutarch, On Exile, 8 (Moralia, 602B).

Of Marriage and Single Life

He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune, for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men, which both in affection and means have married and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason that those that have children should have greatest care of future times, unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are who, though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account future times impertinences. Nay, there are some other that account wife and children but as bills of charges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men that take a pride in having no children, because they may be thought so much the richer. For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great rich man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge of children, as if it were an abatement to his riches. But the most ordinary cause of a single life is liberty, especially in certain self-pleasing and humorous minds, which are so sensible of every restraint as they will go near to think their girdles and garters to be bonds and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best servants; but not always best subjects, for they are light to run away; and almost all fugitives are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen, for charity will hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magistrates, for if they be facile and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly in their hortatives put men in mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity; and single men, though they be many times more charitable, because their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side, they are more cruel and hard-hearted (good to make severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving husbands, as was said of Ulysses, Vetulam suam praetulit immortalitat [He preferred his old wife to immortality].〔1〕Chaste women are often proud and forward, as presuming upon the merit of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds both of chastity and obedience in the wife if she think her husband wise, which she will never do if she find him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses. So as a man may have a quarrel to marry when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise men that made answer to the question, when a man should marry: A young man not yet, an elder man not at all. It is often seen that bad husbands have very good wives; whether it be that it raiseth the price of their husband's kindness when it comes, or that the wives take a pride in their patience. But this never fails if the bad husbands were of their own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they will be sure to make good their own folly.

注释

〔1〕　From Cicero, On the Orator, Ⅰ.44.

Of Envy

There be none of the affections which have been noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy. They both have vehement wishes; they frame themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions; and they come easily into the eye, especially upon the presence of the objects: which are the points that conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be. We see likewise the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye, and the astrologers call the evil influences of the stars evil aspects, so that still there seemeth to be acknowledged, in the act of envy, an ejaculation or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have been so curious as to note that the times when the stroke or percussion of an envious eye doth most hurt are when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph, for that sets an edge upon envy: and besides, at such times the spirits of the person envied do come forth most into the outward parts, and so meet the blow.

But leaving these curiosities (though not unworthy to be thought on in fit place), we will handle what persons are apt to envy others; what persons are most subject to be envied themselves; and what is the difference between public and private envy.

A man that hath no virtue in himself ever envieth virtue in others. For men's minds will either feed upon their own good or upon others' evil; and who wanteth the one will prey upon the other; and whoso is out of hope to attain to another's virtue will seek to come at even hand by depressing another's fortune.

A man that is busy and inquisitive is commonly envious. For to know much of other men's matters cannot be because all that ado may concern his own estate: therefore it must needs be that he taketh a kind of play-pleasure in looking upon the fortunes of others. Neither can he that mindeth but his own business find much matter for envy. For envy is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets, and doth not keep home: Non est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus [No one is inquisitive without being malevolent as well].〔1〕

Men of noble birth are noted to be envious towards new men when they rise. For the distance is altered, and it is like a deceit of the eye, that when others come on they think themselves go back.

Deformed persons and eunuchs and old men and bastards are envious. For he that cannot possibly mend his own case will do what he can to impair another's […]

The same is the case of men that rise after calamities and misfortunes. For they are as men fallen out with the times, and think other men's harms a redemption of their own sufferings.

They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and vainglory, are ever envious. For they cannot want work, it being impossible but many in some one of those things should surpass them. Which was the character of Hadrian the Emperor, that mortally envied poets and painters and artificers in works wherein he had a vein to excel.

Lastly, near kinsfolks and fellows in office and those that have been bred together are more apt to envy their equals when they are raised. For it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointeth at them, and cometh oftener into their remembrance, and incurreth likewise more into the note of others; and envy ever redoubleth from speech and fame. Cain's envy was the more vile and malignant towards his brother Abel, because when his sacrifice was better accepted there was nobody to look on. Thus much for those that are apt to envy.

Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy. First, persons of eminent virtue, when they are advanced, are less envied. For their fortune seemeth but due unto them, and no man envieth the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the comparing of a man's self, and where there is no comparison, no envy; and therefore kings are not envied but by kings. Nevertheless it is to be noted that unworthy persons are most envied at their first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better; whereas, contrariwise, persons of worth and merit are most envied when their fortune continueth long. For by that time, though their virtue be the same, yet it hath not the same lustre, for fresh men grow up that darken it.

Persons of noble blood are less envied in their rising, for it seemeth but right done to their birth. Besides, there seemeth not much added to their fortune; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat hotter upon a bank or steep rising ground than upon a flat. And for the same reason those that are advanced by degrees are less envied than those that are advanced suddenly and per saltum [at a bound].

Those that have joined with their honour great travails, cares, or perils are less subject to envy. For men think that they earn their honours hardly, and pity them sometimes; and pity ever healeth envy. Wherefore you shall observe that the more deep and sober sort of politic persons, in their greatness, are ever bemoaning themselves what a life they lead, chanting a quanta patimur [how many things we suffer!]. Not that they feel it so, but only to abate the edge of envy. But this is to be understood of business that is laid upon men, and not such as they call unto themselves. For nothing increaseth envy more than an unnecessary and ambitious engrossing of business. And nothing doth extinguish envy more than for a great person to preserve all other inferior officers in their full rights and pre-eminences of their places. For by that means there be so many screens between him and envy.

Above all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the greatness of their fortunes in an insolent and proud manner, being never well but while they are showing how great they are, either by outward pomp, or by triumphing over all opposition or competition. Whereas wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves sometimes of purpose to be crossed and overborne in things that do not much concern them. Notwithstanding, so much is true, that the carriage of greatness in a plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy and vainglory) doth draw less envy than if it be in a more crafty and cunning fashion. For in that course a man doth but disavow fortune, and seemeth to be conscious of his own want in worth, and doth but teach others to envy him.

Lastly, to conclude this part: as we said in the beginning that the act of envy had somewhat in it of witchcraft, so there is no other cure of envy but the cure of witchcraft; and that is, to remove the lot (as they call it) and to lay it upon another. For which purpose, the wiser sort of great persons bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom to derive the envy that would come upon themselves; sometimes upon ministers and servants, sometimes upon colleagues and associates, and the like; and for that turn there are never wanting some persons of violent and undertaking natures, who, so they may have power and business, will take it at any cost.

Now, to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in public envy, whereas in private there is none. For public envy is as an ostracism, that eclipseth men when they grow too great. And therefore it is a bridle also to great ones to keep them within bounds.

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia, goeth in the modern languages by the name of discontentment, of which we shall speak in handling sedition. It is a disease in a state like to infection. For as infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it, so when envy is gotten once into a state, it traduceth even the best actions thereof, and turneth them into an ill odour. And therefore there is little won by intermingling of plausible actions. For that doth argue but a weakness and fear of envy, which hurteth so much the more; as it is likewise usual in infections, which, if you fear them, you call them upon you.

This public envy seemeth to beat chiefly upon principal officers or ministers, rather than upon kings and estates themselves. But this is a sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when the cause of it in him is small, or if the envy be general in a manner upon all the ministers of an estate, then the envy (though hidden) is truly upon the state itself. And so much of public envy or discontentment, and the difference thereof from private envy, which was handled in the first place.

We will add this in general, touching the affection of envy, that of all other affections it is the most importune and continual. For of other affections there is occasion given but now and then. And therefore it was well said, Invidia festos dies non agit [Envy keeps no holidays], for it is ever working upon some or other. And it is also noted that love and envy do make a man pine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual. It is also the vilest affection, and the most depraved, for which cause it is the proper attribute of the devil, who is called the envious man, that soweth tares amongst the wheat by night;〔2〕as it always cometh to pass that envy worketh subtly and in the dark, and to the prejudice of good things, such as is the wheat.

注释

〔1〕　Plautus, Stichus, Ⅰ.3.54.

〔2〕　Matthew 13.25.

Of Love

The stage is more beholding to love than the life of man. For as to the stage, love is ever matter of comedies and now and then of tragedies; but in life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a siren, sometimes like a fury. You may observe that amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent) there is not one that hath been transported to the mad degree of love; which shows that great spirits and great business do keep out this weak passion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius, the half-partner of the empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius, the decemvir and lawgiver: whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous man and inordinate, but the latter was an austere and wise man. And therefore it seems (though rarely) that love can find entrance not only into an open heart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus, Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus [Each of us is enough of an audience for the other]:〔1〕as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make himself subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the eye, which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion and how it braves the nature and value of things, by this: that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase; for whereas it hath been well said that the arch-flatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self, certainly the lover is more. For there was never proud man thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover doth of the person loved: and therefore it was well said, That it is impossible to love and to be wise.〔2〕Neither doth this weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved, but to the loved most of all, except the love be reciproque. For it is a true rule that love is ever rewarded either with the reciproque or with an inward and secret contempt. By how much the more men ought to beware of this passion, which loseth not only other things, but itself […] For whosoever estee-meth too much of amorous affection quitteth both riches and wisdom. This passion hath his floods in the very times of weakness, which are great prosperity and great adversity (though this latter hath been less observed); both which times kindle love and make it more fervent, and therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their serious affairs and actions of life; for if it check once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men that they can no ways be true to their own ends. I know not how, but martial men are given to love: I think it is but as they are given to wine; for perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret inclination and motion towards love of others, which, if it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth naturally spread itself towards many, and maketh men become humane and charitable; as it is seen sometime in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind; friendly love perfecteth it; but wanton love corrupteth and embaseth it.

注释

〔1〕　Seneca, Epistles, Ⅶ.11.

〔2〕　Publilius Syrus, Sententiae, 15.

Of Great Place

Men in great places are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or state, servants of fame, and servants of business. So as they have no freedom, neither in their persons nor in their actions nor in their times. It is a strange desire to seek power and to lose liberty; or to seek power over others and to lose power over a man's self. The rising unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to greater pains; and it is sometimes base, and by indignities men come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing. Cum non sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere. [When you are no longer what you were there is no reason for wishing to live].〔1〕Nay, retire men cannot when they would; neither will they when it were reason, but are impatient of privateness even in age and sickness, which require the shadow: like old townsmen that will be still sitting at their street door though thereby they offer age to scorn. Certainly great persons had need to borrow other men's opinions to think themselves happy, for if they judge by their own feeling they cannot find it: but if they think with themselves what other men think of them, and that other men would fain be as they are, then they are happy as it were by report, when perhaps they find the contrary within. For they are the first that find their own griefs, though they be the last that find their own faults. Certainly men in great fortunes are strangers to themselves, and while they are in the puzzle of business they have no time to tend their health, either of body or mind. Illi mors gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi [Death lies heavily on the man who, too well known to others, dies a stranger to himself].〔2〕In place there is a licence to do good and evil, whereof the latter is a curse; for in evil the best condition is not to will, the second not to can. But power to do good is the true and lawful end of aspiring. For good thoughts, though God accept them, yet towards men are little better than good dreams except they be put in act, and that cannot be without power and place as the vantage and commanding ground. Merit and good works is the end of man's motion, and conscience of the same is the accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be partaker of God's theatre, he shall likewise be partaker of God's rest. Et conversus Deus, ut aspiceret opera quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit quod omnia essent bona nimis [And God turned to look upon the works which his hands had made, and he saw that they were all very good]:〔3〕and then the sabbath. In the discharge of thy place set before thee the best examples, for imitation is a globe of precepts. And after a time set before thee thine own example, and examine thyself strictly whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect not also the examples of those that have carried themselves ill in the same place; not to set off thyself by taxing their memory, but to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform therefore without bravery or scandal of former times and persons, but yet set it down to thyself as well to create good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things to the first institution, and observe wherein and how they have degenerate, but yet ask counsel of both times: of the ancient time, what is best; and of the latter time, what is fittest. Seek to make thy course regular, that men may know beforehand what they may expect; but be not too positive and peremptory; and express thyself well when thou digressest from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place, but stir not questions of jurisdiction, and rather assume thy right in silence and de facto than voice it with claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights of inferior places, and think it more honour to direct in chief than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps and advices touching the execution of thy place, and do not drive away such as bring thee information, as meddlers, but accept of them in good part. The vices of authority are chiefly four: delays, corruption, roughness and facility. For delays: give easy access; keep times appointed; go through with that which is in hand; and interlace not business but of necessity. For corruption: do not only bind thine own hands or thy servants' hands from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offering. For integrity used, doth the one; but integrity professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, doth the other. And avoid not only the fault but the suspicion. Whosoever is found variable, and changeth manifestly without manifest cause, giveth suspicion of corruption. Therefore always when thou changest thine opinion or course, profess it plainly and declare it together with the reasons that move thee to change; and do not think to steal it. A servant or a favourite, if he be inward, and no other apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought but a by-way to close corruption. For roughness, it is a needless cause of discontent: severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs from authority ought to be grave, and not taunting. As for facility, it is worse than bribery. For bribes come but now and then; but if importunity or idle respects lead a man, he shall never be without. As Solomon saith: To respect persons is not good, for such a man will transgress for a piece of bread.〔4〕It is most true that was anciently spoken, A place showeth the man.〔5〕And it showeth some to the better, and some to the worse. Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi imperasset [Everyone would have thought him fit for Empire - had he never been Emperor], saith Tacitus of Galba;〔6〕but of Vespasian he saith, Solus imperantium Vespasianus mutatus in melius [Vespasian was the only Emperor who was changed for the better by empire];〔7〕though the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of manners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy and generous spirit, whom honour amends. For honour is, or should be, the place of virtue; and as in nature things move violently to their place, and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is violent, in authority settled and calm. All rising to great place is by a winding stair; and if there be factions, it is good to side a man's self whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the memory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly; for if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them when they look not for it, than exclude them when they have reason to look to be called. Be not too sensible or too remembering of thy place in conversation and private answers to suitors; but let it rather be said, When he sits in place, he is another man.

注释

〔1〕　Cicero, Letters to Friends, Ⅶ.3.4.

〔2〕　Seneca, Thyestes, 401-3.

〔3〕　Genesis 1.31.

〔4〕　Proverbs 28.21.

〔5〕　A saying attributed to, among others, Solon and Pittacus (two of the Seven Sages of Greece).

〔6〕　Histories, Ⅰ.49.

〔7〕　Histories, Ⅰ.50.

Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature

I take goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal of men, which is that the Grecians call philanthropia; and the word humanity (as it is used) is a little too light to express it. Goodness I call the habit, and goodness of nature the inclination. This of all virtues and dignities of the mind is the greatest, being the character of the Deity; and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing, no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological virtue charity, and admits no excess, but error. The desire of power in excess caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess caused man to fall: but in clarity there is no excess, neither can angel or man come in danger by it. The inclination to goodness is imprinted deeply in the nature of man, insomuch that if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other living creatures: as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Busbechius〔1〕reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople had like to have been stoned for gagging in a waggishness a long-billed fowl. Errors indeed in this virtue of goodness or charity may be committed. The Italians have an ungracious proverb, Tanto buon che val niente: So good, that he is good for nothing. And one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas Machiavel, had the confidence to put in writing, almost in plain terms, that the Christian faith had given up good men in prey to those that are tyrannical and unjust.〔2〕Which he spake, because indeed there was never law or sect or opinion did so much magnify goodness as the Christian religion doth. Therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, it is good to take knowledge of the errors of an habit so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be not in bondage to their faces or fancies, for that is but facility or softness, which taketh an honest mind prisoner … The example of God teacheth the lesson truly: He sendeth his rain and maketh his sun to shine upon the just and unjust;〔3〕but he doth not rain wealth nor shine honour and virtues upon men equally. Common benefits are to be communicate with all, but peculiar benefits with choice. And beware how in making the portraiture thou breakest the pattern: for divinity maketh the love of ourselves the pattern, the love of our neighbours but the portraiture. Sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor, and follow me;〔4〕but sell not all thou hast, except thou come and follow me; that is, except thou have a vocation wherein thou mayest do as much good with little means as with great, for otherwise in feeding the streams thou driest the fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness, directed by right reason; but there is in some men, even in nature, a disposition towards it, as on the other side there is a natural malignity. For there be that in their nature do not affect the good of others. The lighter sort of malignity turneth but to a crossness or frowardness or aptness to oppose or difficilness or the like; but the deeper sort, to envy and mere mischief. Such men in other men's calamities are, as it were, in season, and are ever on the loading part: not so good as the dogs that licked Lazarus' sores, but like flies that are still buzzing upon anything that is raw; misanthropi, that make it their practice to bring men to the bough, and yet have never a tree for the purpose in their gardens, as Timon had.〔5〕Such dispositions are the very errors of human nature, and yet they are the fittest timber to make great politics of; like to knee-timber, that is good for ships that are ordained to be tossed, but not for building houses that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of goodness are many. If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joins to them. If he be compassionate towards the afflictions of others, it shows that his heart is like the noble tree that is wounded itself when it gives the balm. If he easily pardons and remits offences, it shows that his mind is planted above injuries, so that he cannot be shot. If he be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their trash. But above all, if he have St Paul's perfection, that he would wish to be an anathema from Christ for the salvation of his brethren,〔6〕it shows much of a divine nature, and a kind of conformity with Christ himself.

注释

〔1〕　Flemish scholar and ambassador to the Turks, d. 1592.

〔2〕　Discourses, Ⅱ.2, Machiavelli.

〔3〕　Matthew 5.45.

〔4〕　Mark 10.21.

〔5〕　Timon of Athens, known as the Misanthrope, announced that since he was going to cut down a tree in his garden on which many had hanged themselves, would-be suicides should use it at once.

〔6〕　Romans 9.3.

Of Travel

Travel in the younger sort is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school and not to travel. That young men travel under some tutor or grave servant, I allow well; so that he be such a one that hath the language and hath been in the country before, whereby he may be able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen in the country where they go, what acquaintances they are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place yieldeth. For else young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries; but in land-travel, wherein so much is to be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter to be registered than observation. Let diaries therefore be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are: the courts of princes, specially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes, and so of consistories ecclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are therein extant; the walls and fortifications of cities and towns, and so the havens and harbours; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations, and lectures, where any are; shipping and navies; houses and gardens of state and pleasure near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; exchanges; burses; warehouses; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like; comedies, such whereunto the better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where they go. After all which the tutors or servants ought to make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masques, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and such shows, men need not to be put in mind of them; yet are they not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you must do. First, as was said, he must have some entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must have such a servant or tutor as knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let him carry with him also some card or book describing the country where he travelleth, which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary. Let him not stay long in one city or town; more or less as the place deserveth, but not long: nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodging from one end and part of the town to another, which is a great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himself from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him upon his removes from one place to another procure recommendation to some person of quality residing in the place whither he removeth, that he may use his favour in those things he desireth to see or know. Thus he may abridge his travel with much profit. As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel, that which is most of all profitable is acquaintance with the secretaries and employed men of ambassadors, for so in travelling in one country he shall suck the experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds which are of great name abroad, that he may be able to tell how the life agreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with care and discretion to be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and words. And let a man beware how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrelsome persons, for they will engage him into their own quarrels. When a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath travelled altogether behind him, but maintain a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaintance which are of most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his discourse than in his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse, let him be rather advised in his answers than forwards to tell stories; and let it appear that he doth not change his country manners for those of foreign parts, but only prick in〔1〕some flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the customs of his own country.

注释

〔1〕　Plant.

Of Empire

It is a miserable state of mind to have few things to desire and many things to fear. And yet that commonly is the case of kings, who, being at the highest, want matter of desire, which makes their minds more languishing; and have many representations of perils and shadows, which makes their minds the less clear. And this is one reason also of that effect which the Scripture speaketh of, that the king's heart is inscrutable.〔1〕For multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant desire that should marshal and put in order all the rest, maketh any man's heart hard to find or sound. Hence it comes likewise that princes many times make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon toys: sometimes upon a building; sometimes upon erecting of an order; sometimes upon the advancing of a person; sometimes upon obtaining excellency in some art or feat of the hand - as Nero for playing on the harp, Domitian for certainty of the hand with the arrow, Commodus for playing at fence, Caracalla for driving chariots,〔2〕and the like. This seemeth incredible unto those that know not the principle, that the mind of man is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small things than by standing at a stay in great. We see also that kings that have been fortunate conquerors in their first years, it being not possible for them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some check or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be superstitious and melancholy; as did Alexander the Great, Diocletian〔3〕and in our memory Charles the Fifth〔4〕and others. For he that is used to go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out of his own favour and is not the thing he was.

To speak now of the true temper of empire: it is a thing rare and hard to keep, for both temper and distemper consist of contraries. But it is one thing to mingle contraries, another to interchange them. The answer of Apollonius to Vespasian is full of excellent instruction. Vespasian asked him, What was Nero's overthrow? He answered: Nero could touch and tune the harp well; but in government, sometimes he used to wind the pins too high, sometimes to let them down too low.〔5〕And certain it is that nothing destroyeth authority so much as the unequal and untimely interchange of power pressed too far, and relaxed too much.

This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times in princes' affairs is rather fine deliveries and shiftings of dangers and mischiefs when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them aloof. But this is but to try masteries with fortune. And let men beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared: for no man can forbid the spark nor tell whence it may come. The difficulties in princes' business are many and great, but the greatest difficulty is often in their own mind. For it is common with princes (saith Tacitus) to will contradictories: Sunt plerumque regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrariae [The desires of kings are mostly vehement, and incompatible with one another].〔6〕For it is the solecism of power to think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.

Kings have to deal with their neighbours, their wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their nobles, their second-nobles or gentlemen, their merchants, their commons, and their men of war; and from all these arise dangers, if care and circumspection be not used.

First for their neighbours: there can no general rule be given (the occasions are so variable), save one which ever holdeth. Which is that princes do keep due sentinel that none of their neighbours do overgrow so (by increase of territory, by embracing of trade, by approaches, or the like) as they become more able to annoy them than they were. And this is generally the work of standing councils to foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate of kings, King Henry the Eighth of England, Francis the First, King of France, and Charles the Fifth, Emperor, there was such a watch kept, that none of the three could win a palm of ground but the other two would straightways balance it, either by confederation or, if need were, by a war, and would not in any wise take up peace at interest. And the like was done by that league (which Guicciardini saith was the security of Italy) made between Ferdinando, King of Naples, Lorenzius Medices, and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the one of Florence, the other of Milan.〔7〕Neither is the opinion of some of the Schoolmen to be received, that a war cannot justly be made but upon a precedent injury or provocation. For there is no question but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is a lawful cause of a war.

For their wives: there are cruel examples of them. Livia is infamed for the poisoning of her husband; Roxolana, Solyman's wife, was the destruction of that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha, and otherwise troubled his house and succession;〔8〕Edward the Second of England his queen〔9〕had the principal hand in the deposing and murther of her husband. This kind of danger is then to be feared chiefly when the wives have plots for the raising of their own children, or else that they be advoutresses.

For their children: the tragedies likewise of dangers from them have been many. And generally the entering of fathers into suspicion of their children hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of Mustapha (that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession of the Turks from Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue and of strange blood; for that Selymus the Second was thought to be supposititious. The destruction of Crispus, a young prince of rare towardness, by Constantinus the Great, his father, was in like manner fatal to his house: for both Constantinus and Constance, his sons, died violent deaths; and Constantius, his other son, did little better; who died indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken arms against him.〔10〕The destruction of Demetrius, son to Philip the Second of Macedon, turned upon the father, who died of repentance.〔11〕And many like examples there are, but few or none where the fathers had good by such distrust; except it were where the sons were up in open arms against them, as was Selymus the First against Bajazet, and the three sons of Henry the Second, King of England.

For their prelates: when they are proud and great, there is also danger from them. As it was in the times of Anselmus and Thomas Becket, archbishops of Canterbury, who with their crosiers did almost try it with the king's sword; and yet they had to deal with stout and haughty kings, William Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second.〔12〕The danger is not from that state but where it hath a dependence of foreign authority, or where the churchmen come in and are elected, not by the collation of the king or particular patrons, but by the people.

For their nobles: to keep them at a distance, it is not amiss; but to depress them may make a king more absolute, but less safe, and less able to perform anything that he desires. I have noted it in my history of King Henry the Seventh of England, who depressed his nobility; whereupon it came to pass that his times were full of difficulties and troubles, for the nobility, though they continued loyal unto him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business. So that in effect he was fain to do all things himself.

For their second-nobles: there is not much danger from them, being a body dispersed. They may sometimes discourse high, but that doth little hurt; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobility, that they grow not too potent; and lastly, being the most immediate in authority with the common people, they do best temper popular commotions.

For their merchants: they are vena porta [the gate vein], and if they flourish not, a kingdom may have good limbs, but will have empty veins and nourish little. Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to the king's revenue, for that that he wins in the hundred,〔13〕he loseth in the shire, the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of trading rather decreased.

For their commons: there is little danger from them, except it be where they have great and potent heads, or where you meddle with the point of religion or their customs or means of life.

For their men of war: it is a dangerous state where they live and remain in a body, and are used to donatives; whereof we see examples in the janizaries,〔14〕and Praetorian bands〔15〕of Rome. But trainings of men, and arming them in several places, and under several commanders, and without donatives, are things of defence, and no danger.

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times, and which have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances: Memento quod es homo, and Memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei [Remember that you are a man and remember that you are a god, or God's viceregent]: the one bridleth their power, and the other their will.

注释

〔1〕　Proverbs 25.3.

〔2〕　Nero, d. AD 68, Domitian, d. 96, Commodus, d. 192, and Caracalla, d. 217, were Roman emperors; all notorious for their great cruelties.

〔3〕　Roman emperor, d. 313, said to be the first sovereign to resign his power voluntarily (he abdicated in 305).

〔4〕　German (and Holy Roman) emperor, d. 1558; he abdicated the empire in 1556.

〔5〕　Philostratus, Life of Apollonius, Ⅴ.28.

〔6〕　Not Tacitus, but from Sallust, Jugurthine War, CXIII.1.

〔7〕　See Guicciardini, History of Italy, Ⅰ.

〔8〕　Solyman the Magnificent (or Selymus the First), Sultan of Turkey 1520-66, put his eldest son Mustapha to death at the instigation of his wife, the prince's stepmother, Roxalana. One of her own sons, Bayezid (or Bajazet), rebelled and was executed by Solyman. The Sultan was succeeded by another of her sons, Selymus Ⅱ, who appeared to have none of Solyman's features or character.

〔9〕　Isabella of Anjou, d. 1358.

〔10〕　Constantine the Great, Roman emperor 306-37, executed his son Crispus in 326. At Constantine's death, the empire was divided between his sons: Constantine Ⅱ was killed while attempting to overthrow his brother Constans (whom Bacon calls Constance); Constans himself was murdered in his bed by his own men; and Constantius died in 361 on his way to oppose Julian, who had been proclaimed emperor by his troops.

〔11〕　Demetrius, son of Philip Ⅴ of Macedon, was falsely accused of treason by his brother, the crown-prince Perseus. His father had him put to death in 179 BC. Bacon has confused Philip Ⅴ with Philip Ⅱ, father of Alexander the Great.

〔12〕　Anselm, d. 1109, was twice sent into exile for asserting the rights of the clergy against the secular authority of William Rufus and Henry Ⅰ. Thomas à Becket was murdered in Canterbury Cathedral in 1170 after violent disputes with Henry Ⅱ.

〔13〕　A subdivision of the shire.

〔14〕　Bodyguards to the Turkish sultans.

〔15〕　Bodyguards to the Roman emperors.

Of Cunning

We take cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And certainly there is great difference between a cunning man and a wise man, not only in point of honesty, but in point of ability. There be that can pack the cards, and yet cannot play well; so there are some that are good in canvasses and factions, that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one thing to understand persons, and another thing to understand matters: for many are perfect in men's humours, that are not greatly capable of the real part of business, which is the constitution of one that hath studied men more than books. Such men are fitter for practice than for counsel, and they are good but in their own alley: turn them to new men, and they have lost their aim; so as the old rule to know a fool from a wise man, Mitte ambos nudos ad ignotos et videbis [Send both of them naked among strangers and then you will see],〔1〕doth scarce hold for them. And because these cunning men are like haberdashers of small wares, it is not amiss to set forth their shop.

It is a point of cunning to wait upon him with whom you speak, with your eye, as the Jesuits give it in precept; for there be many wise men that have secret hearts and transparent countenances. Yet this would be done with a demure abasing of your eye sometimes, as the Jesuits also do use.

Another is that when you have anything to obtain of present dispatch, you entertain and amuse the party with whom you deal with some other discourse, that he be not too much awake to make objections. I knew a counsellor and secretary that never came to Queen Elizabeth of England with bills to sign, but he would always first put her into some discourse of estate, that she mought the less mind the bills.

The like surprise may be made by moving things when the party is in haste and cannot stay to consider advisedly of that is moved.

If a man would cross a business that he doubts some other would handsomely and effectually move, let him pretend to wish it well, and move it himself in such sort as may foil it.

The breaking off in the midst of that one was about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a greater appetite in him with whom you confer, to know more.

And because it works better when anything seemeth to be gotten from you by question than if you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a question by showing another visage and countenance than you are wont; to the end to give occasion for the party to ask what the matter is of the change […]

In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice by some whose words are of less weight, and to reserve the more weighty voice to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the question upon the other's speech […]

In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the world; as to say, The world says, or, There is a speech abroad.

I knew one that, when he wrote a letter, he would put that which was most material in the postscript, as if it had been a by-matter.

I knew another that, when he came to have speech, he would pass over that that he intended most, and go forth, and come back again and speak of it as of a thing that he had almost forgot.

Some procure themselves to be surprised at such times as it is like the party that they work upon will suddenly come upon them, and to be found with a letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they are not accustomed; to the end they may be apposed of those things which of themselves they are desirous to utter.

It is a point of cunning to let fall those words in a man's own name, which he would have another man learn and use, and thereupon take advantage. I knew two that were competitors for the secretary's place in Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter between themselves, and would confer one with another upon the business; and the one of them said that to be a secretary in the declination of a monarchy was a ticklish thing, and that he did not affect it. The other straight caught up those words and discoursed with divers of his friends that he had no reason to desire to be secretary in the declination of a monarchy. The first man took hold of it and found means it was told the Queen; who, hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill as she would never after hear of the other's suit.

There is a cunning, which we in England call The turning of the cat in the pan, which is, when that which a man says to another, he lays it as if another had said it to him. And to say truth, it is not easy, when such a matter passed between two, to make it appear from which of them it first moved and began […]

Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, as there is nothing they would insinuate but they can wrap it into a tale, which serveth both to keep themselves more in guard and to make others carry it with more pleasure.

It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape the answer he would have, in his own words and propositions, for it makes the other party stick the less.

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak somewhat they desire to say, and how far about they will fetch, and how many other matters they will beat over to come near it. It is a thing of great patience, but yet of much use.

A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like to him, that having changed his name, and walking in Paul's, another suddenly came behind him and called him by his true name, whereat straightways he looked back.

But these small wares and petty points of cunning are infinite, and it were a good deed to make a list of them, for that nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise.

But certainly some there are that know the resorts and falls of business, that cannot sink into the main of it; like a house that hath convenient stairs and entries but never a fair room. Therefore you shall see them find out pretty looses in the conclusion, but are no ways able to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly they take advantage of their inability, and would be thought wits of direction. Some build rather upon the abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own proceedings. But Solomon saith: Prudens advertit ad gressus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos [The wise man pays attention to the steps he is taking: the fool turns aside to the snares].〔2〕

注释

〔1〕　Attributed to Aristippus in Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Ⅱ.73.

〔2〕　Derived from Proverbs 14.8 and 15.

Of Wisdom for a Man's Self

An ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a shrewd thing in an orchard or garden. And certainly men that are great lovers of themselves waste the public. Divide with reason between self-love and society, and be so true to thyself as thou be not false to others, specially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's actions, himself. It is right earth, for that only stands fast upon his own centre, whereas all things that have affinity with the heavens move upon the centre of another, which they benefit. The referring of all to a man's self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince, because themselves are not only themselves, but their good and evil is at the peril of the public fortune. But it is a desperate evil in a servant to a prince, or a citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own ends; which must needs be often eccentric to the ends of his master or state. Therefore let princes or states choose such servants as have not this mark, except they mean their service should be made but the accessary. That which maketh the effect more pernicious is that all proportion is lost. It were disproportion enough for the servant's good to be preferred before the master's, but yet it is a greater extreme when a little good of the servant shall carry things against a great good of the master's. And yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt servants, which set a bias upon their bowl, of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their master's great and important affairs. And for the most part, the good such servants receive is after the model of their own fortune, but the hurt they sell for that good is after the model of their master's fortune. And certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as they will set an house on fire, and it were but to roast their eggs. And yet these men many times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but to please them and profit themselves; and for either respect they will abandon the good of their affairs.

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. But that which is specially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of Pompey) are sui amantes sine rivali [lovers of themselves without rivals],〔1〕are many times unfortunate. And whereas they have all their time sacrificed to themselves, they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom to have pinioned.

注释

〔1〕　From Letters to his Brother Quintus, Ⅲ. 8.

Of Innovations

As the births of living creatures at first are ill-shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births of time. Yet notwithstanding, as those that first bring honour into their family are commonly more worthy than most that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom attained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature as it stands perverted, hath a natural motion, strongest in continuance; but good, as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely ever medicine is an innovation, and he that will not apply new remedies must expect new evils. For time is the greatest innovator, and if time of course alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end? It is true that what is settled by custom, though it be not good, yet at least it is fit. And those things which have long gone together are as it were confederate within themselves: whereas new things piece not so well, but though they help by their utility, yet they trouble by their inconformity. Besides, they are like strangers, more admired and less favoured. All this is true, if time stood still, which contrariwise moveth so round that a froward retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an innovation; and they that reverence too much old times are but a scorn to the new. It were good therefore that men in their innovations would follow the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly and by degrees scarce to be perceived. For otherwise, whatsoever is new is unlooked for, and ever it mends some, and pairs other: and he that is holpen takes it for a fortune, and thanks the time; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and imputeth it to the author. It is good also not to try experiments in states, except the necessity be urgent or the utility evident; and well to beware that it be the reformation that draweth on the change, and not the desire of change that pretendeth the reformation. And lastly, that the novelty, though it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect, and, as the Scripture saith, that we make a stand upon the ancient way, and then look about us, and discover what is the straight and right way, and so to walk in it.〔1〕

注释

〔1〕　Jeremiah 6.16.

Of Expense

Riches are for spending; and spending for honour and good actions. Therefore extraordinary expense must be limited by the worth of the occasion, for voluntary undoing may be as well for a man's country as for the kingdom of heaven. But ordinary expense ought to be limited by a man's estate, and governed with such regard, as it be within his compass, and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants, and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be less than the estimation abroad. Certainly if a man will keep but of even hand, his ordinary expenses ought to be but to the half of his receipts; and if he think to wax rich, but to the third part. It is no baseness for the greatest to descend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not upon negligence alone, but doubting to bring themselves into melancholy, in respect they shall find it broken. But wounds cannot be cured without searching. He that cannot look into his own estate at all, had need both choose well those whom he employeth, and change them often; for new are more timorous and less subtle. He that can look into his estate but seldom, it behoveth him to turn all to certainties. A man had need, if he be plentiful in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in some other. As, if he be plentiful in diet, to be saving in apparel; if he be plentiful in the hall, to be saving in the stable; and the like. For he that is plentiful in expenses of all kinds will hardly be preserved from decay. In clearing of a man's estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too sudden, as in letting it run on too long. For hasty selling is commonly as disadvantageable as interest. Besides, he that clears at once will relapse, for, finding himself out of straits, he will revert to his customs: but he that cleareth by degrees induceth a habit of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his mind as upon his estate.

Certainly, who hath a state to repair may not despise small things, and commonly it is less dishonourable to abridge petty charges than to stoop to petty gettings. A man ought warily to begin charges which once begun will continue; but in matters that return not he may be more magnificent.

Of Regiment of Health

There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of physic: a man's own observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health. But it is a safer conclusion to say, This agreeth not well with me, therefore I will not continue it, than this, I find no offence of this, therefore I may use it. For strength of nature in youth passeth over many excesses which are owing a man till his age. Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do the same things still; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden change in any great point of diet, and if necessity enforce it, fit the rest to it. For it is a secret, both in nature and state, that it is safer to change many things than one. Examine thy customs of diet, sleep, exercise, apparel and the like, and try in anything thou shalt judge hurtful, to discontinue it by little and little; but so as if thou dost find any inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it again: for it is hard to distinguish that which is generally held good and wholesome from that which is good particularly and fit for thine own body. To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of meat and of sleep and of exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting. As for the passions and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious fears, anger fretting inwards, subtle and knotty inquisitions, joys and exhilarations in excess, sadness not communicated. Entertain hopes, mirth rather than joy, variety of delights rather than surfeit of them, wonder and admiration (and therefore novelties), studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustrious objects (as histories, fables, and contemplations of nature). If you fly physic in health altogether, it will be too strange for your body when you shall need it. If you make it too familiar, it will work no extraordinary effect when sickness cometh. I commend rather some diet for certain seasons than frequent use of physic, except it be grown into a custom: for those diets alter the body more, and trouble it less. Despise no new accident in your body, but ask opinion of it. In sickness, respect health principally; and in health, action. For those that put their bodies to endure in health may, in most sicknesses which are not very sharp, be cured only with diet and tendering.Celsus could never have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a wise man withal, when he giveth it for one of the great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclination to the more benign extreme: use fasting and full eating, but rather full eating; watching and sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but rather exercise; and the like. So shall nature be cherished and yet taught masteries. Physicians are some of them so pleasing and conformable to the humour of the patient, as they press not the true cure of the disease; and some other are so regular in proceeding according to art for the disease, as they respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient. Take one of a middle temper; or, if it may not be found in one man, combine two of either sort; and forget not to call as well the best acquainted with your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.

Of Suspicion

Suspicions amongst thoughts are like bats amongst birds: they ever fly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at the least well guarded, for they cloud the mind, they leese friends, and they check with business, whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not in the heart but in the brain, for they take place in the stoutest natures, as in the example of Henry the Seventh of England. There was not a more suspicious man, nor a more stout. And in such a composition they do small hurt, for commonly they are not admitted but with examination whether they be likely or no: but in fearful natures they gain ground too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know little; and therefore men should remedy suspicion by procuring to know more, and not to keep their suspicions in smother. What would men have? Do they think those they employ and deal with are saints? Do they not think they will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves than to them? Therefore there is no better way to moderate suspicions than to account upon such suspicions as true and yet to bridle them as false. For so far a man ought to make use of suspicions, as to provide as, if that should be true that he suspects, yet it may do him no hurt. Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers are but buzzes, but suspicions that are artificially nourished and put into men's heads by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly the best mean to clear the way in this same wood of suspicions is frankly to communicate them with the party that he suspects: for thereby he shall be sure to know more of the truth of them than he did before, and withal shall make that party more circumspect not to give further cause of suspicion. But this would not be done to men of base natures, for they, if they find themselves once suspected, will never be true. The Italian says, Sospetto licentia fede [suspicion permits fidelity to depart], as if suspicion did give a passport to faith; but it ought rather to kindle it to discharge itself.

Of Discourse

Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of judge-ment, in discerning what is true; as if it were a praise to know what might be said, and not what should be thought. Some have certain commonplaces and themes wherein they are good, and want variety; which kind of poverty is for the most part tedious, and, when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion, and again to moderate and pass to somewhat else, for then a man leads the dance. It is good, in discourse and speech of conversation, to vary and intermingle speech of the present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest: for it is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade anything too far. As for jest, there be certain things which ought to be privileged from it; namely, religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's present business of importance, and any case that deserveth pity. Yet there be some that think their wits have been asleep, except they dart out somewhat that is piquant and to the quick. That is a vein which would be bridled:

Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.

[Spare the whip, boy, and pull harder on the reins]〔1〕

And generally, men ought to find the difference between saltness and bitterness. Certainly he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory. He that questioneth much shall learn much and content much, but especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh; for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his questions not be troublesome, for that is fit for a poser. And let him be sure to leave other men their turns to speak. Nay, if there be any that would reign and take up all the time, let him find means to take them off and to bring others on, as musicians use to do with those that dance too long galliards. If you dissemble sometimes your knowledge of that you are thought to know, you shall be thought another time to know that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought to be seldom and well chosen. I knew one was wont to say in scorn, He must needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of himself. And there is but one case wherein a man may commend himself with good grace, and that is in commending virtue in another, especially if it be such a virtue whereunto himself pretendeth. Speech of touch towards others should be sparingly used, for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming home to any man. I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England, whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his house; the other would ask of those that had been at the other's table, Tell truly, was there never a flout or dry blow〔2〕given? To which the guest would answer, Such and such a thing passed. The lord would say, I thought he would mar a good dinner. Discretion of speech is more than eloquence, and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good words or in good order. A good continued speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows slowness; and a good reply or second speech, without a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in the course are yet nimblest in the turn, as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare. To use too many circumstances ere one come to the matter is wearisome; to use none at all is blunt.

注释

〔1〕　Ovid, Metamorphoses, Ⅱ.127.

〔2〕　A jibe or sarcastic comment.

Of Riches

I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue. The Roman word is better, impedimenta. For as the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue. It cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth the march; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory. Of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the distribution; the rest is but conceit. So saith Solomon, Where much is, there are many to consume it; and what hath the owner but the sight of it with his eyes?〔1〕The personal fruition in any man cannot reach to feel great riches: there is a custody of them, or a power of dole and donative of them, or a fame of them; but no solid use to the owner. Do you not see what feigned prices are set upon little stones and rarities, and what works of ostentation are undertaken, because there might seem to be some use of great riches? But then you will say, they may be of use to buy men out of dangers or troubles. As Solomon saith, Riches are as a stronghold in the imagination of the rich man.〔2〕But this is excellently expressed, that it is in imagination, and not always in fact. For certainly great riches have sold more men than they have bought out. Seek not proud riches, but such as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly. Yet have no abstract nor friarly contempt of them. But distinguish, as Cicero saith well of Rabirius Postumus: In studio rei amplificandae apparebat non avaritiae praedam sed instrumentum bonitati quaert [In his keeness to increase his wealth it was apparent that he was not seeking a prey for avarice to feed upon, but an instrument for good to work with].〔3〕Hearken also to Solomon, and beware of hasty gathering of riches: Qui festinat ad divitias, non erit insons [He who makes haste to be rich shall not be innocent].〔4〕The poets feign that when Plutus (which is riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps and goes slowly, but when he is sent from Pluto, he runs and is swift of foot: meaning, that riches gotten by good means and just labour pace slowly, but when they come by the death of others (as by the course of inheritance, testaments, and the like), they come tumbling upon a man. But it mought be applied likewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil. For when riches come from the devil (as by fraud and oppression and unjust means), they come upon speed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of them foul. Parsimony is one of the best, and yet is not innocent, for it withholdeth men from works of liberality and charity. The improvement of the ground is the most natural obtaining of riches, for it is our great mother's blessing, the earth's; but it is slow. And yet where men of great wealth do stoop to husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in England, that had the greatest audits of any man in my time: a great grazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber-man, a great collier, a great corn-master, a great lead-man, and so of iron, and a number of the like points of husbandry: so as the earth seemed a sea to him, in respect of the perpetual importation. It was truly observed by one, that himself came very hardly to a little riches, and very easily to great riches. For when a man's stock is come to that, that he can expect the prime of markets, and overcome those bargains which for their greatness are few men's money, and be partner in the industries of younger men, he cannot but increase mainly. The gains of ordinary trades and vocations are honest, and furthered by two things chiefly: by diligence, and by a good name for good and fair dealing. But the gains of bargains are of a more doubtful nature, when men shall wait upon others' necessity, broke by servants and instruments to draw them on, put off others cunningly that would be better chapmen, and the like practices, which are crafty and naught. As for the chopping of bargains, when a man buys not to hold, but to sell over again, that commonly grindeth double, both upon the seller and upon the buyer. Sharings do greatly enrich, if the hands be well chosen that are trusted. Usury is the certainest means of gain, though one of the worst, as that whereby a man doth eat his bread in sudore vultus alieni [in the sweat of another man's brow];〔5〕and besides, doth plough upon Sundays. But yet certain though it be, it hath flaws, for that the scriveners and brokers do value unsound men to serve their own turn. The fortune in being the first in an invention or in a privilege doth cause sometimes a wonderful overgrowth in riches, as it was with the first sugar man in the Canaries. Therefore if a man can play the true logician, to have as well judgement as invention, he may do great matters, especially if the times be fit. He that resteth upon gains certain shall hardly grow to great riches, and he that puts all upon adventures doth oftentimes break and come to poverty: it is good therefore to guard adventures with certainties that may uphold losses. Monopolies and coemption of wares for re-sale, where they are not restrained, are great means to enrich, especially if the party have intelligence what things are like to come into request, and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they are gotten by flattery, feeding humours, and other servile conditions, they may be placed amongst the worst. As for fishing for testaments and executorships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, testamenta et orbos tanquam indagine capi [he seized wills and wardships as with a net]〔6〕), it is yet worse, by how much men submit themselves to meaner persons than in service. Believe not much them that seem to despise riches, for they despise them that despair of them; and none worse when they come to them. Be not pennywise; riches have wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves, sometimes they must be set flying to bring in more. Men leave their riches either to their kindred, or to the public, and moderate portions prosper best in both. A great state left to an heir is as a lure to all the birds of prey round about to seize on him, if he be not the better stablished in years and judgement. Likewise glorious gifts and foundations are like sacrifices without salt, and but the painted sepulchres of alms, which soon will putrefy and corrupt inwardly. Therefore measure not thine advancements by quantity, but frame them by measure: and defer not charities till death, for certainly if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth so is rather liberal of another man's than of his own.

注释

〔1〕　Ecclesiastes 5.11.

〔2〕　Proverbs 18.11.

〔3〕　The Speech on behalf of Rabirius Postumus, Ⅱ. Cicero is not speaking of Rabirius Postumus, but his father, Gains Curtius.

〔4〕　Proverbs 28.20.

〔5〕　See Genesis 3.19.

〔6〕　Annals, XIII.42.

Of Ambition

Ambition is like choler, which is an humour that maketh men active, earnest, full of alacrity, and stirring, if it be not stopped. But if it be stopped, and cannot have his way, it becometh adust, and thereby malign and venomous. So ambitious men, if they find the way open for their rising, and still get forward, they are rather busy than dangerous; but if they be checked in their desires, they become secretly discontent and look upon men and matters with an evil eye, and are best pleased when things go backward, which is the worst property in a servant of a prince or state. Therefore it is good for princes, if they use ambitious men, to handle it so as they be still progressive and not retrograde; which because it cannot be without inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures at all. For if they rise not with their service, they will take order to make their service fall with them. But since we have said it were good not to use men of ambitious natures, except it be upon necessity, it is fit we speak in what cases they are of necessity. Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be they never so ambitious; for the use of their service dispenseth with the rest, and to take a soldier without ambition is to pull off his spurs. There is also great use of ambitious men in being screens to princes in matters of danger and envy, for no man will take that part, except he be like a seeled dove, that mounts and mounts because he cannot see about him. There is use also of ambitious men in pulling down the greatness of any subject that overtops […] Since therefore they must be used in such cases, there resteth to speak how they are to be bridled that they may be less dangerous. There is less danger of them if they be of mean birth, than if they be noble; and if they be rather harsh of nature, than gracious and popular; and if they be rather new raised, than grown cunning and fortified in their greatness. It is counted by some a weakness in princes to have favourites, but it is of all others the best remedy against ambitious great ones. For when the way of pleasuring and displeasuring lieth by the favourite, it is impossible any other should be over-great. Another means to curb them is to balance them by others as proud as they. But then there must be some middle counsellors to keep things steady, for without that ballast the ship will roll too much. At the least, a prince may animate and inure some meaner persons to be as it were scourges to ambitious men. As for the having of them obnoxious to ruin, if they be of fearful natures, it may do well, but if they be stout and daring, it may precipitate their designs and prove dangerous. As for the pulling of them down, if the affairs require it, and that it may not be done with safety suddenly, the only way is the interchange continually of favours and disgraces, whereby they may not know what to expect, and be as it were in a wood. Of ambitions, it is less harmful, the ambition to prevail in great things, than that other, to appear in everything, for that breeds confusion, and mars business. But yet it is less danger to have an ambitious man stirring in business, than great in dependences. He that seeketh to be eminent amongst able men hath a great task, but that is ever good for the public. But he that plots to be the only figure amongst ciphers is the decay of an whole age. Honour hath three things in it: the vantage ground to do good, the approach to kings and principal persons, and the raising of a man's own fortunes. He that hath the best of these intentions, when he aspireth, is an honest man; and that prince that can discern of these intentions in another that aspireth, is a wise prince. Generally let princes and states choose such ministers as are more sensible of duty than of rising; and such as love business rather upon conscience than upon bravery; and let them discern a busy nature from a willing mind.

Of Beauty

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set: and surely virtue is best in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features, and that hath rather dignity of presence than beauty of aspect. Neither is it almost seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great virtue, as if nature were rather busy not to err, than in labour to produce excellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great spirit, and study rather behaviour than virtue. But this holds not always; for Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Bel of France, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael the Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits, and yet the most beautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favour is more than that of colour, and that of decent and gracious motion more than that of favour. That is the best part of beauty which a picture cannot express; no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether Apelles〔1〕or Albert Dürer were the more trifler; whereof the one would make a personage by geometrical proportions, the other, by taking the best parts out of divers faces to make one excellent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody but the painter that made them. Not but I think a painter may make a better face then ever was, but he must do it by a kind of felicity (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in music), and not by rule. A man shall see faces that, if you examine them part by part, you shall find never a good, and yet all together do well. If it be true that the principal part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly it is no marvel though persons in years seem many times more amiable: pulchrorum autumnus pulcher [the autumn of the beautiful is beautiful];〔2〕for no youth can be comely but by pardon, and considering the youth as to make up the comeliness. Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last; and for the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of countenance: but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtues shine, and vices blush.

注释

〔1〕　Greek painter, fourth century BC.

〔2〕　A saying of Euripides, preserved in Plutarch, Alcibiades, Ⅰ.3.

Of Deformity

Deformed persons are commonly even with nature: for as nature hath done ill by them, so do they by nature, being for the most part (as the Scripture saith) void of natural affection and so they have their revenge of nature. Certainly there is a consent between the body and the mind, and where nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the other: Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero [While she errs in the one, she runs a risk in the other]. But because there is in man an election touching the frame of his mind, and a necessity in the frame of his body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes obscured by the sun of discipline and virtue. Therefore it is good to consider of deformity, not as a sign, which is more deceivable, but as a cause, which seldom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath anything fixed in his person that doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and deliver himself from scorn. Therefore all deformed persons are extreme bold - first, as in their own defence, as being exposed to scorn, but in process of time, by a general habit. Also, it stirreth in them industry, and especially of this kind, to watch and observe the weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to repay. Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as persons that they think they may at pleasure despise; and it layeth their competitors and emulators asleep, as never believing they should be in possibility of advancement, till they see them in possession. So that upon the matter, in a great wit deformity is an advantage to rising. Kings in ancient times (and at this present in some countries) were wont to put great trust in eunuchs, because they that are envious towards all are more obnoxious and officious towards one. But yet their trust towards them hath rather been as to good spials and good whisperers than good magistrates and officers. And much like is the reason of deformed persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn, which must be either by virtue or malice. And therefore let it not be marvelled if sometimes they prove excellent persons; as was Agesilaus, Zanger the son of Solyman, Aesop, Gasca, President of Peru; and Socrates may go likewise amongst them, with others.

Of Building

Houses are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use be preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had. Leave the goodly fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted palaces of the poets; who build them with small cost. He that builds a fair house upon an ill seat, committeth himself to prison. Neither do I reckon it an ill seat only where the air is unwholesome, but likewise where the air is unequal. As you shall see many fine seats set upon a knap of ground, environed with higher hills round about it, whereby the heat of the sun is pent in and the wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you shall have, and that suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air only that maketh an ill seat, but ill ways, ill markets, and (if you will consult with Momus) ill neighbours. I speak not of many more: want of water; want of wood, shade, and shelter; want of fruitfulness, and mixture of grounds of several natures; want of prospect; want of level grounds; want of places at some near distance for sports of hunting, hawking, and races; too near the sea, too remote; having the commodity of navigable rivers, or the discommodity of their overflowing; too far off from great cities, which may hinder business, or too near them, which lurcheth all provisions, and maketh everything dear; where a man bath a great living laid together, and where he is scanted. All which, as it is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good to know them and think of them, that a man may take as many as he can, and, if he have several dwellings, that he sort them so, that what he wanteth in the one he may find in the other. Lucullus answered Pompey well, who, when he saw his stately galleries and rooms so large and lightsome in one of his houses, said, Surely an excellent place for summer, but how do you in winter? Lucullus answered, Why, do you not think me as wise as some fowl are, that ever change their abode towards the winter?

To pass from the seat to the house itself; we will do as Cicero doth in the orator's art, who writes books De Oratore, and a book he entitles Orator, whereof the former delivers the precepts of the art, and the latter the perfection. We will therefore describe a princely palace, making a brief model thereof. For it is strange to see, now in Europe, such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial and some others be, and yet scarce a very fair room in them.

First, therefore, I say you cannot have a perfect palace except you have two several sides: a side for the banquet, as is spoken of in the book of Hester, and a side for the household; the one for feasts and triumphs, and the other for dwelling. I understand both these sides to be not only returns, but parts of the front, and to be uniform without, though severally partitioned within; and to be on both sides of a great and stately tower in the midst of the front, that, as it were, joineth them together on either hand. I would have on the side of the banquet, in front, one only goodly room above stairs, of some forty foot high, and under it a room for a dressing or preparing place at times of triumphs. On the other side, which is the household side, I wish it divided at the first into a hall and a chapel (with a partition between), both of good state and bigness; and those not to go all the length, but to have at the further end a winter and a summer parlour, both fair. And under these rooms, a fair and large cellar, sunk under ground, and likewise some privy kitchens, with butteries and pantries, and the like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, of eighteen foot high apiece, above the two wings; and a goodly leads upon the top railed with statuas interposed; and the same tower to be divided into rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise to the upper rooms; let them be upon a fair open newel, and finely railed in with images of wood cast into a brass colour; and a very fair landing place at the top. But this to be, if you do not point any of the lower rooms for a dining place of servants. For otherwise you shall have the servants' dinner after your own: for the steam of it will come up as in a tunnel. And so much for the front. Only, I understand the height of the first stairs to be sixteen foot, which is the height of the lower room.

Beyond this front is there to be a fair court, but three sides of it of a far lower building than the front. And in all the four corners of that court, fair staircases, cast into turrets on the outside, and not within the row of buildings themselves. But those towers are not to be of the height of the front, but rather proportionable to the lower building. Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in summer and much cold in winter. But only some side alleys, with a cross, and the quarters to graze, being kept shorn, but not too near shorn. The row of return, on the banquet side, let it be all stately galleries, in which galleries let there be three or five fine cupolas in the length of it, placed at equal distance, and fine coloured windows of several works. On the household side, chambers of presence and ordinary entertainments, with some bedchambers; and let all three sides be a double house, without thorough-lights on the sides, that you may have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon and afternoon. Cast it also that you may have rooms both for summer and winter, shady for summer, and warm for winter. You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of glass that one cannot tell where to become to be out of the sun or cold. For inbowed windows, I hold them of good use (in cities, indeed, upright do better, in respect of the uniformity towards the street), for they be pretty retiring places for conference; and besides, they keep both the wind and sun off, for that which would strike almost thorough the room doth scarce pass the window. But let them be but few, four in the court, on the sides only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court of the same square and height, which is to be environed with the garden on all sides; and in the inside, cloistered on all sides, upon decent and beautiful arches, as high as the first storey. On the under storey, towards the garden, let it be turned to a grotta, or place of shade or estivation; and only have opening and windows towards the garden; and be level upon the floor, no whit sunk under ground, to avoid all dampishness. And let there be a fountain, or some fair work of statuas, in the midst of this court; and to be paved as the other court was. These buildings to be for privy lodgings on both sides, and the end for privy galleries. Whereof you must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, if the prince or any special person should be sick, with chambers, bedchamber, antecamera, and recamera joining to it. This upon the second storey. Upon the ground storey, a fair gallery, open, upon pillars; and upon the third storey likewise, an open gallery upon pillars, to take the prospect and freshness of the garden. At both corners of the further side, by way of return, let there be two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved, richly hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich cupola in the midst; and all other elegancy that may be thought upon. In the upper gallery too, I wish that there may be, if the place will yield it, some fountains running in divers places from the wall, with some fine avoidances. And thus much for the model of the palace, save that you must have, before you come to the front, three courts. A green court plain, with a wall about it; a second court of the same, but more garnished, with little turrets, or rather embellishments, upon the wall; and a third court, to make a square with the front, but not to be built, nor yet enclosed with a naked wall, but enclosed with terraces, leaded aloft, and fairly garnished, on the three sides; and cloistered on the inside, with pillars and not with arches below. As for offices, let them stand at distance, with some low galleries, to pass from them to the palace itself.

Of Gardens

God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man, without which buildings and palaces are but gross handyworks: and a man shall ever see that when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build stately sooner than to garden finely, as if gardening were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be gardens for all the months in the year, in which severally things of beauty may be then in season. For December and January and the latter part of November, you must take such things as are green all winter: holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypresstrees, yew, pineapple-trees; fir-trees; rosemary, lavender; periwinkle, the white, the purple, and the blue; germander, flags; orange-trees, lemon-trees; and myrtles, if they be stoved; and sweet marjoram, warm set. There followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the mezereon-tree, which then blossoms; crocus vernus both the yellow and the grey; primroses, anemones, the early tulippa, hyacinthus orientalis, chamaïris, fritillaria. For March, there come violets, specially the single blue, which are the earliest; the yellow daffodil, the daisy, the almond-tree in blossom, the peach-tree in blossom, the cornelian-tree in blossom, sweet-briar. In April follow the double white violet, the wall-flower, the stock-gillyflower, the cowslip, flower-de-luces, and lilies of all natures; rosemary flowers, the tulippa, the double peony, the pale daffodil, the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blossom, the damson and plum-trees in blossom, the white-thorn in leaf, the lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, specially the blush pink; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later; honeysuckles, strawberries, bugloss, columbine; the French marigold, flos Africanus: cherry-tree in fruit, ribes, figs in fruit, rasps, vine-flowers, lavender in flowers; the sweet satyrian, with the white flower; herba muscaria, lilium convallium, the apple-tree in blossom. In July come gillyflowers of all varieties, musk-roses, the lime-tree in blossom, early pears and plums in fruit, jennetings, codlins. In August come plums of all sorts in fruit, pears, apricots, barberries, filberts, musk-melons, monk-hoods of all colours. In September come grapes, apples, poppies of all colours, peaches, melocotones, nectarines, cornelians, wardens, quinces. In October and the beginning of November come services, medlars, bullaces, roses cut or removed to come late, hollyhocks, and such like. These particulars are for the climate of London; but my meaning is perceived, that you may have ver perpetuum [perpetual spring], as the place affords.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast flowers of their smells, so that you may walk by a whole row of them, and find nothing of their sweetness, yea, though it be in a morning's dew. Bays likewise yield no smell as they grow, rosemary little, nor sweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the sweetest smell in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes twice a year, about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide. Next to that is the musk-rose. Then the strawberry-leaves dying, with a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of the vines; it is a little dust, like the dust of a bent, which grows upon the cluster in the first coming forth. Then sweet-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlour or lower chamber window. Then pinks and gilly-flowers, specially the matted pink and clove gillyflower. Then the flowers of the lime-tree. Then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean-flowers I speak not, because they are field flowers. But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three: that is, burnet, wild thyme, and water-mints. Therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed prince-like, as we have done of buildings), the contents ought not well to be under thirty acres of ground, and to be divided into three parts: a green in the entrance; a heath or desert in the going forth; and the main garden in the midst; besides alleys on both sides. And I like well that four acres of ground be assigned to the green, six to the heath, four and four to either side, and twelve to the main garden. The green hath two pleasures: the one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept finely shorn; the other, because it will give you a fair alley in the midst by which you may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to enclose the garden. But because the alley will be long, and, in great heat of the year or day, you ought not to buy the shade in the garden by going in the sun thorough the green, therefore you are, of either side the green, to plant a covert alley upon carpenter's work, about twelve foot in height, by which you may go in shade into the garden. As for the making of knots or figures with divers coloured earths, that they may lie under the windows of the house on that side which the garden stands, they be but toys: you may see as good sights many times in tarts. The garden is best to be square, encompassed on all the four sides with a stately arched hedge, the arches to be upon pillars of carpenter's work, of some ten foot high and six foot broad, and the spaces between of the same dimension with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there be an entire hedge of some four foot high, framed also upon carpenter's work; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret, with a belly, enough to receive a cage of birds; and over every space between the arches some other little figure, with broad plates of round coloured glass, gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently slope, of some six foot, set all with flowers. Also I understand that this square of the garden should not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either side ground enough for diversity of side alleys, unto which the two covert alleys of the green may deliver you. But there must be no alleys with hedges at either end of this great enclosure: not at the hither end, for letting your prospect upon this fair hedge from the green; nor at the further end, for letting your prospect from the hedge, through the arches, upon the heath.

For the ordering of the ground within the great hedge, I leave it to variety of device, advising nevertheless that whatsoever form you cast it into, first, it be not too busy or full of work. Wherein I, for my part, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff: they be for children. Little low hedges, round, like welts, with some pretty pyramides, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon frames of carpenter's work. I would also have the alleys spacious and fair. You may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but none in the main garden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount, with three ascents and alleys, enough for four to walk abreast; which I would have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or embossments; and the whole mount to be thirty foot high; and some fine banqueting-house, with some chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass.

For fountains, they are a great beauty and refreshment; but pools mar all, and make the garden unwholesome and full of flies and frogs. Fountains I intend to be of two natures: the one, that sprinkleth or spouteth water, the other, a fair receipt of water, of some thirty or forty foot square, but without fish or slime or mud. For the first, the ornaments of images gilt or of marble, which are in use, do well: but the main matter is so to convey the water as it never stay, either in the bowls or in the cistern; that the water be never by rest discoloured, green or red or the like, or gather any mossiness or putrefaction. Besides that, it is to be cleansed every day by the hand. Also some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. As for the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing-pool, it may admit much curiosity and beauty, wherewith we will not trouble ourselves: as that the bottom be finely paved, and with images, the sides likewise; and withal embellished with coloured glass, and such things of lustre; encompassed also with fine rails of low statuas. But the main point is the same which we mentioned in the former kind of fountain, which is that the water be in perpetual motion, fed by a water higher than the pool and delivered into it by fair spouts, and then discharged away under ground by some equality of bores, that it stay little. And for fine devices, of arching water without spilling, and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, drinking-glasses, canopies, and the like), they be pretty things to look on, but nothing to health and sweetness.

For the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wish it to be framed, as much as may be, to a natural wildness. Trees I would have none in it, but some thickets, made only of sweet-briar and honeysuckle, and some wild vine amongst; and the ground set with violets, strawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet, and prosper in the shade. And these to be in the heath, here and there, not in any order. I like also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills (such as are in wild heaths), to be set, some with wild thyme; some with pinks; some with germander, that gives a good flower to the eye; some with periwinkle; some with violets; some with strawberries; some with cowslips; some with daisies; some with red roses; some with lilium convallium; some with sweet-williams red; some with bear's-foot; and the like low flowers, being withal sweet and sightly. Part of which heaps to be with standards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and part without. The standards to be roses, juniper, holly, barberries (but here and there, because of the smell of their blossom), red currants, gooseberries, rosemary, bays, sweet-briar, and such like. But these standards to be kept with cutting, that they grow not out of course.

For the side grounds, you are to fill them with variety of alleys, private, to give a full shade, some of them, wheresoever the sun be. You are to frame some of them likewise for shelter, that when the wind blows sharp you may walk as in a gallery. And those alleys must be likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind; and these closer alleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because of going wet. In many of these alleys likewise, you are to set fruit-trees of all sorts, as well upon the walls as in ranges. And this would be generally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruit-trees be fair and large, and low, and not steep, and set with fine flowers, but thin and sparingly, lest they deceive the trees. At the end of both the side grounds, I would have a mount of some pretty height, leaving the wall of the enclosures breast high, to look abroad into the fields.

For the main garden, I do not deny but there should be some fair alleys ranged on both sides with fruit-trees, and some pretty tufts of fruit-trees, and arbours with seats, set in some decent order; but these to be by no means set too thick, but to leave the main garden so as it be not close, but the air open and free. For as for shade, I would have you rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you be disposed, in the heat of the year or day; but to make account that the main garden is for the more temperate parts of the year, and, in the heat of summer, for the morning and the evening, or overcast days.

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness as they may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in them; that the birds may have more scope and natural nestling, and that no foulness appear in the floor of the aviary. So I have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by precept, partly by drawing, not a model, but some general lines of it; and in this I have spared for no cost. But it is nothing for great princes, that for the most part taking advice with workmen, with no less cost set their things together; and sometimes add statuas and such things for state and magnificence, but nothing to the true pleasure of a garden.

Of Negotiating

It is generally better to deal by speech than by letter, and by the mediation of a third than by a man's self. Letters are good when a man would draw an answer by letter back again, or when it may serve for a man's justification afterwards to produce his own letter, or where it may be danger to be interrupted or heard by pieces. To deal in person is good when a man's face breedeth regard, as commonly with inferiors, or in tender cases, where a man's eye upon the countenance of him with whom he speaketh may give him a direction how far to go; and generally, where a man will reserve to himself liberty either to disavow or to expound. In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of a plainer sort, that are like to do that that is committed to them, and to report back again faithfully the success, than those that are cunning to contrive out of other men's business somewhat to grace themselves, and will help the matter in report for satisfaction sake. Use also such persons as affect the business wherein they are employed, for that quickeneth much; and such as are fit for the matter, as bold men for expostulation, fair-spoken men for persuasion, crafty men for inquiry and observation, froward and absurd men for business that doth not well bear out itself. Use also such as have been lucky and prevailed before in things wherein you have employed them; for that breeds confidence, and they will strive to maintain their prescription. It is better to sound a person with whom one deals afar off, than to fall upon the point at first, except you mean to surprise him by some short question. It is better dealing with men in appetite, than with those that are where they would be. If a man deal with another upon conditions, the start or first performance is all; which a man cannot reasonably demand, except either the nature of the thing be such which must go before; or else a man can persuade the other party that he shall still need him in some other thing; or else that he be counted the honester man. All practice is to discover, or to work. Men discover themselves in trust, in passion, at unawares, and of necessity, when they would have somewhat done and cannot find an apt pretext. If you would work any man, you must either know his nature and fashions and so lead him; or his ends, and so persuade him; or his weakness and disadvantages, and so awe him; or those that have interest in him, and so govern him. In dealing with cunning persons, we must ever consider their ends, to interpret their speeches; and it is good to say little to them, and that which they least look for. In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look to sow and reap at once, but must prepare business, and so ripen it by degrees.

Of Suitors

Many ill matters and projects are undertaken, and private suits do putrefy the public good. Many good matters are undertaken with bad minds; I mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds that intend not performance. Some embrace suits which never mean to deal effectually in them, but if they see there may be life in the matter by some other mean, they will be content to win a thank, or take a second reward, or at least to make use in the meantime of the suitor's hopes. Some take hold of suits only for an occasion to cross some other; or to make an information whereof they could not otherwise have apt pretext, without care what become of the suit when that turn is served; or generally to make other men's business a kind of entertainment to bring in their own. Nay, some undertake suits with a full purpose to let them fall, to the end to gratify the adverse party or competitor. Surely there is in some sort a right in every suit; either a right of equity, if it be a suit of controversy, or a right of desert, if it be a suit of petition. If affection lead a man to favour the wrong side in justice, let him rather use his countenance to compound the matter than to carry it. If affection lead a man to favour the less worthy in desert, let him do it without depraving or disabling the better deserver. In suits which a man doth not well understand, it is good to refer them to some friend of trust and judgement, that may report whether he may deal in them with honour; but let him choose well his referendaries, for else he may be led by the nose. Suitors are so distasted with delays and abuses, that plain dealing, in denying to deal in suits at first, and reporting the success barely, and in challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved, is grown not only honourable, but also gracious. In suits of favour, the first coming ought to take little place. So far forth consideration may be had of his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could not otherwise have been had but by him, advantage be not taken of the note but the party left to his other means, and in some sort recompensed for his discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit is simplicity; as well as to be ignorant of the right thereof is want of conscience. Secrecy in suits is a great mean of obtaining, for voicing them to be in forwardness may discourage some kind of suitors, but doth quicken and awake others. But timing of the suit is the principal. Timing, I say, not only in respect of the person that should grant it, but in respect of those which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the choice of his mean, rather choose the fittest mean than the greatest mean, and rather them that deal in certain things than those that are general. The reparation of a denial is sometimes equal to the first grant, if a man show himself neither dejected nor discontented. Iniquum petas, ut aequum feras [Ask for more than what is just, so that you may get your due]〔1〕is a good rule where a man hath strength of favour, but otherwise a man were better rise in his suit, for he that would have ventured at first to have lost the suitor, will not in the conclusion lose both the suitor and his own former favour. Nothing is thought so easy a request to a great person as his letter, and yet if it be not in a good cause it is so much out of his reputation. There are no worse instruments than these general contrivers of suits; for they are but a kind of poison and infection to public proceedings.

注释

〔1〕　Quintilian, The Education of an Orator, Ⅳ.5.16.

Of Studies

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgement and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of affairs come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament is affectation; to make judgement wholly by their rules is the humour of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected by experience, for natural abilities are like natural plants that need proyning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others, but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise, poets witty, the mathematics subtle, natural philosophy deep, moral grave, logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abeunt studia in mores [Studies go to make up a man's character].〔1〕Nay, there is no stond or impediment in the wit but may be wrought out by fit studies, like as diseases of the body may have appropriate exercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the head; and the like. So if a man's wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the Schoolmen, for they are cymini sectores [hairsplitters]. If he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' cases. So every defect of the mind may have a special receipt.

注释

〔1〕　Ovid, Heroides, XV.83.

Of Vainglory

It was prettily devised of Aesop,〔1〕The fly sat upon the axle-tree of the chariot wheel, and said, 'What a dust do I raise!' So are there some vain persons that, whatsoever goeth alone or moveth upon greater means, if they have never so little hand in it, they think it is they that carry it. They that are glorious must needs be factious, for all bravery stands upon comparisons. They must needs be violent to make good their own vaunts. Neither can they be secret, and therefore not effectual, but according to the French proverb, Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit: much bruit, little fruit. Yet certainly there is use of this quality in civil affairs. Where there is an opinion and fame to be created, either of virtue or greatness, these men are good trumpeters. Again, as Titus Livius noteth in the case of Antiochus and the Aetolians,〔2〕There are sometimes great effects of cross lies, as, if a man that negotiates between two princes to draw them to join in a war against the third, doth extol the forces of either of them above measure, the one to the other: and sometimes he that deals between man and man raiseth his own credit with both by pretending greater interest than he hath in either. And in these and the like kinds, it often falls out that somewhat is produced of nothing, for lies are sufficient to breed opinion, and opinion brings on substance. In militar commanders and soldiers, vainglory is an essential point, for as iron sharpens iron, so by glory one courage sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise, upon charge and adventure, a composition of glorious natures doth put life into business, and those that are of solid and sober natures have more of the ballast than of the sail. In fame of learning, the flight will be slow without some feathers of ostentation. Qui de contemnenda gloria libros scribunt, nomen suum inscribunt [Men who write books on the worthlessness of glory take care to put their names on the title-page].〔3〕Socrates, Aristotle, Galen, were men full of ostentation. Certainly vainglory helpeth to perpetuate a man's memory, and virtue was never so beholding to human nature, as it received his due at the second hand. Neither had the fame of Cicero, Seneca, Plinius Secundus, borne her age so well, if it had not been joined with some vanity in themselves: like unto varnish, that makes ceilings not only shine but last. But all this while, when I speak of vainglory, I mean not of that property that Tacitus doth attribute to Mucianus, Omnium quae dixerat feceratque arte quadam ostentator [He had a certain skill of displaying to advantage all that he had said or done],〔4〕for that proceeds not of vanity, but of natural magnanimity and discretion, and in some persons is not only comely, but gracious. For excusations, cessions, modesty itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation. And amongst those arts there is none better than that which Plinius Secundus speaketh of, which is to be liberal of praise and commendation to others, in that wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For saith Pliny very wittily: In commending another you do yourself right, for he that you commend is either superior to you in that you commend, or inferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended, you much more; if he be superior, if he be not to be commended, you much less.〔5〕Glorious men are the scorn of wise men, the admiration of fools, the idols of parasites, and the slaves of their own vaunts.

注释

〔1〕　Not Aesop, but Lorenzo Bevilaqua.

〔2〕　Antiochus, King of Syria, allied with the Aetolians against Rome, but was defeated. See Livy, History, XXXV.12 and 17-18.

〔3〕　From Cicero, Tusculan Disputations, Ⅰ.15.

〔4〕　From Histories, Ⅱ.80.

〔5〕　From Letters, Ⅵ.17.4.

Of Anger

To seek to extinguish anger utterly is but a bravery of the Stoics. We have better oracles: Be angry, but sin not. Let not the sun go down upon your anger. Anger must be limited and confined, both in race and in time. We will first speak how the natural inclination and habit to be angry may be attempered and calmed. Secondly, how the particular motions of anger may be repressed, or at least refrained from doing mischief. Thirdly, how to raise anger or appease anger in another.

For the first: there is no other way but to meditate and ruminate well upon the effects of anger, how it troubles man's life. And the best time to do this is to look back upon anger when the fit is throughly over. Seneca saith well that anger is like ruin, which breaks itself upon that it falls.〔1〕The Scripture exhorteth us to possess our souls in patience.〔2〕Whosoever is out of patience is out of possession of his soul. Men must not turn bees,

animasque in vulnere ponunt.

[and lay down their lives in the wound.]〔3〕

Anger is certainly a kind of baseness; as it appears well in the weakness of those subjects in whom it reigns: children, women, old folks, sick folks. Only men must beware that they carry their anger rather with scorn than with fear, so that they may seem rather to be above the injury than below it: which is a thing easily done if a man will give law to himself in it.

For the second point: the causes and motives of anger are chiefly three. First, to be too sensible of hurt, for no man is angry that feels not himself hurt; and therefore tender and delicate persons must needs be oft angry, they have so many things to trouble them which more robust natures have little sense of. The next is the apprehension and construction of the injury offered to be, in the circumstances thereof, full of contempt; for contempt is that which putteth an edge upon anger, as much or more than the hurt itself. And therefore, when men are ingenious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they do kindle their anger much. Lastly, opinion of the touch of a man's reputation doth multiply and sharpen anger. Wherein the remedy is, that a man should have, as Consalvo〔4〕was wont to say, telam honoris crassiorem [a thicker web of honour]. But in all refrainings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time, and to make a man's self believe that the opportunity of his revenge is not yet come, but that he foresees a time for it; and so to still himself in the meantime and reserve it.

To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man, there be two things whereof you must have special caution. The one, of extreme bitterness of words, especially if they be aculeate and proper; for communia maledicta [general revilings] are nothing so much; and again, that in anger a man reveal no secrets, for that makes him not fit for society. The other, that you do not peremptorily break off in any business in a fit of anger; but howsoever you show bitterness, do not act anything that is not revocable.

For raising and appeasing anger in another: it is done chiefly by choosing of times, when men are frowardest and worst disposed, to incense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that you can find out to aggravate the contempt. And the two remedies are by the contraries. The former, to take good times, when first to relate to a man an angry business, for the first impression is much. And the other is to sever, as much as may be, the construction of the injury from the point of contempt, imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, passion, or what you will.

注释

〔1〕　On Anger, Ⅰ.1.2.

〔2〕　See Luke 21.19.

〔3〕　Virgil, Georgics, Ⅳ.238.

〔4〕　Gonzalo, Hernandez de Cordova, Spanish general, d. 1515.

目　录

中文目录

英文目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

社会契约论

(英汉双语)

［法］让-雅克·卢梭　著
莫里斯·克兰斯敦　英译　　高黎平　汉译

中国出版集团
中国对外翻译出版公司

中文目录

第一卷

第二卷

第三卷

第四卷

返回总目录

第一卷

我写本文的意图是想思考，从人的现实情况与法律的可能情况来看，是否在政治社会中会存在什么合法又明确的政权法则。为探究这一目的，我必须始终努力将权利容许什么与利益规定什么结合起来，以便使公正性与实用性毫无分歧。

我一开始并不试图证明主题的重要性。或许人们会问，我是一位君主还是一名草拟政纲的立法者。我要回答：都不是。实际上，这正是我要讨论政治的理由。我若是一位君主或是一名立法者，就不应该在谈论本该做什么的问题上浪费时间，而应该当好我的君主或立法者，否则就保持沉默。

既然我生来是一个自由国家的公民，是主权国家的一员，无论我的呼声对公共事务的影响多么微弱，我拥有的选举权赋予我研究公共事务的责任。无论何时，细想到各种政权，我就会很高兴地发现，我的研究总能给予我新奇的理由，以此来赞美我自己国家的政权。

第一章　第一卷的主题

人生来是自由的，却无处不受枷锁的束缚。那些自认为可以主宰他人的人，实际上更成为他人的奴隶。这种从主人到奴隶的角色转换是如何发生的呢？我不得而知。我们又如何能够使这种转换合法化呢？我相信这个问题我能够解答。

如果我只是考虑强权以及强权的种种后果，我会说：“只要一个人被迫顺从他人，并且顺从了，那么这个人做得对；但是，一旦他能够挣脱枷锁，并且挣脱了，那么他做得更对；既然一个人以与被剥夺自由一样的权利重新获得自由，那么他恢复自由的理由就是正当的，而剥夺其自由的理由就是不正当的。”然而，社会秩序是一种神圣的权利，为其他所有权利提供了基础。同时，由于它不是一种自然而然的权利，它必然建立在各种契约的基础之上。问题是要确定那些契约都是什么。可是，在切入这个问题之前，我必须对迄今为止我所谈的东西加以证实。

第二章　论原始社会

在所有社会中，最古老的、唯一自然的社会是家庭；然而，只要孩子们为了自身的生存需要父亲时，他们就仍然本能地倚赖于父亲。一没有了这种需要，父子关系就此了结。一旦孩子从对父亲的顺从中解脱出来，一旦父亲从对孩子的负担中解脱出来，双方都一样重新获得独立。假如他们继续保持父子关系解除的状态，那么，这种情况就不再是一种自然的状态，而是他们自己的选择，这种选择解除了父子关系；而家庭本身只是依照契约得以维持。

这种共有的自由是人性的一种产物。人类的首要法则是维护自身的生存；人的首要关怀是对自己应有的关怀。而人一旦到了具有推理能力的年龄，可以自行判断保存自我的最佳手段，也就成了自己的主人。

因此，家庭或许可以视为政治社会的第一个模式：国家领袖是父亲的影子，人民就是孩子的影子，而所有生来自由平等的人，只有当他们在放弃自己的自由中看到好处时，才会放弃其自由。唯一不同的是，在家庭中，父亲对孩子的爱从他给予他们的关心中得到回报，而在一个统治者对其臣民没有如此感情的国家里，统治者对发号施令的乐趣必然取代其对臣子臣民的爱。

格老秀斯否认，一切人类政府都是为了被统治者的利益而建立的，并且引用了奴隶制的例子。他别具一格的推理方法总是提供事实以作为对权利的佐证。【1】要想象出一个更合乎逻辑而非更有利于专制君主的方法，这是有可能的。

因而，按格老秀斯的说法，是人类属于一百个人，还是这一百个人附属于人类，这是难以预测的，尽管在整本书中他似乎更倾向于这个观点的前半句，霍布斯也持这一观点。这些作者向我们表明，人类就像被分成各种类别的牛群，每一支牛群都有一个首领，首领保护牛群只是想吃掉它们。

正如牧羊人的品性优于羊群的品性一样，那些人类的牧羊人——他们的统治者——的品性也优于公民的品性。大概是菲罗告诉过我们，卡里古拉皇帝曾十分合情合理地做过同样的类推，并得出这样的结论：国王都是神明，或者说，公民都是畜牲。

卡里古拉的推理与霍布斯以及格老秀斯的推理相吻合。的确，亚里斯多德在他们之前就曾说过，既然一些人生来是奴隶，而一些人生来是主人，那么，人实际上根本不是生而平等。

亚里斯多德是对的，可他把结果误认为原因。任何在奴隶制下出生的人都是为奴隶制而生——这话说得再贴切不过了。受约束的奴隶失去了一切，甚至也失去了对自由的渴望。他们热衷于奴役，甚至就像尤利西斯的伙伴们热衷于禽兽一般的生活。【2】但是，如果说有天生的奴隶，那只是因为有违背天性的奴隶制。强权造就了第一批奴隶；而他们的懦弱又使得奴隶制永世长存。

我不曾谈论过亚当国王或诺亚皇帝，他们是瓜分世界的三大君主之父，尽管有人以为在他们身上也能看出像萨士林儿子那样的行为。一些作者认为，诺亚的事与农神的事如出一辙。我希望读者会对这种谦逊的态度心存感激，因为既然我是那些或许排行老大的君主之一的直系，我怎会知道：假设那些行为受到制止的话，我可能不会发觉自己是人类合法的国王呢？不管情形会怎样，也不能否认亚当是人类的鼻祖，就像鲁滨逊是荒岛的主人一样——正因为他是岛上唯一的居民；而这样一个帝国的巨大优势在于，君主建议安享王位宝座，没有必要担心叛乱、战争和阴谋篡权。

第三章　论最强者的权利

最强者决非强大到足以自始至终做主人，除非他能将势力转化为权利，将顺从转化为义务。因此，“最强者的权利”——听起来像是那么一回事的“权利”有种讽刺的意味，实际上已作为一种原理确定下来。但是，我们不需要让人解释一下这句短语吗？强力不过是一种物理力量；我不明白，强权的影响能够产生什么样的道德。屈服于强权是一种必要的行为，而不是一种意志的行为；它充其量只是一种谨慎的行为。在何种意义上它才算是一种道德义务呢？

我们不妨假设，这种所谓的权利是存在的。我认为，这种权利只能产生一套使人迷惑的胡言乱语，因为一旦强力变成权利，因果关系便会倒置，而每一种强力都能征服另一种强力，那么前者继承了属于被征服者的权利。要是人们不服从又不会受到惩罚，其不服从的行为就变得合法了；既然最强者始终是对的，那么唯一的问题就是如何成为最强者。可是，一种权利会毁灭其所依附的强力，这种权利的效力会是什么样的呢？假设强力驱使人们服从，那就没有必要请求服从的义务，而假设强力不驱使人们服从，那就再也不存在任何的义务。因而，“权利”一词在所述中并没有牵强附会什么的意思；它在此毫无意义。

“服从那些掌握权力的人。”如果这意味着“屈服于强力”的话，这条箴言是合理的，可它却是多余的；我想它决不会遭到违反。我承认一切权力都来自神；可每种疾病也是神的旨意，却没人阻止我们请医生看病。如果我在森林边上被一个强盗抢劫的话，强盗的勒索迫使我交出钱包。可假如我能以某种方式设法保住钱包而不让强盗抢走，那我从良心上依然得被迫交出钱包吗？毕竟，强盗手中的手枪无疑代表着一种权力。

那么，确实必须承认的是，强力并不构成权利，而人们对合法的权力才有服从的义务。因而，我们常常回到我初始的问题上。

第四章　论奴隶制

既然没人对自己的伙伴行使什么自然的权力，既然强力独自不赋予人们什么权利，人们当中的一切合法权力必然要建立在契约的基础上。

格老秀斯说过：“如果一个个体能转让其自由而成为主人手下的奴隶，那么一整个民族不能转让其自由而成为国王的随从吗？”在这一评论中，有若干模棱两可的词需要加以解释；可就让我们自己的目光限制在“转让”这个问题上吧。转让是给予或出卖的意思。一个成为别人奴隶的人并没有给予自己什么，他出卖自己至少是为了个人的生存。那么，整个民族出卖自己又为了得到什么呢？国王决不想供养其臣民，却想让他们供养自己；按照拉伯雷的说法，要供养国王付出的不是一星半点。那么，臣民就应该为君主而献身，同时以国王接受其财产为条件吗？假设是这样，我就无法明白他们还有什么可保存的东西了。

人们会听说，一个暴君向他的臣民保证国内安宁。这很好，可如果那一场场抗击由暴君野心引发其他权力的战争、暴君贪得无厌的贪婪、暴君治理上令人无法忍受的要求，所造成的这些凄凉景象比国内的冲突来得多，它给臣民们带来什么好处呢？如果国内安宁的真正情形只成为一种艰难困苦，他们又得到什么呢？在地牢中会有安宁，可是那样的安宁足以使地牢合乎人们的要求吗？希腊人虽在独眼巨人的魔窟里和睦相处，可他们正等待着被吃掉。

说一个人只讲奉献而不求任何回报，这是荒唐可笑、不可思议的；如果只因为如此行事的人都不理智的话，这样的行为总是不合情理的、空虚的。说到整个民族有过同样的行为，就等于幻想出一个疯癫之国，而权利却不可能以疯癫为基础。

纵然每一个个体能够转让自己，他也无法转让其孩子，因为他们生来是人，是自由的；他们的自由属于他们；除了他们自己，没人有权剥夺他们的自由。在他们到了具有判断力的年龄之前，他们的父亲可以以他们的名义，为了保护他们及其幸福而制定某些规则，可是他不能彻底无条件地出卖他们的自由，因为这种天赋权利总是与自然目标相矛盾的，是父权的滥用。因此，唯有在每一新生代能够接受或拒绝的情况下，专断的政府才是合法的，并且在这种情况下这样的政府才不会专断。

放弃自由等于放弃一个人的人性、作为一个人的种种权利，同样也放弃一个人的种种义务。对于放弃一切的人是无法给予补偿的；实际上，这种放弃是违背真正的人性，因为如果你剥夺了意志的一切自由，你就使一个人的行为失去一切道德上的意义。最终，任何规定一方绝对权威、规定另一方绝对服从的契约，都是不合逻辑的、毫无价值的。有权请求一切的人并不承担任何义务，这不是很明白的吗？既无互惠又无相互义务的唯一事实岂不是使行为无效？我的奴隶有什么权利来反对我？假设他所拥有的一切都属于我，他的权利就是我的权利，那么，说我拥有反对自己的权利，这简直就是一派胡言。

格老秀斯和其他人声称，在战争中发现另一种为奴隶制的所谓权利辩解的正当理由。他们主张，胜利者拥有杀死失败者的权利，这意味着失败者拥有以其自由的代价购买其生命的权利——讨价还价被认为更加合理，因为这对双方都是有利的。

可是，这种所谓的杀死失败者的权利显然是无法从战争状态取得。惟独由于这一原因，生活在其原始独立条件下的人缺乏足够定期的交流，其结果不是和平状态就是战争状态；因而人们并非自然成为仇敌。正是对事情的冲突而不是人们之间的争论，才引发战争，而形成战争状态并不出自纯粹的个人关系，而只是出自所有权关系。一个人与另一个人之间的私人战争，既不存在于一个没有固定财产的自然状态，也不存在于一个一切都置于法律权威下的社会。

个人之间的斗殴、决斗和小冲突无法构建任何一种状态；至于法兰西国王路易九世的法令所容许的那些私人战争，以及上帝的和平所中止的那些战争，都不过是封建政权的滥用——如果曾有过这样一种体制的话，这是一种不合理的体制，它不但与自然的正义相矛盾，而且也与一切健全的政权制度相矛盾。

那么，战争不是人与人之间的关系，而是国与国之间的关系；在战争中，每个个体并不以人的身份，甚至也不以公民的身份，【3】而只以士兵的身份参战，他们完全偶然地成为敌人，因为他们这时并不作为国家的成员，而只作为国家的保卫者。总而言之，一国只能把另一国而非国人当作敌人，因为在具有不同内在性质的东西之间不存在真正的关系。

这一原则既符合一切时代所制定的法则，也符合每个政治社会恒定的惯例。宣战与其说是对臣民发出警告，倒不如说是对政权发出警告。假如外国人——不论他是一位君主、一个个体，还是一整个民族——抢劫、杀人或扣押另一个君主的臣民，但没有首先向该君主宣战的话，他就不是敌人，而是强盗。即使在战争当中，要是一个正义的君主掠夺了敌人领土上所能掠夺的公众财产，他仍然要尊重臣民及其个人的财产，也要尊重自己的权利所依据的原则。既然战争的目标是征服敌对国，当士兵全副武装时，他们就有权杀死敌对国的守军；一旦放下武器向对方投降，他们就既不是敌对国的敌人，也不是敌对国的工具；他们只是再一次成为普通人，而敌对国再也无权夺去他们的生命。有时可能不杀死一兵一卒也可摧毁一个国家。战争并不赋予我们进一步打击战败国的权利，而只是为了取得必要的胜利。这些原则既不是格老秀斯的发明创造，也不是诗人笔下的凭空杜撰；它们源自事物的本性，建立在理性的基础之上。

征服权除了有最强者的法则之外，就没有什么作为基础。假设战争并不赋予征服者屠杀被征服者的任何权利，那么他就没有这样的权利可以证明奴役是正当的。只有当无法奴役敌人时，人们才有权杀死他们的敌人，这样，奴役权就不可能出自杀害权。让被征服者以其自由换取胜利者不法索取的生命，因而这是一场不公正的交易。将生死权建立在奴役权基础上、将奴役权建立在生死权基础上的争论，是一场恶性循环的争论。

即使我们以为这种可怕的屠杀权应该存在，那么战争的奴役，或被征服的民族不再有义务服从主人，而是被迫服从主人。胜利者夺取受害者生命的等价物后，对受害者就不表示什么恩惠；胜利者是以剥削受害者的方式，而不是以无益的方式消灭受害者。因此，胜利者与失败者之间的战争在继续，除以武力在失败者身上获得权力之外，胜利者决不能获取更多的权力；胜利者与失败者的相互关系是战争的结果，而战争权的继续意味着已经不存在和平条约。协议确实已经制定了，可那种协议完全终止不了战争，而是预示着战争的继续。

因而，不管我们怎样看待这一问题，奴隶制“权利”还是被视为空虚的；之所以空虚，不仅是因为其无法证实，而且也是因为其荒谬、无任何意义。“奴隶制”与“权利”这两个词相互矛盾，相互抵销。不论是在一人与另一人之间，还是在一人与整个民族之间，说：“我特此与你签定契约，该契约完全由你付出代价而完全有利于我；只要我满意，我就遵守契约，而只要我想要，你必须遵守契约。”这样的话岂不荒唐可笑。

第五章　论我们总该追溯到原始契约

即使我要承认迄今为止我反驳过的一切，可专制的斗士总不会有什么好结果。征服一大批人与统治一个社会之间将始终存在天壤之别。如果一个人接二连三地奴役许多单一的个体，不管数目有多大，他与他们之间除了存在主人与奴隶的关系之外，决不存在任何其他的关系，根本也不存在民族与统治者之间的关系；或许就存在一个集合体的关系，但肯定不是一个联合体的关系，因为他们既没有共同的利益，也不属于同一个政体。即使这样的一个人奴役了全球一半人，他仍然是只是一个个体，而他那总与他人截然不同的利益，只不过是个人利益而已。当他死去时，他所留下的帝国会因联盟之间缺乏任何联系而分崩离析，甚至就像一棵橡树毁于大火时被燃得精光化为一堆灰烬一样。

格老秀斯说过：“一个民族可以将自身交给国王。”因此，依格老秀斯的说法，在将自己奉献给国王之前，一个民族就是一个民族。这种奉献本身就是一种公民行为；它预示着公众的深思熟虑。因此，在考虑一个民族服从国王的行为之前，我们应该仔细审视一下民族之所以成为一个民族的行为，因为那种必然先行于其他民族的行为，才是社会的真正基础。

实际上，如果不存在更早的协议的话，除非选举是一致通过，不然，怎么会存在少数服从多数的义务呢？要一个主人的一百人有什么权利代表不要一个主人的十人投票呢？多数投票法本身以协议为依据，它意味着至少有一次存在全体一致。

第六章　论社会公约

我以为，人们应该到达一个自然状态中对人的生存形成种种障碍的顶点，这些障碍已证明，它们比每个人在那种状态下必须保存自己所需要的力量还要大。此外，原有的状态无法持久，因为如果该状态不改变其存在模式的话，那时人类必将消亡。

既然人们无法形成新的势力，那只好将那些早己存在的势力联合起来，并加以控制，他们能够保存自己的唯一方法是，在一个强大到足以克服任何抵抗的集体中联合起个体的力量，以使它们的力量朝着一个目标一致行动。

各种势力的联合只有依靠个体联合才能产生，但是，因为每个人自身的力量和自由又是其生存的主要手段，要是他自己不去冒险，而注重关照自己，他又怎么能融合他人的力量呢？根据我现有的主题，这一难题可以用以下这句话来表达：

“如何找到一种以一切集体力量保护个人及其利益的联合方式，以这种方式，每个个体在与他人联合时，除听从自己外，无需服从他人，依旧像以前那样自由自在。”这是社会契约所要解决的根本问题。

该契约的条款按行为的性质规定得如此严密，以致于哪怕微小的修改都可能使其变得空洞无效；它们就是这样确定的，虽然可能从未在形式上加以说明，但是它们无论在哪里都是相同的，无论在哪里都被默许认可的；如果违反了这一社会公约，每个人需要重新获得其原有权利，而在恢复其自然自由时，他们又会失去其用自然自由换来的公民自由。

这些关于联合的条款，在正确理解之后，可以简化为一句话，即通过每个人自身联合以及他对整个集体的一切权利的全盘转让。因而，首先，由于每一个个体完全交出自己，对大众来说条件都是一样的，正因为对于每个人的条件都相同，所以在没有个人利益的情况下，就不会使这种条件成为别人的负担。

其次，既然这种转让是无条件的，联合会尽可能完美无缺，个体联合体就不会有什么要求了；因为假设各种权利留给了个体，在个体与公众之间缺乏更高的裁判权威下，每一个个体从某种意义上说可以自行做出判断，因而很快就会要求在一切事务中自行做出判断；这样一来，自然状态就会继续下去，而联合体不可避免地变成暴政或是空话。

最后，既然每个人都把自己交给了大众，就等于没把自己交给任何人；既然不存在个人得不到跟别人在他身上得到的相同权利的联合，他就重新获取其所失去的每样东西的等价物，并且在讨价还价之中，获取更多的权力以保存其所拥有的东西。

那么，如果从社会公约中删除一切对其并不十分重要的东西，我们就会发觉，公约将变成这样：“我们每个人在公意的最高指示下，将其个体及其一切力量都投入到集体中，并且作为一个主体，与作为集体中的个体部分的每个成员相结合。”

紧接着，这种联合行为产生一个人为的共同体，以代替每个契约方的个人，该共同体由众多像与会的选举人那样的成员组成；通过这样的相同行为，共同体获得其团结且普遍的自我、生活和愿望。因而，由所有其他人联合产生的公共人格过去被称为城市，【4】而现在被认为是共和国或政体。在起被动作用时，它被称为国家；当起积极作用时，它就是主权者；和自己同类的其他人相比，它就是一个大国。其中与此联系的这些人共同取名为一个民族，还可单独称他们为公民，因为他们在主权者权力中分享权力；也可称他们为臣民，因为他们使自己处于国家法律制度的管辖之下。不过，这些词汇常常混淆不清，每个词都可能被误解为另一个词；可重要的是，在以确切的含义使用这些词时，要知道如何辨别它们。

第七章　论主权者

这一法则表明，联合行动包括社会与个体之间的相互约束，其结果是，在似乎与自己制定的契约中，每个人都会发现自己承担双重义务，第一，与个体相比，作为主权者主体的一员；第二，与主权者相比，作为一个国家公民。这里，不可能存在诉诸民法的原则问题，民法上写道：每个人并不受与自己签订的契约的约束，因为在对自己尽义务和对一个人成为国家一员所涉及的某事尽义务之间，存在着巨大的差别。

我必须补充说明的是，一次公众决策可能把一项义务强加给接近主权者的臣民，由于两方面的原因每个人都能被理解，而相反的是，如此的决策并不可能把一项义务强加给接近自己的主权者；由此，这必然违背了为主权者服务的政体的真正本性，因为主权者为自身制定其不能违反的法律。只有以唯一相同的关系来考虑时，主权者才处在与自己签约的个人地位，这表明，既不存在也不可能存在任何把各民族捆绑起来作为一个主体的基本法，甚至社会契约本身也不可能做到这一点。这并不意味着，只要那些义务不违反该契约，整个主体就无法承担起对其他国民负责的义务，因为与外国势力相比，该政体只是一个简单的实体、个体而已。

不过，既然政体或主权者将其存在只归于契约的尊严，那么甚至在与外国势力制定的条约中，它也不能让自己承担任何解除联合体初始行为的义务，例如，它无法将自己的一部分转让或呈送给另一个主权者。违背自己赖以生存的法令，必将自我毁灭；巧妇难为无米之炊啊。

因而，民众一联合起来成为一个集体，要是不进攻这个集体，就没有人能够伤害到集体成员中的任何人；要不是每个成员都触及到它，仍然不太可能伤害到整体。因而，义务与自我利益同样强制契约双方互相援助；而同样的这些人应试图在这双重的关系中，将与此相关连的一切利益结合起来。

现在，由于主权者完全由构成主权者的个体组成，所以主权者没有也不能有任何对立于个体利益的利益；于是，主权者没有必要向臣民做种种保证，因为一个主体希望伤害其所有的成员，这是不可能的，而就我们所知，主体不能伤害任何特定的成员。按照眼前仅有的事实，主权者总是做其应该做的一切。

但是，这并非臣民与主权者之间关系的真实写照。不管他们的共同利益如何，臣民都不愿意受其所负责任的约束，除非他们找到保证其忠诚的方法。

因为作为人的每个个体，都可能有个人意志，而这一意志对立或有别于他作为公民所具有的公意。他的个人利益可以大声呼吁，其呼声大大有别于公众利益的呼声；他绝对自然独立的生命，可能使他将其所要归于公共事业的东西，既被认为是无偿奉献，也被认为是损失，不过这种损失比起他的沉重付出不那么令人痛苦；试想一下，那个创建国家的非自然人只是一个虚构的实体（既然他不是一个人），他可能试图享受各种权利，而又不想对臣民尽什么义务。这种不公正的滋生倾向势必引发政体的毁灭。

由此，为了社会公约不至于成为一个空洞的法则，社会公约就要在责任中默示——这种责任只能给予所有其他人以强力——任何拒绝服从公意的人都将由整个主体迫使其这样做，这除了必须迫使其获得自由之外，没有任何其他意思，因为这是在让每个公民献身国家时，保证他免于一切人生依附的必要条件，正是这一条件，才使政治机器设计成型，并使其正常运转，而政治机器本身将正义赋予公民契约——没有这一条件，如此的契约肯定是荒唐可笑、专制残暴、易于严重滥用的。

第八章　论公民社会

在自然状态到公民社会的发展历程中，人类发生了惊人的变化；公民社会将作为行为准则的正义置于本能的位置，赋予其行为以其前所未有的道德品质。只有到那时，当义务的呼声已经取代了生理的冲动，权利取代了欲望，至今只想到自己的人才会发现自己被迫根据他人准则去行事，去求教自己的理智，而不去研究自我倾向。在公民社会中，虽然一个人转让一些属于自然状态的利益，可是他却能获得更大利益作为回报；他的才能得到锻炼和发展，其思想得到扩展，其情操变得高尚，其整体精神得到提升，其结果是，如果在多种情况下滥用新的条件，不会将自己降低到比其所剩余的更糟糕的地步，他应该经常祈佑幸福的时光，这幸福的时光已使其升华，使其从自然状态中走出来，也使其从一头愚笨的、受限制的畜牲变成了有智力的动物，乃至变成了一个人。

假定我们起草一份资产负债表，以便可以很容易地比较赢亏。一个人在社会契约中所亏损的东西，对任何诱导他及其可获取的东西来说，是自然自由与绝对权利；他在社会契约中赢得的东西，是公民的自由及其所有物的财产权。如果想避免犯厚此薄彼的错误，我们必须清楚区分不受限却有相关个体物质力量的自然自由，以及受限于公意的公民自由；我们还必须区分仅建立在强力或“最先占有权”基础上的财产权，以及必须倚赖法定所有权的财产权。

我还得补充一点，一个与公民社会往来的人，应该获得道德自由，唯有道德自由才能使其成为自己的主人，因为奴隶制只是受肉欲支配，而服从为自己制定的法律才是自由。然而，就这一主题我已经说过好多次，而“自由”一词的哲学含义并不是本主题所要论述的一部分。

第九章　论财产权

集体的每个成员，在集体存在的瞬间就将当时情况下存在的自我——他自己及其所有资产，包括一切动产——交给了这个集体。这并不是说，这样一来，享有权在转手过程中改变其性质，变成主权者掌握的财产权；更准确地说，由于国家的资产比个体的那些资产大得无以言状，所以个人财产虽然不再合理合法——可不管怎样，在陌生人的眼里，公共财产其实比个人财产更安全，也更不可变更，因为在面对国家的公民时，国家变成了他们全部动产的主人，这有赖于社会契约，这是由于社会契约在国家内部充当所有其他权利的基础；当面对其他国家时，本国只有源自个体的“最先占有权”。

“最先占有权”尽管比“最强者的权利”更为真实，可是直到创立财产权才变成一种真正的权利。每个人对自己所需要的东西都拥有自然权利；但是，使一个人变成任何财产的所有人的积极行为，却把他排除在别的一切事物之外。他的份额一旦得到之后，他必然将自己局限于那一份财产，也就更没有权利违背集体了。因而，我们明白，在自然状态下事实上脆弱的“最先占有权”，在政治社会中却强迫大众去尊重它。这种权利让人们意识到，属于别人的东西并不比属于他自己的东西来得少。

作为一条普遍的法则，为了证明对任何一块土地的最先占有权是正当的，我们必须满足下列条件：第一，土地必须尚未被任何其他人占有；第二，所有权者仅仅拥有他为生存所需要的土地；第三，他不是通过游手好闲的方式，而是通过实实在在耕地的方式取得享有权——这是在缺乏法定所有权时需要别人尊重的所有权的唯一标志。

的确可以说，试图把“最先占有权”变成人们的需要，并能操作得起来，这使其内涵得到最大限度地延伸。一个人真的能够避免给权利设定限制条件吗？一个人两脚踏上一片共用的土地，便马上声称这块土地归自己所有，这就足够了吗？以强力不让别人接近一会儿，以便剥夺他人永久的回归权，这就足够了吗？一个人或一个民族又怎么能够掠夺广袤的土地，拒其他民族于门外，除非是罪犯的霸占——由于这种行为劫掠了其余人的住所以及自然给予他们公有的一切，那就足够了吗？当努涅斯德巴尔波站在海岸上，以卡斯提王权的名义占有了南美洲的南部海洋，那就足以剥夺一切居住者，把世上所有别的君主排除在外吗？假如是这样的话，如此懒惰的方式必定没有好下场；天主教皇要是没离开皇室，可能会拥有全世界，除非后来帝国所在地区已属于别的君主。

我们会明白，私人土地被统一连片时，是怎样变成公共土地的；我们也会明白，主权者权利从臣民扩大到他们所占有的土地时，是怎样既涵盖财产权又涉及到人的；这使那些土地所有者都变得更加依赖别人，然后把自己的实力变成了忠于他人的保证。这种好处似乎已回避了古代的君主，因为他们自称波斯王或斯基泰人或马其顿人时，好像认为自己宁可是人们的统治者，而不是国家的主人。当今的君主更精明地自称法国国王，或西班牙国王，或英国国王等等；因而在拥有国土时，他们必定要控制居民。

社会契约所限定转让的唯一东西是，在接受个体的动产中，集体决不剥夺个体的财产；相反，集体只是保证个体对财产的合法享有权；这就将侵占变成了有效的权利与纯粹对合法所有权的享有。既然每个所有者都被认为是公共财产的托管人，其权利就必须得到国家每个其他公民的尊重，并且受到集体力量的保护以抵御异乡人的侵犯；在对公众有利并对他们更有利的让与以前，人们就已经获取了一切，可以说是他们已放弃的一切——这一似是而非的论点，很容易通过区分主权者所拥有的权利和所有者对这一财产所拥有的权利加以解释，这一点可从下文了解。

还可能发生这样的事，人们在拥有无论什么东西之前就开始联合起来，在扩大土地并使其大到足以分给其所有者之后，他们开始共享土地，或者在他们中间交替地分配土地，不是平等分配就是由主权者决定按份额分配。不管所得物以什么方式安排，任何个体对自己财产的所有权都必须从属于集体对一切财产的所有权，因为要是没有了这一权利，就失去社会契约的约束力，也失去主权者运用的有效力量。

我将以一种可作为整个社会制度基础的观点结束本章——第一卷：换句话说，社会公约决不可能破坏平等，恰恰相反，它将用一种道德上的合法平等代替自然可能强加给人的任何物质上的不平等，其结果是，不管在人力和智力方面如何不平等，人们依靠契约和权利都会变得平等。【5】

注　释

【1】“对公法的学术研究往往只是古人滥用权力的历史；对其进行过细的研究，会使人误入歧途、平添烦恼。”见阿冉松侯爵的《论法国与其邻国关系的利益》。

【2】见普鲁塔克的一篇题为《动物应用理性》的短论文。

【3】古罗马人比世上任何民族都更了解也更尊重战争权；在这方面，他们非常顾忌，以致于在一个公民未正式表示反抗敌人，并特别指名反抗某个敌人之前，不许作为志愿军服役。当小卡图最先参加波比里乌斯领导的军队改编时，老卡图就写信给波比里乌斯说，如果他仍然要他的儿子继续在他手下服役的话，就应让他重新进行一次战争宣誓；其理由是他儿子的第一次宣誓已经无效；儿子不能再扛枪杀敌。卡图还写信给儿子，警告他没有再宣誓就别参战。

我知道，有人可能引用克鲁修姆之围和古罗马历史上的其他例子来反驳我，但我引用的是法律和惯例。没有哪个民族会比古罗马人更遵纪守法；也没有哪个民族会比古罗马人有如此完善的法律。

【4】当城镇与城市被认为是同一的东西，公民被认为跟市民一样时，这个名词的真正含义在近代几乎完全消失了。人们忘了，城镇是由房屋构成的，而只有市民才能构成城市。迦太基人曾为这一错误付出惨重的代价。我从未见过cives（公民）这个称号赋予任何君主统治下的臣民，即使对古代马其顿人或当今英国人也不行，尽管他们比其他民族都更接近自由。惟独法语以相似的意思来处理“公民”这个词，因为他们不知道这个词是什么意思，他们的不同词典已证明了这一点；如果真知道这词的含义，他们就要犯大逆不道的篡位罪了。事实上，他们用这个词表示社会地位，而不表示合法权利。当博丹要表达公民与市民时，他完全错误地张冠李戴。达朗贝先生没犯这个错误，并且在他的《日内瓦》一文里，正确区别我们城镇所发现的四个等级的人（或五个等级的人，如果算上异邦人的话），而其中两个等级的人组成共和国。就我所知，没有别的法国作家了解“公民”这个词的真正含义。

【5】在一个不良政府的统治下，这种平等只是一种表面现象，一种幻想；它只能使穷人继续处于悲惨的境地，维持富人处在富有的地位。事实上，法律总是有益于拥有财产的人，而对一无所有的人却是有害的；由此可见，只有当大家都拥有一些东西而又无人拥有过多的东西时，社会状态才会对人有益。

第二卷

第一章　论主权是不可转让的

迄今已建立的种种原则的首要也是最重大的意义在于，公意只能按照已创建的国家想获得共同利益的目标来指导国家的各种力量，因为如果个人利益之间的冲突已使必要的公民社会得以建立的话，那些相同利益之间的和谐就会使公民社会的建立变为可能。正是给那些不同利益带来的共同东西才产生这种社会联系；假如没有了与个体利益相一致的契合点，那么可以想象，社会就不可能存在。并且社会就是必须在这共同利益的基础上进行治理。

那么我的论点是，主权不外乎公意的运作，因而决不能转让；主权者只是一个集体存在，因而不能由任何其他人代表，而只能由本人代表——权力可以由他人代表，意志却不能由他人代表。

实际上，在这样那样的观点上个意不可能与公意相一致时，同时存在的事不可能是有规则的、持久的，因为个意本质上倾向于不公平性，而公意则倾向于公平性。甚至更不可思议的是，在个意与公意之间的和谐可以有保证，即使如此，这种保证还要一直继续下去，因为如此持久的和谐总是碰巧产生的，而不是有意导致的。主权者可能会说：“我现在想要的正是这个人想要的，或者至少是他说他想要的；”但是，没有一位主权者会说：“这个人明天想要的，也是我想要的，”因为一个人希望在未来受到束缚，这是荒谬可笑的，而且说一个人希望同意与其利益相悖的观点，这是自相矛盾的。如果一个民族只是惟命是从，那么这个民族会因为这样的承诺而解体；因为一旦有了一位主人，就不再有主权，原有政体因而消亡。

这并不是说，如果主权者有反对的自由却没有这么做，领袖的命令也不能算是公意。在这种情况下，人民的沉默可视为人民的同意。这一点将在下文详细阐述。

第二章　论主权是不可分割的

正如主权是不可转让的一样，同样的道理，主权也是不可分割的，因为意志要么是公意，【1】要么不是；主权不是民族主体的意志，就只是一部分人的意志。在前者中，主权宣布意志是主权国家与宪法法律的行为；而在后者中，主权宣布意志只是特定意志的表达，或者说是管理机构的行为，它充其量不过是一种规定。

然而，我们那些无法对主权原则分类的政治理论家们，将主权原则按其意图来分类；他们将主权原则分为权力与意志，即将其分为行政与立法，征税权、管理公正与发动战争，国内司法权以及对待外国政府的权力。我们的理论家们时而将这些东西混为一谈，时而将它们割裂开来。他们把主权者变成一只空想的动物、一件用破布缝制的拼缀物，更确切地说，仿佛他们想塑造若干不同躯体的人——其中一个人只有眼，一个人只有腿，而另一个人则只有脚。据说，日本的江湖郎中可以当着旁观者把一个小孩切开，将身体的不同部位抛向空中，然后让这个小孩落下来，结果每一部位都有生命。这或多或少是我们的政治理论家玩弄的戏法——总之，他们用一种只配在露天市场上耍弄的手法肢解社会主体之后，再将碎片拼凑在一起。

这一错误出自没有形成主权者权威的正确概念，也出自仅仅把权威的表现误认为权威本身的各个部分。例如，宣布战争与维护和平的行为都被认为是主权行为，它们实际上并不是主权行为，因为这些行为都不构成法律，而只是法律的应用、确定该法律如何加以解释的特定行为——我给附在“法律”这个词上的思想下完定义之后，这一切就显而易见了。

如果我们以同样的方式仔细考察关于主权其他假定的分类法，我们应该会发现，无论何时我们认为主权被分类，我们都搞错了，因为被认为是主权的那一部分权利，实际上现已被证实只是从属于主权，预示一种他们只想付诸实施的最高意志的存在。

当他们到了应用自己的原则来分别确定君主权利和民族权利时，这种需要精确的情况，已大大模糊了我们的法律理论家所下的那些结论。读过格老秀斯写的第一卷第三、四章的每个读者都会明白，那个有学问的人及其译者巴贝拉克是怎样陷入他们自己的诡辩论中，担心不是说得太多就是说得太少（根据他们的偏见），于是就违背了他们想要过份夸奖的种种利益。格老秀斯，一个在法兰西的流亡者，对自己的国家心怀不满，逃离本国，想追随路易十三，将自己的书献给路易十三，不遗余力地剥夺各民族的一切权利，并以一个个可以想象得出的阴谋诡计将那些权利赋予了君主。这肯定非常对巴贝拉克的味口，巴贝拉克将自己翻译格老秀斯的译著献给英国国王乔治一世。然而，不幸的是，驱逐詹姆斯二世——巴贝拉克称之为一次“放弃”——迫使他把话说得明显有所保留、犹豫不决、模棱两可，以便不去暗示威廉三世是一个篡夺者。如果这两个作家采用了正确的原则，他们的所有困难就都烟消云散，他们的论点也就合乎逻辑；但，可悲可叹的是，他们本该说出真理，并且只追随公民。这种真理不会给人们带来运气；而他们也不是分配大使职务、教授之职和抚恤金之人。

第三章　论公意是否会出错

由我所论证的论题可见，公意总是正义的，并且总是趋向于公共利益；但这并不表明，公民的讨论总是同样正确的。我们总想得到对我们有利的东西，可我们总是辨别不出对我们有利的东西。人民决不会腐败，可他们常常误入歧途；而只有在这时，人民似乎愿意要不好的东西。

众意（一切个体想要的东西）与公意之间常常存在极大的差异；公意只研究公共利益，而众意则研究个人利益——确实只不过是个体欲望的总和。但是，如果我们从这些相同的意志中去掉互相抵销的加减数，那么剩下的总数依然是公意。【2】

从对一个十分了解情况的民族仔细考察来看，假如其成员之间缺乏任何沟通，许许多多的小分歧往往会产生公意，所做出的决策总会是正确的。但是，如果以牺牲大集体为代价而形成小团体，则每个小团体的意志对自己的成员来说成了公意，而对国家来说却成了个意；那么，我们可能会说，不但再也没有像现有的人一样多的投票权，而且再也没有像现有的组群一样多的投票权。种种差异变得为数甚少，结果是产生更少的公意。最终，当其中一个小团体变得很大，大到能够超过其余的小团体，其结果不再是许多小分歧的总和，而是一个大的分歧；到那时，就不存在公意，而那占上风的意见不过是个意而已。

因而，假如公意能够清楚地表达的话，国家中应该不存在各种派系，而每个公民应该为自己做决定，这是绝对必要的【3】——这原来是独一无二的，也是伟大的利库尔戈斯卓尔不凡的发明。可如果存在着各种派系，那就成倍增加它们的数量，并像梭伦、努玛和塞尔维所做的那样，防止它们中出现不平等，这是一个明智之举。这些是能确保公意始终得到启迪、人们不会犯错的唯一预防措施。

第四章　论主权者权力的限度

如果一个国家或一个民族，除非是一个非自然人——由成员联盟构成的生命——否则就一无是处，如果它最担忧的东西是其生存，那它就需要具有一致的强制力，以便以对整体有利的任何方式推动并应对每一地区。正如大自然给予每个人以运动自己四肢的绝对力量一样，社会公约赋予政体以管理其所有成员的绝对权力；正是这相同的权力，在公意的指引下，才有了像我所说过那样的主权名称。

然而，我们不得不考虑在公众之旁那些构成公众的个人，个人的生命和自由自然独立于公众之外。由此，我们必须清楚地区分公民与主权者各自的权利，【4】而且还必须将公民作为臣民所应尽的那些义务与他们作为人所应享受的自然权利区别开来。

我们已经承认，每个人可按社会公约转让其与集体有关的权力、动产和自由的那部分；可还必须承认的是，惟独主权者才能够判断是否具有上述关系。

不论公民能够为国家做出什么样的贡献，只要主权者需求其服务，他就要心存感激；而主权者不能将对集体不必要的任何负担强加给臣民；的确，主权者甚至不能将意志这样的东西强加给臣民，这与其说是依照凡事必有因的自然法则，倒不如说是依照推理的法则。

将我们约束于社会团体的种种义务是强制性的，只是因为它们是相互的；鉴于其性质如此，一个人在尽义务的过程中，要是不能同时为自己工作，就无法为其他人工作。公意总是正当合法的，所有人常常希望获得各自的幸福，只是大众将“各自”一词用在自己身上，在投票中都想着自己，这怎么可能呢？这表明，权利的平等以及平等所产生公正的概念得自每个人为自己所具有的偏好，因此也得自同样的人性。这还表明，公意要真正是什么东西的话，就必须既在其目的又在其性质上都是普遍的；公意应该从公众为了公意延伸到公意适用于公众；当对准任何特别限定的目标时，公意就会失去其自然的公正——因为在判断什么对我们来说是外来的时，我们没有健全的公正原则来引导我们。

实际上，因为无论何时我们在处理一件特定的事，或恰巧处理一件按事先的公约尚未解决的事，事情就会变得有争议。这是一种个人利益和公共利益针锋相对的冲突；我既不明白需要遵循的法则，也不明白当一个仲裁者的裁判。这在如此有赖于公意迅速决策的争论中，显得荒唐可笑，因为决策只能是有利于争论一方的结论，而被另一方认为是不相同的、不公平的意志、一种在如此情况下易于不公正所以犯过失的意志。于是我们明白，甚至因为个意无法代表公意，所以如果公意试图处理个体情况的话，它也将改变其性质；就像公意一样，个意无法在所涉及的任何一个人或任何一件事中占主导地位。例如，雅典人在委派或辞退其领导人时，授荣誉予一个人，而惩罚另一个人，并且按照许多特别的规定，不加选择地行使行政的一切职能，那么，雅典人不再使明白无误的东西变成公意，不再像主权者那样做事，反而像行政官那样做事。所有这一切似乎与通常接受的观念并不一致；但是，人们必须给我时间来详细说明我自己的观点。

不过，从我迄今为止所说的来看，公意产生其公意性，与其说源自人们的选票数目，倒不如说源自人们结合在一起的共同利益——因为公意是一项制度，在这一制度下，每个人都必须服从他所施加给别人的相同条件；利益与正义这值得赞美的和谐一致给予社会讨论以公正的品质，这种品质在谈论任何个体的争论中立刻消失，正是因为在这后者的情况中，不存在用以结合并确定裁判判决的共同利益，而裁判的判决与争论方的决定却紧密相连。

无论以哪种方式看待这件事，我们始终都要回到同样的结论：即社会公约在公民中建立起平等，因为他们在同样的条件下都亲口发过誓，都必须享受相同的权利。因此，按照契约的性质，主权者的每一个行为，即公意的每一次真实的行动，同样约束或有利于所有公民，结果是主权者只认识到民族的整体，而不区分构成民族的任何成员之间的差异。那么，什么东西真正称得上是主权行为呢？它并不是高贵者与低贱者之间的一种契约，而是与其每个成员相连的主体的一种契约。它是一种合法的契约，因为它的基础是社会契约；它是一份公正的契约，因为它对公众而言是共用的；它是一份有益的契约，因为它除了有共同的利益之外没有终点；它也是一份持久的契约，因为它得到武力和最高权力的保证。只要臣民独自履行这样的契约，他们就不顺从任何人而顺从自己的意志；而要问主权者和公民的各自权利延伸多远，那就等于问这两类人共同履约的程度如何，也就是问每个人对于全体以及全体对于每个人履约的程度如何。

由此可见，很显然，主权者的权力事实上是完全绝对的、神圣不可侵犯的，它并不超越也不能超越公共契约的限制；因而，每个人能用像这些契约许可那样的动产和自由，来做他所心满意足的事；由此推断，主权者决无任何权利将负担厚此薄彼地强加给臣民，因为那样的事无论何时发生，事情都会变成是个人的事，并且是主权者力所不及的。

即使有这些差异，要断言个体该会按照社会契约做出什么真正的放弃，明显变得不真实；的确，由于这种契约，他们发觉自己处在一种说真心话比以前更为优越的处境中；为谋取利益，他们用了不确定且不稳定的生命来交换更美好更安全的生命，而不是进行转让；他们用了自然的独立交换自由，也交换为享有自己的安全却伤害他人的权力；他们用了其可被战胜的权力交换社会联盟使其不可战胜的权利。他们抵押给国家的真正生命始终受到国家的保护；甚至当他们冒着生命危险保卫国家时，除了归还他们从国家那儿接受的东西外，他们还在做什么呢？除了他们不再经常做事之外，在面临更大的危险时，在每个人不可避免地处在战争、冒生命危险保卫任何为维护生命而服务于自己的自然状态中，他们还在做什么呢？确实，所有人现在都必须在万一需要时为自己的国家而战斗，但是，至少每个人不再为自己而战斗。假设我们得不到保证的话，为了保证安全，也为了不冒一些我们每人都应独自面对的危险，逃跑可取吗？

第五章　论生死权

有人会问，绝对无权掌控自己生命的个体，怎么能将他们不曾拥有的权利转让给主权者。这个问题看起来似乎难以解答，只因为问题提得很糟糕。每个人都有权冒自己的生命危险以保存生命。这个问题看起来似乎难以回答，也只是因为问题提得很糟糕。每个人都有权为保存自己的性命去冒生命的危险。你听说过一个跳出窗口逃避火灾的人犯有自杀罪吗？一个人上船时知道有危险而死于暴风雨，能以此认定他自杀吗？

社会契约的目的是维护契约方的利益。不论是哪一方的意志，最终的意志还是一种手段，而某些危险甚至某些伤亡都是与这种手段分不开的。无论谁想要以别人的生命代价来保存自己的性命，就必须在必要时为别人献身。现在作为公民，个人不再自行判断法律要求他冒的是哪种危险。而当君主对他说：“你应该死，这对国家来说是有利的。”那么，他应该死，因为只有在这样的条件下，他才能安全生存得长久，还因为他的生命再也不是自然的赠物，而是他有条件地从国家那儿收下的一份礼物。

判处罪犯死刑可以用相同的方式来看待：正是由于受害者避免变成杀人犯，所以如果一个人本身成了杀人犯，他才同意去死。一个人只会想到保住性命，而决不会在社会契约中剥夺自己的生命权。我们绝不认为，任何契约方会打算上吊自尽。

此外，由于每个罪犯都会触犯社会法律，按其行为成了一个叛乱者和叛国者；他违反了国家法律，不再是国家的一员；的确，他制造战乱抗击国家。在这种情况下，国家存亡与其个人生存是不相容的；要么国亡，要么人死；而当这个罪人被处死时，他与其说是公民，倒不如说是敌人。审判和判决证明并且宣布他违反了社会契约，结果他再也不是这个国家的一员了。既然他接受了这样的成员资格，就其公民身份而言，不是将其作为社会公约的违犯者驱逐，就是将其作为众矢之敌处死；这样的敌人不是一个虚构的人，而是一个活生生的人，因此，战争权使杀人变得合法。

可有人会说，谴责一个罪犯是个体的行为。这我同意；接下来，这样的行为并不从属主权者；谴责罪犯是主权者可颁布却不可自行运用的一项权利。我的所有想法都融会在一起，但我无法马上对它们进行详细的描述。

在任何情况下，经常性的惩罚是政权软弱或涣散的标志。不存在一个坏到一无是处的人。人不该被处以死刑，即使是作为范例，也不该如此；如果他对社会不构成危险，就应该放他一条生路。

至于赦免权或免除罪犯在法律规定的由法官施加的刑罚权利，这只属于比法官和法律还要优越的那种实体，即主权者；可即使是的话，这种权利并非十分清晰，并且极少付诸于实施。在一个管理良好的国家，极少有人受处罚，这不是因为有许多的赦免，而是因为极少有罪犯；而在一个腐败的国家，众多的犯罪保证不受惩罚。在古罗马共和国的统治下，元老院和执政官绝对都不想赦免罪犯；古罗马人也是如此，尽管他们有时取消了自己的判决。经常性的赦免标志着犯罪将很快不需要赦免；而任何人都能明白那必然导致的结果。然而，我能感觉到我的心正在飒飒作响，并且正在阻止我下笔。让我们把对这些问题的讨论留给那些从不犯错因而无需赦免的公正的人吧！

第六章　论法律

我们已按社会公约赋予政体以生命和存在；而现在按立法赋予政体以运动和意志却成了问题，因为政体组织和联合体所依照的原始法案，并不决定其为保存自身所要做的事。

仅从事物和人类契约的真正本性来说，这样的东西在于什么是好的和什么是与秩序相一致的。一切的正义都来自唯一是其源泉的神；如果我们只知道如何从那高贵的喷泉接泉水的话，我们就既不需要政权也不需要法律。毋庸置疑，有一种普遍的正义源自唯一的原因，但那种正义得承认它必须是互惠的。从人性上说，自然正义的法律，在缺乏任何自然认可的情况下，在人们当中是无效的。其实，这样的法律只是有益于恶劣的人，却伤害了正直的人，因为正义的人尊重法律，而其他人却不以尊重法律作为回报。于是，就必须有契约和明确的法律，以此用义务来统一权利，并将正义引向其目标。在一切事物都处于公共的自然状态下，我并没有什么亏欠那些我未曾许诺过的人，并且我认识到，对我没用的那些东西只属于别人。但是，在一切权利依法而定的公民社会中，这不再是那种情况了。

然而，什么是最新分析中的法律呢？假设我们根据形而上学的观点简单地给法律下定义的话，我们就会继续谈论下去，却达不到任何理解的目的；在我们说什么是自然法则时，我们还不知道什么是自然法则。

我已说过，公意不可能涉及任何特定的目标，因为这样的特定目标不是在内部，就是在外部。如果它是在外部，那么，一种与其相异的意志对其而言就不是公共的：假如这个目标是在内部，那么它将构成自然的一部分。因而，在整体与涉及两个分离实体的部分之间就会形成一种关系，一个是部分，而另一个是特定部分的较小整体。可是，比一个特定部分更小的整体不再是一个整体；于是，只要这种关系存在的话，就没有整体而只有两个不平等的部分，从这两部分接下来，一部分人的意志对另一部分人来说再也不是普遍的。

但是，当作为整体的民族为自己制定规则时，它只涉及其本身；而如果有什么关系出现的话，这种关系就是介于从一种观点看是整体以及从另一种观点看同样是整体之间，绝对没有任何区别。在此，涉及制定一项规则的问题就像制定规则的意志一样普遍。这就是那种我称之为法律的行为。

当我说法律范围总是普遍的时候，我的意思是，法律集中考虑所有臣民以及所有抽象行为；可它并不考虑任何个人或任何特定的行为。因而，法律可能清楚地规定应该存在有特权，但不可能提名将拥有那些特权的人作为候选人；法律可能确立若干等级的公民，甚至确定能给那若干等级带来进入权的条件，但不可能表明要接纳这样那样的人；法律可能创建一个王室政权，并安排一个世袭继承人，但不可能选举一个君主或选择一个王室家庭——总之，涉及到个体的功能并不在立法权的范畴之列。

经过这样的分析，立刻就很清楚，我们再也不会问谁来制定法律了，因为法律是公意行为；再也不会问是否君主可以凌驾于法律之上，因为君主只是国家的一部分；再也不会问法律是否可以是非正义的，因为没有人对自己而言是非正义的；再也不会问我们如何能做到既自由自在又受法律约束，因为法律不过是我们自己所期望的东西的寄存器。

同样清楚的是，既然法律将意志的普遍性与立法范畴的普遍性统一起来，任何人——不管是谁——依据自己的权力所要求的任何东西都不是法律；甚至主权者本身就某一特定目标所指令的东西也不是一条法律，而是一道法令；它不是主权的行为，而是政权的行为。

我称任何有法可依的国家为“共和国”，不论其宪法形式如何，因为到那时，只有到那时，公共利益才能得到统一管理，并且只有到那时，公共利益才是“公共的东西”——公共利益——才是真实存在的东西。【5】我下面会解释政权是什么。

除了是公民社会赖以存在的种种条件外，法律真的什么都不是。既然人人都得服从法律，他们就应该是法律的制定者。制定社会规则的权利只属于构成社会的那些人；但是，他们如何运用法律呢？法律靠的是公共契约，还是突发的灵感？政体拥有一个宣布其意志的机构吗？谁将赋予法律以必要阐明条例和提前宣布条例的远见卓识呢？法律将如何在必要时宣布条例呢？一大群盲人常常不知想要什么，因为他们很少知道什么东西对其有用，他们怎么会独自担当像立法制度那样宏大而艰难的任务呢？人们自己总是很想得到好东西，可他们自己并非总能辩认出好东西。公意总是正当合法的，可引导公意的判断并非总有启迪意义。必须促使公意去看事物的本质，有时去看事物的现象。公意必须展示其所探索的美好之路，以便抵御个体欲望的诱惑；公意还必须具有现实意义和历史意义，以便估量眼前切实的优势以防备远处隐藏的恶行。个体看到好东西却拒绝它；公众期望好东西却看不到它。两者都同样需要加以引导。必须强迫个体将其意志服从其理性；必须教会公众识别出其所期望的东西。这样的公众启迪将在社会团体中使理解与意志结合起来，将个体带进完美和谐的境界，并将整体提升到最大的强度。为此，我们需要立法者。

第七章　论立法者

为了寻求最适合国家的社会法则，需要有一个不用触摸人、就能理解人感情的高明智者；这个人与我们的自然没有什么密切的关系，却对自然了如指掌；他的幸福并不依赖于我们的幸福，他却总是关注着我们的幸福，总是在适当的时候满意地等待一份遥远的荣耀，总是在年轻时劳动而在年老时享受劳动的果实。【6】人类总得需要神明给予其法律。

为了给公民或国王下定义，柏拉图曾在他的对话录《政治家》中，从哲学角度应用了与卡里古拉从经验主义角度所应用的相同推理。如果说伟大的君主很少出现是事实的话，一个伟大的立法者的出现又该有多稀罕呢？君主只需遵循立法者提供的模式。立法者是发明机器的工程师；而君主只不过是启动并操作机器的机械师。孟德斯鸠说过：在政治社会诞生之时，正是共和国领袖才形成种种制度，而后来，正是这种制度才造就共和国领袖。

无论谁在建立民族的艰巨事业上冒险，要我们说，都必须准备改变人类的本性，将每个自身彻底完整而孤独的个体改变为更大整体的一部分，到那时，从某种意义上说，同样的个体会从这个整体得到自己的生命与存在。国家的缔造者必须削弱人的组织以强化国家，并用道德上的集体存在取代我们大家从自然那儿得到的物质上的独立存在。总之，每个人都必然要被剥夺去自己的权力，并被赋予对他来说是外部的、而在没有别人的帮助下却无法使用的种种权力。人们的自然权越接近灭绝或消灭，社会制度就越强大越完美，因此，如果每个公民不与别人合作的话，他绝对无所作为。如果整体所获取的权力等于或大于个体中每个人的自然权的总和，那么，我们可以说，制定法律已经达到尽善尽美的程度。

立法者从各方面说都是国家非同寻常的人。之所以非同寻常，不仅是因为其天赋，而且同样是因为其肩负着既非政权也非主权者的职责。这种赋予共和国以宪法的职责在这宪法中却不占一席之地。这是一项与帝权无关的、特别、超然的职责，因为正如指挥人的人没必要掌握法律一样，掌握法律的人也没必要指挥人。否则，作为立法者感情产物的法律，只不过常常使其不公正的东西永世不朽，而且不公正的评价总不可避免地损害其著作的神圣性。

在利库尔戈斯为自己的国家制定法律时，他是以放弃自己君主职责的方式开始这项工作的。授予异乡人以制定城市法框架的任务原是大多数希腊城市的惯例。意大利现在的共和国往往仿效这个惯例。日内瓦共和国也是这样做，并且发觉这种做法挺管用。【7】古罗马在其最幸福的年代看出其境内复兴的暴政犯下的一切罪行，渐渐趋向毁灭，这只是因为古罗马把立法权和主权都攥在自己手里。

然而，即使是古罗马的十大行政官，他们本身从不以自己的权力霸占立法权。他们曾对公民说：“我们对你们提出的东西，未经你们同意，都不可能成为法律。古罗马人本身就是那些保证你们幸福的法律制定者。”

因而，制定法律的人既没必要也不应该拥有什么立法权，一个民族本身也不能拥有立法权，即使这个民族希望如此，本身也应该剥夺这个不可转让的权利，因为按照基本的契约，正是公意才能约束个体，直到个意服从公民的自由投票，才能保证个意与公意的相互一致——这一点我已经说过，可是值得重复论述。

于是，在立法者的工作中我们发现两件看起来似乎矛盾的事情——超越人权的任务及其不存在的行政权力。

还有一道难题值得一提。那些坚持用自己的语言而不用凡人的语言对凡夫俗子说话的圣人，肯定不为人所明白，因为有成千上万个无法译成大众化习语的概念。一些普遍的观点及其生僻的用意同样超越了普通人群所理解的范围；要评价源自好的法律所强加的那永久苛刻的好处，对于那些无法感受服务于个人利益的大政方针的人来说，是一件难事。对一个刚建立起来的民族而言，要理解英明的政治原理，并遵守治国要领的基本法则，那肯定是因果倒置；必然是社会制度产物的社会精神总得支配制度的建设；人们应该在法律出现之前就已适应了正依法适应的东西。立法者因为这些原因既不能使用权力也不能展开辩论，所以必须求助于另一制度的权威——不用暴力就能强迫他人、不用说服就能说服他人的人。

正是这样才强迫历史上各国缔造者求助于神的调和，并将他们自己的智慧归功于神，因为当时那些人感觉他们就像顺从自然法则那样顺从国家的法律，发觉要用相同的手创造人与国家之后，他们才能自由自在地听人发话，温顺地忍受公众幸福的束缚。

当立法者将自己的决策传到不朽人物的口中时，这种在普通民众领袖的上空翱翔的伟大推理被立法者加以利用，因而，神权便驱动了那些人们的谨慎所无法驱动的人。【8】可是，假如每个人都假装是敬神词语的解释者，他就不必让神开口说话，也不必获取神的信任了。立法者的伟大灵魂是必须证实其使命的真实奇迹。任何人都能雕刻石碑，或贿赂一名预言者，声称秘密接触过神学，训练过一只鸟在自己的耳边窃窃私语，或发现某些死死纠缠人的粗鄙手段。可以想象得出，一个会做这种事情的人，可能会聚集起一群蠢人，可是他却永远也创建不了一个帝国，其希奇古怪的创造也将随之消亡。毫无价值的伎俩也许会创建起短暂的联盟，但只有智慧才能创建起永久的联盟。至今仍流行的希伯来法律，以及统治了半个世界多达千年的以实玛利孩子的法律，现今依然显示出最初阐明人类的人之伟大。即使得意洋洋的哲学和派别令人眩目的精神，可能把它们当作万物之外的幸运骗子，真正的政治家也能看得出那只伟大之手，以及隐藏在永久事物后面的强大智慧。

即便如此，我们也不应以此跟着瓦波顿下这样的结论：宗教和政治都有着同样的目的；简而言之，在国家成立之时，宗教充当政治的工具。

第八章　论人民

正像建筑师初次安装建筑测量仪，以检验地面能否承载重量那样，明智的立法者一开始并不是制定对自己有利的法律，而是判定那些对法律感兴趣的人是否能支持法律。这样的推理导致柏拉图拒绝为阿卡迪亚人或塞伦人提供法律，因为他很清楚，那些富人无法容忍平等。克里特岛也提供了一个好法律和恶人的例子，因为米洛斯试图以他们自己的恶习来惩罚人。

这个世界已见证过成百上千个灿烂辉煌的民族，它们可能都没接受过好法律，甚至那些可能接受过好法律的民族，可能只是在其历史上有过如此短暂的法令。大多数民族【9】就像人一样只有在其青年时期是可教的；随着年龄的增长，民族就变得积习难改。一旦习惯形成了，偏见根深蒂固，改造民族成了危险而无果的事业；人民无法容忍看到罪恶肆虐，纵然是连根拔掉；这就像愚蠢胆怯的病人一看见医生就发抖那样。

我并不否认，正如某些痛苦搅乱人们的思想并消除人们对往事的记忆一样，在民族中也有某些重大的暴力事件或革命会对公民产生影响，就像个人的喊叫声可能对人自身有影响一样。他们回顾光荣的历史，而不是忘记过去。那么，在遭内战毁灭后，可以说是民族在一片废墟中再生，跨过了死亡关以重新获得青春的活力。利库尔戈斯时代斯巴达人的经历是如此；塔垦士之后古罗马的经历是如此；在近代世界驱逐专制君主之后，荷兰和瑞士的经历也是如此。

可是，这样的事件并不寻常；它们都是需要由国家特别机构加以解释的例外情况。这种情况不可能第二次在同样的民族身上发生，因为虽然一个民族在仍未开化时可以使自己自由，可是当这个民族的成员筋疲力尽时，它就无法使自己自由了。没有一场能恢复公民社会的革命，而骚乱到那时可能将其毁灭，其结果是锁链一被打破，民族就土崩瓦解、不复存在；那么，其所需要的是一个主人，而不是一个解放者。自由的人儿，请你们记住这句格言：自由可以获得，但决不可以重新获得。

民族与人一样，有一个在被迫服从法律之前必须达到的成熟期；对民族而言，它并不总是轻易地认识到一个民族的成熟；一些事情做得太快，结果反而夭折。人民就不同了；一个是从一开始就应该服从惩罚；另一个则并非这样，甚至千年之后也是如此。俄国人从未被有效统治过，因为为了统治他们太早做出努力。彼得大帝有模仿者的才能，可他却没有真正创造的天资。他所做的一些事情是好的，可大多数是误入歧途。他明白，他的人民尚未开化，可他并不明白自己的人民尚未为政权做好准备；在本应稍微开导他的臣民时，他却试图让他们文明起来。他努力将他们变成德国人或英国人，而不是变成俄国人。他敦促他们脱胎换骨以防他们因循守旧。这就是法国家庭教师可以训练其学生在童年时炫耀一时、成年后却大失风彩的方法。俄罗斯帝国想征服欧洲，却被他人征服。鞑靼人——俄罗斯帝国的臣民或邻国——却成为俄罗斯帝国的主人。欧洲所有国王都在齐心协力做工作以加快俄罗斯进入欧洲的步伐。

第九章　论人民（续）

就像自然已给一个发育健全的人设定了身高范围，出了这范围他不是巨人就是矮子一样，在一部最好的国家宪法所涉及的范围，存在着对其可能拥有的大小规模的限制，这一规模既不是太大而不好治理，也不是太小而无法维护自身。在政体之中存在着一种最大限度的势力，这一势力绝对不可超越，可由于其扩张常常变得后劲不足。社会联盟越扩张就变得越涣散；一般地说，就其规模而言，小国比大国强大。

成百上千次的思考应该证明这一事实的真理。第一，大国幅员辽阔，治理变得难度更大，这就像物体放在杠杆长的那一端，重量会变得更沉重一样。随着领土的扩大，治理也变得更加繁重起来，因为每个城镇都有其自身的需要为其支付工资的管理机构；每个地区有自身的需要为其付出工资的管理机构；而每个省也有这样的一个机构，直至更大的政府所拥有的机构、主管、执政者，每一级别的管理成本越大，他们就升得越高，而费用都得由那些不幸的大众来支付。那么，最高管理机构至高无上，让每个人都得为它承担责任。如此大量层层叠叠的费用不断使得臣民精疲力竭；而如果只有一个管理机构来管理，他们现在的情况比过去更糟，按这种分级的管理，经济状况决不可能变得更好。事实上，几乎没有什么可供紧急事件使用的公共税收，而一旦急需时，国家便会在废墟的边缘上摇摇欲坠。

这还没完。不仅在实施法律、防止令人厌恶的人或事、纠正恶习、阻止偏远居民区的骚乱运动等方面，政权更显得软弱无比、反应迟钝，而且同时，对一个看似天大地大的祖国和与多数陌生人同住一城的人来说，人们对他们从未谋面的执政者缺乏更多的热情。相同的法律并不适用于许多不同的省份，因为它们都有各自的风俗习惯、差别悬殊的气候，因而它们无法容忍形式划一的管理。有了不同法律，只会在生活于相同统治之下不断往来的民族中产生曲解，造成混淆；他们混居并通婚，可如果有两套不同的法规通行的话，他们甚至会不知称为遗产的东西是否真是自己的。当如此多彼此不认识的人，通过一个单一的最高管理机构聚集在同一地方，人才就会被埋没，德行就会被忽视，恶行仍旧得不到惩罚。为了看一看每件事是否都合自己的心意，统治者有太多的事情要做；他们属下的官员管理着国家，并且需要防止许多分散的官员试图逃避职责，或采用一般的权力以吸引一切政治关注的目光，于是，没人愿意留下研究公民的幸福快乐，也几乎没人在需要时为国防而留下。这个因其建制过于庞大的主体，在其自身的重压下崩溃，乃至灭亡。

另一方面，假如一个国家要有势力的话，它就必须为自己打下扎实的基础，以便能抵抗其必受的种种打击，并且能为自身存亡支持必需的种种活动，因为所有民族都会产生一种离心力，凭着这种离心力，它们不断磨擦、互相抗击，都试图以牺牲邻国为代价，像笛卡儿的旋涡一样扩张自己的势力。因而，弱者总是处在被吞食的危险境地。的确，没有哪个民族能妥善保存自己，除非获得一种与其他民族势均力敌的平衡。

这就向我们表明，扩张有其种种理由，收缩也有其种种理由；实际上，判断是一种不可小觑的政治智慧，如同判断一国与另一国之间的精确平衡对国家存亡极为有益一样。一般地说，任何对外扩张比起纯粹的对内收缩应更不具强行的理由。强健的组织是一个国家所期待的第一样东西，因为这种出自好政体的势力，比起大片领土所产生的资源更加可靠。

人们可能会补充说，已存在这样的国家，其政治结构是这样的，征服的必然性是其真正创建的组成部分；也存在这样的国家，它们全然为了维护自身而被迫不停地扩张自己的领土。它们自己有可能已把此当作一件侥幸的必需品来庆贺；可是，对同样必需品的反思必然还向它们昭示，在其伟大的尽头摆放着难免一时倒下的尸体。

第十章　论人民（再续）

衡量一个政体有两种方式，一是按其领土的广阔程度，二是按其人口的数量；如果国家想达到最佳规模的话，在这两个方面之间必须存在一定的平衡。公民创造国家，而土地滋养公民；因而，这种均衡要求应该有足够的土地养育居民，这样跟土地一样多的居民就能得以食养。正是在这种均衡之中，已知的众多人口便产生最大限度的力量，因为如果拥有太多的土地，其治理土地成了沉重负担，耕种不足，生产过度；因而很快成为打保卫战的理由；而另一方面，如果拥有的土地太少，国家必须考虑依靠从其邻国所能进口的东西过日子，这又很快成为打进攻战的理由。任何须在商业与战争之间抉择的民族，实质上是虚弱的；它依赖其邻国，并且还有赖于应急行动；其生存只不过是短暂的、不确定的。它不是去征服别国而结束自己的困境，就是被别国所征服而无以生存。它只能以或大或小的手段来保全自己的自由。

由于物产的性质、气候的影响，由于不同地方的不同特征以及土地肥沃程度的差异，还由于居住在不同区域的人——在土地肥沃的农村一些人极少消费，而一些人完全靠节俭过日子——存在性格上的差异，一个国家无法在其国土面积和居民数量之间确定应有的数学上的确切比例。其次，我们应该考虑到，妇女或大或小的生育力以及国土差异的特点是否对人口有利；立法者可能希望按其制度吸引移民的数量。由此可见，立法者必须根据其所预见而非所见做出决策，计算出与其说是现有人口的数量，不如说是人口必须自然达到的数量。最后，时常在特殊情况下的一些意外事件中，需要或容许征用的土地比似乎需要的多。在耕作型山区农村——森林地和牧场——不需要太多的劳动力，在那儿妇女以经验展示自我，显得比在平原的妇女更具生育力；陡峭山坡仅留下平地边缘角落，只能用来种植植物，男人分布得更开。与此相反的是海边的情况，在那儿男人会聚集在一个狭小的区域，甚至聚集在几乎贫瘠的沙石地当中，因为捕鱼可以弥补农业生产的诸多不足；密集靠拢使这般男人可能更好地抵抗海盗；他们还更易于以殖民的办法来减轻国土上负担过多的人口。

然而，还有一种创建民族的条件，这一条件是其他条件所无法替代的，没有了它，所有的其余条件都归于无效：即人们必须享有和平与富足，因为就像一个军团列阵时一样，在一个国家的形成期，其抵抗力最小，而破坏力最大。一个国家在大混乱中比在酝酿期更能有效地保卫自己，因为那时每个人正考虑的是自身的处境，而不是共同的危险。如果爆发一场战争，在这紧要关头发生饥荒或骚乱的话，国家将不可避免地被推翻。

诚然，许多政体在这样的骚乱期都得以创建，但是随后，正是这样的政体自身才将国家毁灭，因为篡夺者总是选择多事之秋，在民众普遍恐慌之中制定民众在冷静时决不愿意接受的法律。立法者工作有别于暴君工作最明确的方法之一就是：关注其为民族制定宪法的时机。

那么，哪些民族适合接受法律呢？我的回答是：一个发现自己已被原来的某种联盟、利益或习俗捆绑在一起后已无法摆脱法律束缚的民族；一个没有根深蒂固风俗习惯或迷信的民族；一个不惧怕突然的入侵、没有与其邻国争吵而能勇敢面对争吵、或能获得一国支援去抵抗另一国的民族；一个在其内部每个成员都能为大家所知的民族；一个不靠别的民族能过得下去、别国不依靠它也能过得下去的民族；【10】一个既不富裕也不贫穷却足以保存自己的民族；最后是一个将古代民族的凝聚力与现代民族的可塑性结合起来的民族。使立法者工作变得如此之难的东西，与其说是必须创建的东西，不如说是必须摧毁的东西；使成功变得如此稀罕的是，不可能发现自然的简朴及社会所创造的必需品。把所有这些条件融为一体是有困难的。这就是为何体制完备又能生存下来的国家少之又少的原因。

在欧洲还有一个适合接受法律的国家，它就是科西嘉岛。这个勇敢的民族用以复兴和保卫其自由的勇猛和忠诚，使其有资格被智者当作如何维护自由的教科书。我有一个预感：这个小岛总有一天将让欧洲大为吃惊。

第十一章　论不同的法律制度

如果我们要问，应该成为每种法律制度目标的最大好处究竟在哪里，我们会发现，最大好处有两个主要方面：自由与平等：之所以自由，是因为任何个体的依赖都意味着许多的力量都从国家的主体中退出；之所以平等，是因为没有它自由就无以生存。

我已经解释过什么是公民自由；至于平等，这个词不必用来暗示权力与财富的程度应绝对相同，就权力而言，它应该不能成为任何暴力，只有凭职位与法律才能加以行使。就财富而言，没有一个公民会富得足以买下另一个公民，也没有一个公民穷得被迫出卖自己。这反过来表明，更高贵者必须在财富和权力上有所节制，而卑贱者必须在贪婪和私欲上有所节制。【11】

我们听说，如此平等成了一个虚构的理论，它事实上并不存在。可如果恶习不可避免，那么我们至少不该抑制它吗？正因为环境的力量总是趋于破坏平等，所以立法的力量总该趋于维护平等吧。

然而，一切制度的普遍目标必须在各国加以修正来满足当地的条件，以适于相关民族的特性。正是根据这样的要素，一个国家才必须给每个民族制定宪法的特定形式，而这种宪法本质上不可能是最好的，但是对那个命里注定的国家来说却是最好的。例如你的灵魂是贫乏无味的吗？或你的领土对居民来说太小了吗？那么，你可以依靠工业和手工业，利用工业品来交换短缺的天然资源。另一方面，假定你拥有富饶的平原和肥沃的坡地，假定你有优质的土地而人口太少，那么就集中精力搞好农业，增加人口；假定手艺活常会减少农村人口，并带来很少在某些城市中心聚集的居民，那么就避开它。【12】你拥有一条漫长便捷的海岸线吗？那么，将船只驶入大海，发展贸易和航海业。你将会获得光辉而短暂的生命。沿着海岸线，大海正在拍打你几乎难以接近的岩石吗？那么，让经常吃鱼的野蛮人留下，你将过上更平静或许更好的生活，你也一定更加幸福。总之，除了那些为大家所共用的原则之外，每个人都有其特殊的理由以自己的方式去接受这些原则，并且遵循适合自身的法律。因而，正是古代的希伯来人和近代的阿拉伯人，才把宗教当作主要目标，而雅典人搞文学，迦太基人和提尔人搞贸易，罗得西亚人出海远航，斯巴达人打仗，古罗马人注重公民道德建设。《论法的精神》一书的作者用几十个例子表明，立法者的艺术是怎样将宪法指向其每个目标。

要使国家的宪法变得真正持久强大，就要使自然与法律逐渐在各方面变得和谐，并成为一种惯例以便认真遵守，这样我们会说法律似乎只是维护自然，伴随自然，纠正自然。可如果立法者搞错了目标，建立与环境所需不一致的原则，如果他的原则倾向于奴役而事实倾向于自由的话，如果一个应倾向于财富而另一个则倾向于人口增长，如果一个应倾向于和平而另一个则倾向于征战，那么法律将不知不觉地被削弱，宪法将退化，国家将继续骚乱，直到国家最终遭到毁灭或改朝换代。战无不胜的自然将重新赢得自己的帝国。

第十二章　论法律的分类

为了使一切井然有序，也为了给公众带来最可行的法律形式，有各种各样需要考虑的关系。第一，整个政体对自身的作用，换句话说，就是整体与整体之间的关系，或主权者与国家之间的关系。而正如我们会看到的那样，这种关系由中间体之间的种种关系构成。

制定这种关系的法律便有了政治法的称谓，也叫作基本法——如果法律是明智之法，如此称谓不无道理，因为如果国家只有一种规定关系的好办法，那么已经找到好办法的民族就应该遵守它。如果已建立的秩序不太好，为何妨碍秩序良好的法律会被认为是基本法呢？此外，一个民族在任何情况下都应完全自由地修改法律，甚至完善最好的法律；如果宁愿害己，谁又有权阻止其这么做呢？

第二种关系是政体成员之间的关系，或个体与整体之间的关系：个体之间的关系应尽可能受制约，而个体与整体之间的关系也应尽可能广泛，以便每个公民既完全独立于其他公民，又十分依赖共和国——既然只有国家权力才能使其成员变得自由，这一结果总是以同样的手段获得，民法正是源自这第二种关系。

我们可能会考虑到人与法之间的第三种关系，即不服从法律和处罚之间的关系。正是这一点才使刑法得以制定，尽管为社会底层制定的特殊法律比所有其他法律背后的处罚来得少。

在这三类法律上还必须加上第四类。最重要的是，这第四类既不是雕在大理石上，也不是刻在黄铜上，而是铭记在公民的心坎上。它是一种构成国家真正宪法的法律；在其他法律变得陈旧或衰退时，它每天都在凝聚力量，显得鼓舞人心，或将其他法律取而代之；它在其制度精神的鼓舞下维护国家，不知不觉地以习惯势力代替官方势力。我想提及的是道德、风俗以及信仰：这一特性虽不为我们的政治理论家所知，可所有其他法律的成功却都有赖于此；伟大的立法者对此特性给予神秘的关注，尽管他们似乎将自己局限于法律详尽的条款，尽管这些条款只不过是拱顶的拱架，但是他们知道，发展更为缓慢的道德最终将成为国家毫不动摇的基石。

在那些不同类型的法律中，唯有构成政体形式的政治法才与我的主题相关。

注　释

【1】由于意志要成为公意，所以意志没必要总是全体一致，但必须把全部票数都计算在内。任何形式上的例外都会破坏其普遍性。

【2】阿冉松侯爵说过：“每种利益都有其不同的原则。两种利益之间的协调是由与第三种利益相对立而形成的。”他可能会补充说，所有利益的协调是由与个人利益相对立而形成的。如果没有不同利益的话，我们就几乎意识不到一种永远都碰不到障碍的共同利益；一切都将轻松自如地运转，政治也就不再是一种艺术了。

【3】马基雅维利说：“事实上，划分有时有害于一个共和国，有时则是有益的；害处是由派系派别造成的，而益处则是由没有派系派别的党派带来的。因此，既然一个国家的缔造者不可能预防敌意，至少他必须尽可能预防派系纠纷。”（见《弗洛伦萨史》第七卷）

【4】请细心的读者不要因为矛盾而急于责备我。由于语言贫乏，所以我无法避免用语上的矛盾；不过等待吧。

【5】通过这个词，我不仅理解贵族制或民主制，而且还大致理解在成为法律的公意指导下的任何政府。如果公意是合法的，政府就不能与主权者混为一谈，而只能是主权者的执政人；这样君主制可以是共和制。这一点将在第三卷中加以说明。

【6】一个民族直到其国体开始衰退时才出名。我们不知道，在希腊其他地方争相谈论之前，莱格古士的国体给斯巴达人带来了多少世纪的幸福。

【7】把加尔文只当作是一位神学家的那些人，并没有意识到其天才的程度。他在我们充满智慧的法令汇编中起到很大的作用，这给他带来的莫大荣誉不亚于他的《基督教要义》。无论怎样的革命可能在我们的宗教信仰中发生，当对祖国和自由的热爱在我们心中没有泯灭时，那些宗教家们将永远以崇敬的心情缅怀这位伟人。

【8】马基雅维利在文中写道：“事实上，在任何国家从没有过任何不求助于上帝的特殊立法者；否则，法律便不为人所接受；一个智者知道许多有用的真理，而这些真理无法以像说服他人那样的一种方式加以示范。”（《论李维》第五卷第十一章）［原文为意大利语-译注］

【9】（在1782年版中被修订为“大多数民族…”。——译注）

【10】如果两个相邻的民族彼此依存，这种状况对一方是艰难而对另一方却是危险的。在这种情况下，任何聪明的民族都将尽快地把另一个民族从这种依附状态下摆脱出来。处于墨西哥帝国包围中的斯拉斯加拉共和国，宁可不向墨西哥人购买食盐度日，甚至也不接受他们馈赠的食盐。聪明的斯拉斯加拉人看出隐藏在对方宽宏大量背后的阴谋诡计。他们维护了自己的自由，而这个封锁在大帝国领土内的小国最终成为那个帝国毁亡的工具。

【11】你希望国家具有凝聚力吗？那么就尽可能消除贫富悬殊吧；不许有富豪，也不许有赤贫。这两个自然分化的阶级对公共幸福是同样致命的；一个阶级会产生暴政的支持者，而另一个阶级则会产生暴君。这两个阶级始终在做公共自由的交易：一个购买自由，另一个则出卖自由。

【12】阿冉松侯爵说过：“任何外贸部门对整个王国来说，都只不过带来一种虚幻的利益；它可以使一些人甚至一些城市发财致富，但是整个国家却一无所获，而人们为此也得不到更多好处。”

第三卷

在讲不同政府形式之前，让我们锁定政府这个词的确切意思，该词至今尚未得到很好的解释。

第一章　政府总论

我必须提醒读者，本章应当仔细阅读，因为对于那些不想全神贯注的人，我是没有办法讲明白的。

每一种自由的行为都有两个与此同时产生的原因，一个是道德——确定这一行为的意志，另一个是身体——实施行为的体力。当我们走向一个目标时，首先必须确定我应该解决走哪条路；其次是我们的双脚应该抬得动我们自己。当一个瘫痪病人决心要跑步时，当一个健康的人决心不走时，两者都停留在他们所在的位置。政体具有相同的两个动力——并且我们能在意志和体力之间做出相同的区分：前者为立法权；后者为行政权。要是两者不相一致，在这政体中就没有什么事能够或者应该做成。

我们已看出，立法权力属于也能够属于公民。另一方面，从以上［第二卷第四章和第六章］所制定的原则不难看出，既然行政权只在特定的行动中实施，那些特定的行动处于法律范畴之外，因此也处于只制定法律的主权范畴之外，行政权不可能像立法权和主权那样属于一般人。

公众力量因而需要其自身成员将其集中起来，在公意的指导下将其付诸行动，并且作为国家与主权者之间沟通的手段，在某种意义上为公众人物做有血有肉的个体应该做到的事。某些事时常会很不愉快地与主权者搅在一块，可主权的事真的只是大臣们的事，这就是国家需要政府的原因之所在。

那么，什么是政府呢？政府就是臣民与主权者之间为了相互沟通建立起来的中间体，是一个承担行使法律和维护自由的主体，这一主体既是公民的又是政治的。

这个主体的成员被称作行政官或国王，换句话说就是执政者，而整个主体又冠以君主的名称。【1】因而，理论家们否认民族应服从统治者的行为是一种契约，这是完全正确的。由于那种行为只不过是一种职权，一种作为主权者官员的执政者以其名义行使手中权的职业形式，所以主权者所能限制的权力就得痛痛快快地改变，然后再继续行使，既然如此的权力转让总是与社会主体的性质不可兼容，又与社会联盟的意图相互对立。

因此，我把“政府”或“最高行政”称作行政权的合法行使，而我把“君主”或“行政官”称为负责管理机构的人或主体。

正是在政府中，我们才可能辨别出构成整体与整体之间、或主权者与国家之间相互关系的中间力量。这最后一个关系，可描述为一种几何级数的第一个与最后一个条件之间的关系，其中几何学平均值是政府。政府从主权者那儿接受其给予公民的敕令；如果国家想处于完全平衡的状态，所有的事情加以掂量之后，其自身繁殖的政府权力之产物，应该等同于在某种意义上是主权者、在另一种意义上是臣民的公民权力之产物。

此外，这三个条件中的任何一个，在不打破比率的情况下是可以改变的。假如主权者试图统治，或者行政官试图立法，或者臣民拒绝服从，那么敕令将让位于混乱，权力和意志将停止步调一致的行动，解体的国家将不是陷入专制政治，就是陷入无政府主义。最后，由于两个极端之间只有一个几何学平均值，所以一个国家也只能有一个好政府；但是，由于许许多多的事件可能会改变一个国家内部的种种关系，所以不同的政府不仅可能对不同的民族有好处，而且可能在不同的时期对相同的民族也有好处。

为了设法解说可能存在于这两个极端之间的种种关系，我将以人口数量为例，因为这是一种像比率那样不难表达的关系。

假设一个国家由一万个公民组成。主权者只能被共同视为主体，而每个成员作为臣民必然被视为个体。因而，主权者与臣民的比率就是一万比一，那就是说，国家中每个成员只有万分之一的主权份额，尽管他使得自己完全屈从于主权者。现在，假设这个民族增加到十万人的话，每个臣民的地位并没有改变，因为每个人与其他人一道同样支撑起整个法制帝国，而作为主权者，人们的投票份额减少到十万分之一，结果他在合法的发言中少了十倍的影响。因此，主权者与臣民的比率虽按公民数量有所增加，可臣民依然还是单一的个体。由此可见，国家越扩大，自由就越减小。

当说到比率增加时，我的意思是，比率是从单一中进一步上升。这样，在数学意义上的比率越大，在大众意义上的关系就越小，因为在前者中，根据这一点考虑的比率用商数来衡量，而在后者中，根据同一性考虑的那种关系却用相似性来判断。

特殊意志与公意之间即人们的道德与法律之间的关系越小，需要使用的压制力就越多。因此，为了对政府有好处，其势力必须加大，达到人口众多的程度。在人口比率中，既然国家的扩大意味着为官员提供更多的诱惑，以及更多滥用手中权力的机会，由此可见，政府需要用来管理公民的权力越多，主权者反过来需要用来治理政府的权力就越多。我在此所说的并非绝对权力，而是国家不同成分的相对权力。

由这种双重关系可见，主权者、君主和公民之间的几何级数决不是一个任意的概念，而是政体性质的必然结果。由此还可见，这些条件之一——即把公民作为臣民——以统一性来表示，每当比率平方或增或减，简单的比率就以同样的方式或增或减。中间那个条件——即政府——由此而改变。这表明，不存在唯一绝对的政府组织，不过或许有多少大小不同的国家，就有多少不同类型的政府。

如果任何想嘲弄这种体制的人提出，为了找到这个几何级数并建立政体的话，人们只需照我的观点去掉人口数的平方根，我应该回答，我在此仅以数量为例；我所讲的比率不仅以人口数来衡量，而且更通常以无数原因并发造成的活力数来衡量；我得补充说明的是，虽然为了用三言两语表达自己的想法，我刚才借用过数学语言，但是我仍然意识到，数学的精确度在道德的衡量中没有一席之地。

政府贵在小巧，就像（包含政府的）政体贵在庞大一样。政府是一个赋予某些功能的、像主权者那样积极却像国家那样被动的虚构者，它可以分为几种相似的关系；因此这些关系产生一种新比率。在每种关系的范围内，我们可根据行政官的排序继续分析，直至我们取得唯一不可分割的中间条件，即唯一的统治者，或可在这几何级数中心出现的最高行政官，就像分数系列与整数系列之间的统一条件一样。

不要让我们自己接受那么多的条件，让我们简单地考虑一下国家之内作为新主体的政府，既有别于公民与主权者，又有别于这两者之间的中间体。

这两个主体之间存在着本质上的差异——国家就其本身而言是存在的，而政府只有借助主权者才能存在。因而，君主占主导地位的意志是或应该是唯一的公意或法律，而君主权力以外的公共权力却集中在君主手中；君主一旦决心以自己的权威施行某些绝对不受约束的行为，所有联合体就开始减缓行动。如果最后出现君主拥有比主权者更积极的特殊意志，如果他为加强对特殊意志的服从而利用了手中的公众意志，那么结果就是存在两个主权者：一个是权利上的，另一个是事实上的，届时社会契约立刻消失，政体也随之瓦解。

即便如此，对于有生命——有别国体的真正生命——的政体而言，对于能步调一致行动、为政府业已建立的目标而服务的所有成员来说，政府拥有特定的自我、成员相同的意识、一种力量、倾向于自身生存的意志。如此特定的生存就要有大会、内阁会议、审议权和决定权利、头衔和特权，而特权专属于君主，君主根据官员的努力程度来安排更正直行政官的职位。难的是找到一种一呼百应的办法，使政府不但不削弱宪法通则，而且能够自我巩固；为自身生存而设计的个人权力，总是区别于为国家生存而设计的公众权力；总而言之，国家始终准备为了公民而牺牲政府，而不是为了政府而牺牲公民。

再者，即使政府这个人为的主体是另一个同样人为的主体的产物，即使前者只是过着一种依靠别人的从属生活，但这并不妨碍它能以或大或小的精力和或快或慢的速度行动，可以说，也不阻碍它能享受一种或多或少充满活力的健康生活。最后，要是不直接离开它已设定好的种种目标，根据已构成的方式，它可能在不同程度上偏离目标。

正是这些差异才滋生出各种各样的关系，这些关系依国家被改变所凭借的偶然关系与特殊关系，本应该存在于政府与政体之间，因为本质上最好的政府常常成为最不幸的政府，除非它与国家的关系得以改善，以弥补它所属政体的种种不足。

第二章　论不同政府形式的建制原则

既然我已经在国家与主权者之间做过区分，所以为了解释这些差异的一般原因，现在有必要在君主和政府之间也做一番区分。

行政官主体可能由或多或少的成员组成。我们已看到，主权者与臣民的比率可以大到人口众多的程度。通过明显的类推，我们可以说，政府较之行政官也有同样的比率。

既然政府的整个权力不论何时都是国家的权力，这一点从未有过改变；由此可见，政府在其成员上施加的权力越大，留给全体公民的权力就越小。

所以行政官的数量越多，政府就显得越弱。由于这是一项基本原则，那就让我们努力把它弄得更清楚吧。

我们可在行政官个人身上辨别出三个本质上不同的意志。第一，属于作为个体的他、只倾向他个人利益的意志。第二，行政官的集体意志；这只涉及到君主利益，可称为团体的意志，因为它与政府相比是一般的，而与政府成为其一部分的国家相比又是特殊的。第三，公民意志或主权者意志，主权者意志对作为一个整体来考虑的国家来说是普遍的，而对作为整体一部分来考虑的政府而言也是普遍的。

在一个立法健全的体制中，个意或特殊意志总是不存在的，政府自身的团体的意志处于非常次要的地位。公意或主权者意志因此总是处于主要地位，也总是所有其他意志的唯一规范。

相反，在自然秩序中这些不同的意志变得越活跃，它们就显得越以自我为中心。因此，公意总是最软弱的，团体的意志排列第二，特殊意志名列第一；结果，在政府内部，每个成员首先是个人的自我，其次是行政官，最后是公民。这一排序正好与社会秩序所要求的相反。

这一点成立之后，我们假设政府掌握在单一个体的手中。那么，特殊意志与团体的意志就会完美地结合在一起，团体的意志从而提升到尽可能高的程度。现在，既然权力的行使取决于意志，既然政府的绝对权力总是不变的，由此可见，最具活力的政府就是一个人的政府。

另一方面，如果我们的政府和立法权威结合起来，使君主成为主权者，使每个公民成为行政官——到那时，与公意融为一体的团体的意志与公意一样不活跃，使得特殊意志去指挥整个权力。因而，始终具有相同绝对势力的政府将留下最少的相对势力和活力。

这些关系无可争议，而其他的思考进一步补充了证据。例如，我们清楚，每个行政官在政府机构内比每个公民在国家主体内活跃。因此，特殊意志对政府行为比对主权者行为产生更大的影响，因为每个行政官几乎总是肩负着政府的某种不同职责，而就个体而言，公民都不承担主权中任何不同的职责。此外，国家扩张得越大，其真正的势力就增加得越多，尽管与其扩张不成比例；可如果国家仍然一样大小的话，行政官可能成倍增加，政府却没由此增加什么真正的势力，因为政府势力就是国家势力，这两种势力总是相同的。政府的相对势力或相对活力，在其绝对或真正势力不可能增加的情况下，就是以这种方式减少。

而且，无可置疑的是，公众事务的派遣相应变得迟缓，因为有更多的人负责公众事务；由于过于谨慎，大机构几乎不爱碰运气；它们错过了许多机会，由于过于长时间深思熟虑，以致于失去了思考的种种益处。

我刚刚说过，政府涣散到行政官成倍增加的程度。我早说过，人口数量变得越多，约束力必然变得越大。由此可见，行政官与政府的比率应该跟臣民与主权者的比率相反；换句话说，国家扩张得越大，政府必须减少的等级就越高，其结果是，行政官数量应当按人口的增加成比例地缩少。

我得补充说，我在此谈的是政府的相对势力，而不是其行为特性。因为正相反，行政官人数越多，他们的团体意志就越接近公意，而在唯一的行政官行使职权的情况下，相同的团体的意志就像我所说的那样，只是一种特殊意志。因此，一方面有所失，而另一方面就有所得；立法者的艺术就在于懂得如何确定这样的一个点：政府的势力与政府的意志就能按最有利于国家的比率结合起来，因为政府始终与这一比率背道而驰。

第三章　论政府的分类

从上一章我们了解到，为何按组成政府的成员数量来区分政府的各种类型或各种形式；本章还要阐明政府的分类如何进行的问题。

首先，主权者可能将政府交到全体公民手中，或交到绝大多数人手中，使得普通行政官比普通公民更多。这种政府形式就是民主制。

此外，主权者可能将政权限制在少数人手中，这样，普通公民就比行政官更多：这种政府形式就是贵族制。

再次，主权者可能将整个政府集中在唯一的一个行政官手中，所有其他人都将从他那儿得到权力。这第三种政府的形式最为普遍，被称作君主制或王室政府。

应当注意的是，所有这些形式，或者至少前两种形式或大或小都可能存在过；它们具有相当明显的伸缩性。民主制可能包括所有的人，或者它受到限制只包括半数的人。轮到贵族制执政时，它可能扩大到半数的人，或者局限于极少数人。即使王室政府在某种程度上也可能由人们分享。斯巴达按其宪法一直有过两个国王；要是古罗马帝国分裂过的事是道听途说的话，古罗马帝国还以同时拥有过多达八个君主而闻名于世。因而，每一种政府形式总有某一点与另一种政府形式重叠的地方；显然，政府虽只有三种名称，但它实际上对形式的诸多变化持开放的态度，就像国家拥有不同的公民一样。

再者，既然一个政府在某些方面能够将自己分成几个独立的机构，其中这个机构管一方面，那个机构管另一方面。政府的这三种形式可以结合起来，产生多个混合形式，政府可按这三种简单的形式成倍地增加混合型中的每种形式。

在每个历史朝代，人们都争论过这样一个问题：“什么是政府的最佳形式？”然而，他们不明白，一种可能做到的形式在某种情况下是最佳的，而在另一种情况下却是最糟的。

假设在每个特定的国家，最高行政官数量应跟公民人数成反比的话，就会得出以下结果：一般地说，民主政府适于小国；贵族政府适于不大不小的国家；君主政府则适于大国。这一法则直接从我们的定理中得出；可是，我们怎么去计算可提供这条法则的多数例外情况呢？

第四章　论民主制

制定法律的人比任何其他人都清楚法律应该如何实施与解释。于是，或许看起来，不可能有比行政权与立法权结合起来的更好宪法了；其实，这种真正的结合使政府的形式在某些方面变得不完善，因为本应该被分开的东西而不分开，君主与主权者是同一个人，这可以说是一个没有政府的政府。

制定法律的人应该执行法律，或者公民团体不应该将注意力放在普遍的观点上，而应该重视特殊的对象，这可不是一件好事。在公共事务中，没有什么会比私利的影响更加危险了。政府滥用法律之邪恶不亚于立法者追逐私利而不可避免导致的腐败。这种情况发生时，国家便会在自身的肌体内腐败，再进行改良也无济无事。一个从不滥用政府各种权力的民族，决不会滥用独立自主，而一个始终自我管理良好的民族，也无需由别人来管理。

从严格意义上说，至今未曾有过真正的民主制，将来也决不会有。管理人员数目越大，被管理人员数目就越小，这是违背自然法则的。人们几乎无法想象，所有人都得永久地坐在大会上处理公务；人们可能很容易明白，这种行政形式不加改变，他们不可能为了这一目的而任命执政者。

我的确相信，人们可以制定这样一条原则：当政府种种职能由若干委员会分别掌握时，如果只是因为调度事务的设施自然导往那个方向，那些拥有最少成员的委员会应该迟早获得最大的权力。

此外，政府的民主形式预示到多少难以同时拥有的东西呢？第一，在一个非常小的国家，人们可能轻而易举地聚集在一起，而且每个公民都很容易相互认识。第二，举止和道德相当简朴，以避免过多的事务和棘手的争论。第三，采取社会等级和财富平等的重大措施，因为要是没有权利的平等，权力就不会持久。第四，提倡节俭而不讲究奢侈，因为奢侈并不是财富的结果，而是使财富变成必需品；奢侈不但腐化富人，也腐化穷人；奢侈在使一些人成为别人的奴隶以及一切观念上的奴隶的同时，也将使国家失去所有公民。

这就是为什么一个名作家已使美德变成一个共和国的基本原则，因为没有美德，我所说的一切条件就不可能盛行。可就是这个同样伟大的天才，无法做出必要的区别，常常犯错，有时还令人费解。他无法明白，既然主权者的权威放之四海而皆准，同样的原理在每个健全的国家应占有一席之地，尽管从规模上说确实要依照该政府的形式而定。

我们可以补充说，没有一个政府像民主政府或人民政府那样，很可能发生内战和两败俱伤的冲突，因为没有哪个政府会如此坚定有力地趋向于改朝换代，也没有哪个政府需要那么多的警惕性和勇气以维护其不变的状态。正是在这种宪法而非其他的情况下，公民必须用自身的力量和忠诚武装起来，每天在生活中都要从内心深处重温善良的巴拉丁【2】在波兰议会上中曾说过的话：“我愿自由而有危险,但不愿安宁而受奴役。”【3】

要是有一个天神之国的话，这样的国家必定治理得十分民主。如此完美的国家并不适合于人类。

第五章　论贵族制

我们这里有两个截然不同的非自然人，即政府和主权者，所以就有了两个公意，一个属于全体公民，另一个只属于管理者。因而，政府虽可随意制定其内部规章，但它决不能向公民呼吁，除非以主权者的名义，即以民族本身绝不可忘却的名义。

原始社会都是由贵族治理的社会。家族首领们商讨他们当中的公共事务；年轻人心甘情愿地服从经验的权威。因此，就有了牧师、长老、元老、长者等名称。北美洲的野蛮人现在仍然保留着这种治理方法。他们不也治理有方么。

可是，到了自然的平等渐渐胜过自然的不平等时，财富与权力【4】逐渐倾向于老化，贵族社会便有了选举权。最后，父辈遗留给子辈的权力连同所有权使家族成了贵族，这又使得政权世袭；到那时就出现了几个年仅二十的元老。

因而就有了三种贵族制，即自然的、选举的和世袭的。第一种类型只适合于原始人；第三种类型是所有贵族制中最糟糕的一种；第二种类型最好。这就是贵族制这个词的真正含义。

贵族制不仅具有主权者与政府之间区别的好处，而且还具有选择其行政官的好处。在公民政府中，所有公民生来都是行政官，而另一种政府却将自身限定在少数人能被选举【5】的行政官手里，这一方法使得诚实、精明、经验、民众偏好与尊重等所有其他理由都进一步保证了明智政府的存在。

此外，人们可能更容易安排会议，从而能够更好地商议事务，更有序更勤勉地派遣事务；国家荣誉在异乡人眼里之所以得到更好地维护，是因为值得尊敬的元老，而不是因为默默无闻、受人鄙视的大众。

总之，如果我们确信，最英明者一定会为大众利益而非为一己之利治理国家的话，由他们来统治大众就是最佳最自然的安排。人们理应不会徒劳地成倍增加种种方法，也不会雇两万人来完成一百个精挑细选的人能圆满完成的任务。不过，必须注意到的是，共同利益始于更不严格按公意来引导国家势力这一点；更不可避免的趋向是，一部分行政权在逃避法律的监督。

至于适合政府的这种形式，没必要把国家变得那么小，把公民变得那么单纯、那么正直，就像好的民主制一样，以便法律的实施可以立即顺从公意。国家也没必要那么大，以致于四处分散的行政官不得不自己承担起主权者的权力，各守一方，于是，就以独立自主开始，以各霸一方告终。

可是，如果贵族制宁愿提倡为数甚少的美德，而不提倡民众治理的话，它还是在提倡自己的德行，就像在富人之间提倡节制、在穷人之间提倡满足一样，因为看起来，严格的平等总是不合时宜的；这甚至在斯巴达也是见所未见。

此外，如果政府的这种形式牵涉到某些财富的不平等，公共事务应该委托给那些能一直投身于此的人。要不是这样，就会像亚里斯多德所主张的那样，结果富人总会被选定。反之，相对的选择应偶尔教会人们：人的功绩比财富更有资格得到优先考虑，这是必不可少的。

第六章　论君主制

到目前为止，我们已把君主看作是一个集体的、非自然的人，他与法律的力量融为一体，在国家中扮演行政权的受托人的角色。我们现在必须考虑，掌握在一个自然人——真正的人——手里的权力，就是一种依法有行使权的唯一权利。这样的一个人称为君主或国王。

这正好与其他管理机构相反，在其他机构，一个集体中的人代表一个个体，既然是这样，一个个体又代表一个集体的人；这样，设立君主的道德统一性同时又是物质统一性，它们能将法律其他形式的管理机构难以聚拢的权力自然而然地聚拢起来。

因而，公民的意志与君主的意志、自然的公众力量与政府的个体权力，所有这些都对同一个行为者有所反应；所有机器杠杆都掌握在同一个人手中；所有行为都朝着同一个目标；不存在什么相互对抗的矛盾，因而我们就无法想象出存在一个少劳多得的国体。阿基米德静静地坐在海岸上，毫不费力地发动一艘巨轮，这是一个身居议院却要治理庞大王国、自身似乎不动却得使一切转动的精明君主所要模仿的范例。

可如果没有比君主更朝气蓬勃的政府，那也就没有更多特殊意志所具有的法令，以及更易支配其他意志的政府了。诚然，每样东西都朝着同样的目标移动，但是，那个目标并不是公众的幸福；管理机构的真正力量继续不断朝着国家不利的方向运行。

国王们都想绝对独立，而人们从遥远处对国王们大声呼喊：想变得绝对独立的最好办法是使自己得到公民的爱戴。这是一条很好的箴言，甚至在某些方面还是一条千真万确的箴言。不幸的是，这条箴言总在宫廷里遭到嘲笑。建立在爱民基础上的权力无疑是最伟大的权力，不过也是不稳固的、暂时的权力；君主们绝不会对此心满意足。最好的国王都想要为所欲为，只要这样做不会妨碍他依然做主人；一个政治说教者很可能会对国王说：既然公民的力量就是国王的力量，那么国王的最大利益就是使得民族繁荣昌盛、人丁兴旺、令人敬畏。可是，国王十分明白这并非事实。他们的个人利益主要在于，公民就应该软弱、悲惨，而从不反抗他们。我承认，如果臣民们老是伏伏贴贴地顺从国王，那么公民变得强大起来的结果是，公民的力量也就是君主的力量，就会让其邻国惧怕，这就满足了君主的利益；可既然这只是次要的、从属的利益，既然力量与顺从不可兼容，君主们总是优先采纳更直接对他们有益的学说。这就是塞缪尔极力向希伯来人强调的东西，也是马基雅维利很清楚地证明过的东西——在假装指示国王的情况下，他已经给予人们深刻的教训。马基雅维利的《君王论》是一部为共和论者而写的手册。【6】

从对一般比例的讨论可见，君主制只适合大国，而且当我们检验君主制本身时，我们再一次感受到这一点。公共行政人员的数量越多，君主与臣民的比率就减少得越多，越接近相等，乃至逐渐达到一比一，或者在民主制中就达到完全相等。随着政府的收缩，这同一比率会越来越大；当政权掌握在唯一的一个人手里时，这一比率将达到最大限度。到那时，君主与公民之间存在太大的差距，国家便缺少团结的联盟。这样的联盟要想形成，就必须有中间社会阶层，并且还要给他们灌输高贵、伟大、庄严等东西。但是，这一切都不适合一个会遭许许多多社会秩序毁灭的小国。

可如果管好一个大国是有难度的话，一个人单枪匹马要管好大国就难上加难了；而每个人都知道，当一个国王通过议员来统治国家时会发生什么情况。

一个始终使君主制不如共和国的十分重要又不可避免的缺陷是，在共和国中，民众的选择几乎总是被提升到最高地位，而只有有知识、有能力的人，才是给他们的职责带来荣誉的人；那些在君主制下加官进爵的人，几乎总是糊里糊涂的小才子、小流氓、阴谋家，他们小有才干，在宫廷里能让自己爬到最高职位，不过一被任命，他们的小才干便在公众面前暴露出无能。比起君主，公民更不经常在这样的选择中犯错。真正有才的人在王室内当阁臣，几乎就像傻子在共和政府里当首相一样稀奇罕见。因而，碰巧天生的统治者在君主制中执掌事务之舵，而这个政体几乎由不同寻常的行政人员组成的乌合之众时，每个人都会为统治者所发现的资源感到惊愕，而他的统治将在国史上开创一个新纪元。

君主制想要得到很好的治理，其领土大小和边界范围都应与行政人员成比例。征服一个国家比治理一个国家来得容易。一个手指在足够长的杠杆作用下可以转动地球；可要撑住地球，一个人必须拥有一副大力神赫克里斯的肩膀。无论国家有多小，君主几乎总不知足。另一方面，当正好国家对其统治者而言显得太小时，那么国家就治理得更差，这倒是一件稀罕事，因为这样一个统治者在高瞻远瞩时忽略了公民的利益；他滥用其超强能力给人所带来的不幸，不亚于才能平平的统治者给人民带来的不幸。这就好比王国根据君主的能力应该继续盛世还是改朝换代一样。另一方面，在一个参议院议员超额的共和国，在行政机构运转不太灵动的情况下，国家可能已经确定好边界线了。

一个人掌权的政府最显而易见的缺点，就是缺乏另两种体制中联盟不间断联合的连续性。当国王驾崩时，新国王必定要继位；大选留下一段危险的间歇；这些大选就像暴风骤雨；与这种政府治理下的通常情形相比，如果他们不具有更加公正和诚实的行为，那势必存在贿赂和腐化的现象。一个已经买下国家的人很难到头来不把它卖掉，然后向弱者收回强者从他那儿勒索走的黄金，这对购买者来说是很难的。在这样的管理情况下，迟早一切都会成为贪污腐败的东西；而在国王统治下所享受的安宁比空位时期的骚乱更糟糕。

为了阻止恶行，人们都做了什么呢？在某些家族，王位已成为世袭制，因而建立起一个有连贯性的秩序，以避免国王驾崩时的任何争端——换句话说，明智的政体优先选择明显平静的方式，以替代大选和新王继位带来的不利，他们宁可冒着由小孩或怪物或弱智者担任统治者的风险，而不愿意为了选择好国王而发生纠纷。人们没有意识到，在将自己暴露在这两难境地时，他们为防备所有可能发生的事情而孤注一掷。当父亲因其不光彩的行为而责备他：“我给你树立过这样的榜样吗？”年轻的狄俄尼索斯答道：“啊！您的父亲不是国王啊。”这是一句多么精辟的话语。

当某人长大成人可以统治别人时，一切都来争相剥夺他的正义与理性。我们听说过，历经磨难是为了给年轻的王子讲授统治的艺术；不过，好象这种教育对他们并没有什么好处。以教他们顺从的艺术开始应该更好。史上已知最伟大的国王，并不在长大后当统治者的那些人之列，因为统治是一门至少通过大量实践才能精通的学问；它也是一门一个人在顺从中比在指挥中领悟得更好的学问。Nam utilissimus idem ac brevissimus bonarum malarumque rerum delectus, cogitare quid aut nolueris sub alio Principe aut volueris（因为区分好坏最有效最简便的方法是：如果当君主的不是自己而是别人，那就考虑一下自己想要什么，不想要什么）。【7】

这种缺乏一致性的结果成为王室政府不稳定的因素，这种政府时而由这个方针指导，时而由那个方针指导，依赖在位国王的个性，或依赖那些为国王效劳的人，无法长久地拥有一个固定的目标或一以贯之的政策；这种不稳定的状况使得国家的准则和国家的方针漂移不定，这一缺陷在总是同一君主的政府中是找不到的。因而，我们明白，通常如果在王室宫廷中有越多的狡诈，在共和国中就有越多的智慧，以及越稳定越有效的引导——在管理机构每次变革意味着一次国家变革的地方无法得到的某些东西——因为所有大臣和近乎所有国王都要颠覆他们先辈的政策，这是一条普遍的法则。

这种凝聚力的缺乏，给保皇党政治思想家中习以为常的谬误提供了谎言，就是说，不仅把公民政府比作家族政府，把君主比作一家之长——我已经反驳过的谬误——而且把统治者所需要的所有美德慷慨大方地归于一个王室统治者，并且总以为君主该怎么样就怎么样。在这些设想的促使下，王室政府明显变得比其他国王更优越，因为它无可争议是最强大的，并且只需一个与也是政府最佳形式所具有的公意更为协调的团体的意志。

可是，如果根据柏拉图的说法，一个天生的国王是十分罕见的人的话，自然与命运多久才能结合以使这样的人登基呢？如果王室教育必然腐化那些受教育者的话，长大后要当国王的继位者又能指望什么呢？

将王室政府与有一个好国王的政府混为一谈，这是故意自欺欺人。要了解政府的这种形式究竟是什么，人们必须把这种政府看作是在平庸或邪恶君主统治下的政府，因为不是君主在继位时会这样，就是占据王位时他们就变成这样。

虽然我们的缔造者免不了有这些困难，但是困难从未使他们处于进退两难的尴尬境地。他们说，毫无怨言地去服从是一剂良药。神愤怒时强行把坏国王给了我们，于是，他们必须将其作为一次神的惩罚来忍受。这个争论无疑是有启发性的；不过，我想象它比政治理论书更适用于讲坛。一个医生许诺奇迹会发生，他的全部医术就是教病人训练耐性，对这样的医生还有什么话可说呢？

我们大家都知道，当一个政府不好时，我们不得不容忍这样一个坏政府；那问题是要去寻找一个好政府呀。

第七章　论混合政府

严格地说，一种形式简单的政府是生存不下去的。一个国家元首必须有属下的行政官；一个公民政府必须有一个首脑。因而，在行政权力的分配中，总是存在着从较大到较小的等级——有了这种差异，有时少数得服从多数，而有时多数却得服从少数。

有时，还存在一个平等的划分，这种划分不是在组成部分像在英国政府中的情况那样相互依赖的时候，就是每部分权力像波兰的情况那样独立而不完善的时候。这后者的形式不是很好，因为在政府中不存在团结，而国家又缺乏联合体的结合。那么哪一种政府更好？是简单形式的政府还是混合形式的政府呢？这是一个政治理论家颇多争论的问题，也是一个我本人必须回答的问题，我早在关于政府的所有形式问题中就给过答案。

实际上，那种简单形式的政府最好，正因为它简单。但是，当行政权不足以辅助立法权——那就是说，当君主与主权者的比率比公民与君主的比率更大——这个比例的不足必须通过划分政权来加以矫正，因为到那时政府所有不同的要素依旧拥有超过臣民的权力，不过，权力的分离将使他们的权力与主权者的相比变小了。

同样的劣势还可以通过设立居间的行政官来避免，这些行政官与整个政权分隔开来，只为了平衡这两种权力，并为维护各自的权利而服务。那么，这种政府不是混合的而是调和的。

相对的劣势可用类似的方法加以补救；当政府太涣散时，可设立一些委员会使之集中化。在第一种情况下，政府划分是为了将其削弱；而在第二种情况下，则是为了加强政府。这是所有民主制的惯用做法。在政府的简单形式中同样发现强弱的最大限度，而这种混合形式提供一种适中的强度。

第八章　论所有政府形式并非适合所有国家

自由并非每种社会思潮的产物，因此自由也不在每个人的能力范围之内。人们对孟德斯鸠的这一学说思考得越多，对其真理的意识就越强。同时，这一学说越经常受到挑战，给予人们以新证据立学说的机会就越多。

在世界上的每个政府中，公众人物在消费物质，而不是产生物质。政府从哪儿得到其所消费的物质呢？是从其成员的劳动中得到。正是私人生产的过剩才供给公用的物质。由此可见，只有当成员的劳动生产比其自身所需要的多，公民国家才能生存下去。

可是，这种过剩在世界上的每个国家不尽相同。在一些国家是相当过剩，而在另一些国家是中等过剩；在一些国家是没有过剩，而在另一些国家是亏空。过剩的比例取决于地带的肥沃、国土所需要的劳动种类、产品的性质、居民的力量、居民需要的消费程度以及构成政体比例的各种各样的因素。

另外，所有政府并非都拥有相同的自然条件。一些政府比另一些政府更贪得无厌；它们的种种差异都建立在以下的原则基础上——民众的贡献来自它们的资源越多，他们的负担就越重。这种负担不应以付出贡献的数量来衡量，而应以返还到生产者手里的距离来衡量；如果这一循环快捷且良好，不论付出多少都没有关系；人们将一直富有，财政也将昌盛。相应地，不管人们给得怎么少，当不返还给他们少许的东西时，他们很快就会在不断的付出中将自己消耗殆尽；要是国家从不富有，公民就永远赤贫。

这表明，公民与政府之间的距离越大，税负就变得越重，其结果是，人们的税金负担在民主社会最少，在贵族社会较多，而在君主国则是三者中最多。因而，君主制适宜于富国，贵族制适宜于那些富裕程度与领土大小适中的国家，而民主制则适宜于贫穷小国。

的确，人们思考得越多，对自由国与君主国之间存在着差异的这个问题就认识得越深；在前者，一切都为共同的利益所用；而在后者，私人利益与公众利益则相互竞争，即一个要通过削弱另一个而增加。至于暴政，为了达到统治臣民的目的，它想让臣民过的是悲惨生活，而不是幸福生活。

然而，每个地区都有其种种自然因素，根据这些因素人们可以决定该地区所需要的政府形式；我们甚至还可以说出每个政府必须拥有什么样的居民。

贫瘠的不毛之地所产生的产品抵偿不了所付出的劳动，这样的地还是不该去耕作，而应该废弃荒芜，或者只应该让野蛮人去居住。只生产人们生活所缺必需品的地方也应当让野蛮人去居住，因为政治社会在那儿不可能存在。适度的劳动就能换来过剩产品的地方适宜自由人居住。些许的劳动就能带来丰厚回报的富饶肥沃的地方，就需要由君主政府来居住，以便君主的奢侈生活可以消费掉臣民过剩的产品——因为这些过剩产品应该由政府来采购，这比由私人来消耗来得更好。我知道有例外的情况，不过这些例外本身认可这一规则，因为它们迟早都会产生种种变革，而这些变革使得事物回到自然的秩序。

我们应当始终把一般法则与可能改变结果的原因区别开来。如果整个南方由共和党人居住，而整个北方由专制国家占据的话，根据气候条件，暴政适宜于气候炎热的国家，野蛮适宜于气候寒冷的国家，好政策适宜于气候温和的地区，这一法则肯定还是对的。我意识到，这个一般法则可以接受，而它的应用却可能遭到质疑；可能争议的是，气候十分寒冷的国家有非常肥沃的土地，而气候十分炎热的国家也有非常贫瘠的土地。不过，对那些不从全面的比率看情况的人来说，这只是个难题。正如我曾说过的那样，人们必须考虑到生产、势力、消费等因素。

假设有两块大小相同的土地，一块生产五种植物，另一块生产十种植物。如果前者的居民消费掉四种，后者的居民消费掉九种的话，一个过剩五分之一，另一个过剩十分之一。这两种过剩的比率与其产品的比率则是相反的，其结果是，生产五种植物的土地所显示的过剩是生产十种植物土地的过剩的两倍。

但是，不存在两倍产品的问题。我相信，任何人都不敢把寒冷国家的多产等同于炎热国家的多产。不过，让我们假设这是相等的吧：例如，让我们比较一下英国和西西里岛、波兰和埃及。再往南有非洲和印度；再往北就什么都没有了。为了达到产品的同等，不同国家在农业技术方面有什么差异呢？在西西里岛，简单地耙一耙土壤就足够了，而在英国，要解决问题则需要付出多么大的努力啊！时至今日，需要更多人手才能获得一样多产品的地方，过剩必然更少。

除此之外，在炎热的国家，同样数量的人消费更少的东西。炎热的气候需要人们变得饮食有度以保持健康——欧洲人试图像在国内生活一样在炎热的国家生活，却死于痢疾和胃病。沙尔丹说：“与亚洲人相比，我们是食肉动物的狼。一些人把波斯人的饮食有度归因于他们国家较少的土地耕种；可相反，我认为，之所以他们国家在食品方面不够丰富，是因为居民需求量较少。如果他们节俭［他继续］是土地不足导致的话，那只有穷人才吃得很少；实际上，他们每个人都吃得很少；人们发现王国上上下下人人都一样节俭，却没发现在哪个省份人们吃得多少是根据土地肥沃的情况。他们对自己的生活方式颇感自豪，并且说：人们只须看他们的肤色就会明白，他们的生活方式比其他国家的优越得多。的确，波斯人的肤色鲜亮，精致光滑的皮肤呈浅色，而他们的臣民亚美尼亚人，尽管有欧洲人的举止，可他们的皮肤却粗糙，长满斑污，而且肥胖而笨拙。”

人们离赤道越近，生活过得就越节俭。他们几乎不吃肉；大米、玉米、蒸粗麦粉、小米和木薯是他们的日常食品。印度有成百上千万的人，他们一天的食品值不了一便士。在欧洲本土我们注意到，北欧人的胃口和南欧人的明显不同。西班牙人可以八天时间靠德国人的主食生活。在人们胃口比较大的国家，奢侈转化为人们的消费品。在英国，奢侈本身就表现在餐桌上堆满各种肉食；而在意大利，人们却享用食糖和花卉。

服装的奢侈显示出同样的差异。在季节变化又快又明显的国家，人们拥有更为简单大方的衣服；在人们只是为了外表而穿戴的国家，人们更注重的是服装秀，而不是服装的实用性，况且衣服本身就是一种奢侈品。在那不勒斯，你天天都会看到人们身穿绣金外套而不穿长统袜沿着普斯里普漫步。那儿的建筑也是同样的风格；因为对那儿的气候没有什么可害怕的，人们注重建筑的宏伟壮丽。在巴黎或在伦敦，人们想居住得温暖舒适。在马德里，人们拥有华丽而不带窗户的会客室，而他们的卧室却像是耗子洞。

在炎热的国家，食物更加充实也更加丰富——这是第三种差异，它对第二种差异不能不产生影响。在意大利，人们为何吃很多的蔬菜呢？因为人们认为蔬菜好，有营养，且味道极其可口。而在法国，人们觉得蔬菜除了含水份外什么都没有，根本就没有营养，在餐桌上算不了什么东西；即便如此，它们还是占用不少的土地，值得人们大量种植。试验表明，巴巴利的小麦除了不如法国的外，能产出很多面粉；反过来，法国的小麦比北欧的小麦产量高。由此可以得出这样的结论：沿赤道到地球极点的一条线可看出类似的等级划分。既然在同等数量的农产品中得到更少的食物，这岂不是一个实实在在的劣势吗？

我可能在所有这些思考中补充上另一点，这一点源自这些思考，并且对它们也有所加强，换句话说，炎热的国家比寒冷的国家需要更少的居民，而且可以养活更多的人——这会提供两倍有利于暴政的剩余物资。同样的人数占有的地域越广阔，叛乱就变得越困难，因为居民无法迅速秘密地集中起来，而政府总能轻而易举地看出他们的阴谋诡计，并且切断交通。另一方面，越多人挤在一块，政府就越不容易侵犯主权者；私人房间里的民众首领就像政务院里的君主一样在安全地商讨事务，而公共广场上的人群就像兵营里的部队一样迅速集合。因而，广袤的领土有利于残暴的政府运筹于千里之外。在作为杠杆支点的防守战略据点的援助下，根据杠杆作用的原则，其势力因距离而增加。【8】

恰恰相反，公民的力量只有当集中起来时才是有效的；当公民的力量分散时，它就灰飞烟灭，这正如撒在地上的火药只能一粒一粒地点燃。人口少的国家因而最适合暴政；野生动物只有在沙漠里才有优势可言。

第九章　论好政府的标志

因此，当问到在绝对条件下什么是最好的政府时，人们就等于在问一个无法回答的问题，因为这个问题是不确定的；或者我们还可以说有许多好答案，多得就像在公民的绝对地位与其相对地位中有种种可能存在的组合一样。

可是，如果问的是什么标志着人们能断定一个特定民族是治理得好还是坏，那就是另一码事了；作为一个实际的问题，这是可以回答的。

即便如此，它也并非真正得到解答，因为每个人都会以自己的方式来回答这个问题。臣民珍视公共的安宁；公民珍视个体的自由——前者更喜欢财产安全，而后者则更喜欢人身安全；臣民认为最好的政府最苛刻，而公民则认为最好的政府最温和；前者要惩罚犯罪，而后者则要避免犯罪；臣民认为让邻国惧怕是一件好事，而公民则宁愿被邻国忽视；只要货币流通，前者就满足，而后者则要求人们必须有面包吃。但是，纵然原来就有这方面的契约和诸如此类的问题，我们应该更进一步探讨吗？道德的尺度没有精确的衡量标准；纵然我们会承认标志，我们又该如何承认其价值呢？

对我自己来说，我总感到惊讶的是，人们该不会识别出如此简单的标志，或者该不会如此虚假得不接受像这样的标志。什么是一切政治团体的目标呢？这个目标就是保护其成员，让他们繁荣起来。什么又是他们被保护和得到繁荣的确切证据呢？那就是人口的数量。那么，必须要考虑比这个备受争议的证据以外的问题！由于所有其他东西都是平等的，所以要是没有像移民这样的外援，公民人数增加到最多的政府，必然是最好的政府。公民减少且未被充分利用的政府是最差的政府。统计学家们，这可是你们的问题了：请你们算一算、测一测、比一比吧。【9】

第十章　论政府的滥用职权及其衰退的趋势

就像特殊意志不断反对公意一样，政府也不断极力反对主权者。所做出的努力越加大，体制向坏处转变得就越多。由于在这种情况下，没有明显的团体的意志与君主意志相抗衡以使它们处于平衡状态，所以迟早君主意志必将不可避免地压制主权者，破坏社会公约。这是政府固有的、无法回避的缺陷，这一缺陷从政体诞生之日起就无情地趋于毁灭，就像老年与死亡必然摧毁一个人的身体一样。

政府衰退通常有两种状态——在其本身萎缩时以及在国家解体时。

当政府成员人数从较多变为较少时，即从民主制到贵族制时，或从贵族制到王室政府时，政府就萎缩。这是政府发展的自然趋势。【10】如果从较少到较多的方向发展，政府可以说就松散了；可是，这样一种逆向发展是不可能的。

的确是因为政府从未改变其形式，除非其消耗殆尽的能量太虚弱而无法保持原有的形式。假如政府在扩大时变得松散，其势力必然绝对毫无效力，甚至生存的可能也较小。因此，当政府开始松散时，必须收拢，紧缩结构，因为不这样的话，依赖于政府的国家将陷于毁灭的境地。

国家的解体可能以两种状态发生。

第一，当君主依法停止治理国家，篡夺主权者的权力时，国家便解体。政府便出现显著的变化，因为不是政府变萎缩，而是国家变萎缩——我所说的意思是，国家作为一个整体解体，并在其内部形成另一个国家，而另立的政府只由原政府成员组成，对主人下属和暴君之外的其余人毫无意义，其结果是，新政府一旦篡夺主权者的权力，社会公约便会遭到破坏。而依照权利恢复其自然自由的所有普通公民，便被强迫——不过不是道德上的强迫——顺从新政府。

当政府成员纷纷篡夺了只应作为政体来行使的权力时，同样的情形也会发生，因为这不亚于违反法律，而且还会产生更大的混乱。打个比方说，由于到那时有多得像行政官那样的君主，国家和政府一样处于四分五裂的状态，不是灭亡就是改变形式。

当国家解体时，政府便滥用权力，不论可能以什么样的形式，普遍会借无政府状态的名义。更准确地说，民主政治退化为暴民政治，贵族政治退化为寡头政治，而且我还得补充说，王室政治退化为暴政，不过最后这个词含糊不清，需要加以解释。

在通常理解的意思中，暴君就是凭借暴力而不讲正义和法律来治理国家的国王。在确切的意思中，暴君就是没有任何王室权利而将王室权力据为己有。因而这就是希腊人理解“暴君”一词的意思。他们不加选择地将其运用到好君主和坏君主身上，即便这些君主的权力是不合法的。【11】因而，暴君和篡权根本就是同义词。为了给不同的东西取不同的名字，我称王室权力篡夺者为“暴君”，称主权者权力篡夺者为“专制君主”。暴君是一个违法入侵却依法治国的人；而专制君主则是一个把自己凌驾于法律之上的人。因而，暴君不必是专制君主，而专制君主则永远是暴君。

第十一章　论政体的灭亡

制度健全的政府不可避免的趋势自然就是如此。如果斯巴达和古罗马都灭亡了，什么国家还能期望永世长存呢？那么，如果我们希望建立起一个永久的组织，那我们就别梦想让它永恒不朽。只有当我们避免尝试不可能的事，自己满足于为人类的工作付出超人的耐力时，我们就算成功了。

政体跟人的身体一样，一出生就开始趋于死亡，其内部有着自身毁灭的种种原因。任何一种身体都可能有或大或小强健的组织，这些组织适合于维持身体或长或短的生命。一个人的身体组织是自然的产物，而国家的组织则是人为的产物；要延长人自身的寿命，这并不在人的能力范围之内，而要尽可能通过给予国家可拥有的最好组织以延长其生命，这就在人的能力范围之内。虽然连最好的组织也会有生命的尽头，但是它还是比其他组织终结得更晚，除非一些预料不到的危险在其终结前降临。

政治生命的原则在于主权者的权力。立法权是国家的心脏，行政权是控制所有活动器官的头脑。这头脑可能会瘫痪，而个体却仍然活着。一个人可以愚钝地生存，可心脏一不起作用，人就会死亡。

国家能维持生存并不是借助法律，而是借助立法权。昨天的法律并不约束今天的行动。然而，我们可以把沉默当作默许，主权者采取的方法是，永远确认在其有权废除时而不废除的法律。主权者宣布过，成为其意志的一切始终都是意志——至少在主权者发布一道废除令之前，它们还是主权者的意志。

那么，为什么古代法律会博得那么多人的青睐呢？准确地说，是因为它们古老。我们应当相信，正是这种法律的卓越才使它们可以持续那么长时间；如果主权者一直都不认为它们是有益的话，它们肯定已经被废除过成百上千次了。这就是每个体制健全的国家法律完全不可能变得软弱无能、却不断获得新生力量的原因之所在；怀旧的偏见使它们日益倒退；另一方面，在那些情形中，法律随着时代的变化愈加软弱。这表明，要是不再有立法权，那么国家也将随之灭亡。

第十二章　论主权者权威如何维护

有立法权就没有其他权力的主权者，因而只能借助法律起作用。既然法律除了是公意的权威行为外其他什么都不是，主权者只能在公民集会时行使权力。把公民召集起来，可以说——简直就是幻想！这在今天确实是一个幻想；可在两千年前其实不然。人性会有如此大的变化吗？

道德王国可能存在的界线要比我们想象的狭窄；正是我们的弱点、恶习及其偏见才限制了界线的拓展。把思想作为基础吧，别相信伟人。低贱的奴隶嘲笑“自由”这个词。

根据我们的所做所为，让我们考虑一下什么可做。我不该谈及古希腊共和国；不过，在我看来古罗马共和国是一个大国，罗马城是一个大都市：最后一次人口普查给出的数据是，古罗马包括部队在内有四十万人口；最后一次人口普查计算结果是：在帝国管辖之下，不算臣民、外国人、妇女、儿童和奴隶在内，总共有四百多万公民。

人们总是认为，把首都及其周边大量的人经常集中起来必然是一件难事。其实，用不了几周时间就可以把古罗马人召集在一起，甚至一周还可以集中好几次。这个民族不但在行使主权，而且还在行使一部分政权。它涉猎某些事务，也在尝试着某些事情。在公众集会中，整个民族几乎就像公民一样常常扮演行政官的角色。

回顾各国最早的历史，我们注意到，大多数古代政府，甚至像马其顿和法兰克那样的君主政府，都有过类似的民众集会。不管怎样，一件不可争议的事实是，我已为我们的问题引用过答案；在我看来，从实际情况到可能存在的推理很符合逻辑。

第十三章　论主权者权威如何维护（续）

集会的人们一旦认可一套法律，也就确定了国家的体制，这是不够的；它应该创建一个永久性的政府，或者应该彻底为行政官的选举提供一个永久性的政府，这还是不够的。除预料不到的事情可能使特别集会变得必要外，还必须有固定的、周期性的、任何事都不可取消或中止的集会，以致于在指定日人们依法正当地被召集在一起，而无需履行任何正式的召集手续。

但是，除这些只按期合法集会外，任何公民集会，只要不按规定形式由职责在身的行政官召集，应该都是不合法的，其所做的一切都是无效的，因为集会命令本身应该合法下达。

至于合法的集会应该以怎样的频率举行，这取决于无法预先规定准确规则的许多情况。人们只能说，通常政府拥有的权力越大，主权者在集会上会面就越频繁。

有人会告诉我，这种集会可能对单个城市来说是有好处的，可如果国家有若干个城市，那又怎么办呢？主权者的权力要进行分割吗？或者主权者应该集中在某一个城市，像控制臣民一样控制其他人？我的回答是，这样那样的事都不该做。首先，主权者权力只是一个单一的单位；要是没被摧毁，它是无法分割的。其次，一个城市同一个国家一样，不能合法地屈从于另一个城市，因为政体的本质在于自由和服从相结合，这样，“臣民”与“主权者”这两个词才是同一相关的，它们的意思也就融汇在“公民”这个词当中。

我应当更进一步回答，要把一个国家中若干个城市联合起来，这始终不是件好事。不论谁希望形成这样的联盟，都不会让自己心满意足，因为自然的不利因素不可避免。一些只想要小国的人抱怨大国带来的祸害，这是没有用的。可是，怎样给予小国足够的力量以抵抗大国，就像我曾引证的希腊抵抗过大国王，以及前不久荷兰和瑞士抵抗过奥地利议院一样？

然而，假如国家无法被限定在合理的边境内，则仍然有药可治，那就是不要设固定的首都，不过要将政府所在地从一个地方迁移到另一个地方，并将国有财产轮流集中在一个地方。

让人口均匀地分布在国土上，赋予每个人相同的权利，并且给予每个住所以同样充裕的生活——正是用这些方法国家才会立刻变得无比强大，才可能治理得很好。请记住：城墙都只是用乡村房子的瓦砾来建造的。每当我在首都看到一幢在建的大楼，我心里都会想，我能看到整个农村遍地布满简陋的房屋。

第十四章　论主权者权威如何维护（再续）

人民作为主权者团体合法集会之时，政府的所有管辖权就不起作用；其行政权也就中断，而最卑贱公民中的代表人物，跟最高贵行政官中的代表人物一样神圣不可侵犯，因为在那些被代表人面前，再也没有什么代表性可言。大多数发生在古罗马各种集会上的种种骚乱，都是这条不是不为人所知、就是不为人所重视的法则造成的恶果。过去，执政官只不过是人民的首领罢了；护民官仅仅是代言人【12】而已；元老院就什么都不是了。

当君主认识到——或者应该认识到——谁更优越时，这种种权力的中断间歇都在警告君主；人民的集会是政体的盾牌和政府的制动器，并且一直是行政官的梦魇；所以，行政官不余遗力地提出异议、问题、许诺，使公民转而反对集会。在公民贪图钱财、胆怯懦弱时，在热爱休息胜过热爱自由时，他们对政府的百般努力做出让步。由于反对派势力不断增加，最终主权者的权威一落千丈而不复存在，大多数共和国也纷纷崩溃，并提前灭亡，事实就是这样。

但是，在主权者权威与专断政府之间，有时插入一种我们现在必须论及的中间力量。

第十五章　论议员或代表

公共服务一旦不成为公民关注的主要对象，并且他们逐渐更乐于以出钱而非出人的方式服务于国家，国家就已接近毁灭。军队需要参战吗？他们给雇佣兵报酬，自己却呆在家里。现在该是去参加集会的时候吗？他们给议员报酬，自己却呆在家里。由于懒惰和金钱，他们最终用士兵去敷衍国家，用议员去出卖国家。

正是商业和手工业的繁忙，正是唯利是图，也正是柔弱和贪图安逸，人们才用个人的服务交换金钱。人们放弃一部分利益以增加舒适的休闲时间。如此利用金钱吧！你很快就会为金钱所束缚。“钱财”这个词是奴隶的话语。它在真正的共和国鲜为人知。而在一个真正的自由国家，公民们则用自己的双手做每样东西，然而用金钱办事则一事无成；他们完全不是为了免除职责而付出金钱，而是为了亲自卸下责任而付出金钱。我远未达到分享各种公认的思想的境界：我相信，与其说义务服务违背自由，不如说税收违背自由。

国家创建得越好，公务越优先于公民心目中的私事。的确就没有什么私事了，因为整个公众幸福给予更大一部分人幸福，于是，留给个体追求的幸福便所剩无几了。在一个管理完善的国家，每个人都会赶去参加各种集会；而在一个管理不善的国家，没人愿意参加集会，就连一步也不想迈出门，因为人们感觉不到在那儿的所作所为带来最起码的利益，既然可以预料公意将不占优势，一言以蔽之，因为家务事吸引了所有个人的注意力。好的法律使人变得更好；而坏的法律则使人变得更坏。有人一说到国事——就说：“这关我什么事？”——到那时国家就算完了。

爱国心的冷却、私利活动频繁、国家的庞大、征服他人、滥用政权——所有这些都已暗示：在国家的各种集会中拥有人民议员或人民代表的好处。他们就是在某些国家公然称为的第三等级——列第一等级和第二等级的是私人利益，而列为第三等级的则是公共利益。

主权不能被代表，就像主权不能被转让一样；主权的本质是公意，而意志是不能由他人代表的——它不是公意就是另外一种东西；不存在中间的可能性。因而，人民议员不是也不可能是人民代表；他们只不过是议员而已；他们无法最终决定任何事。人民未亲自认可的一切法律都是无效的，根本就不算什么法律。英国人认为自己是自由的；他们是大错特错了；他们只在选举议会议员的时候是自由的；议员一选出来，人民就遭受奴役，什么也不是。在其自由的短暂时刻，英国人就是如此利用其值得失去的自由。

代表是一个近代的观念。它从封建政权——邪恶荒唐的体制，人类就是在这种体制下堕落，它玷污了人类的名声——来到我们身边。在共和国中，甚至在古代的君主制中，人民从来就没有什么代表；代表这个词过去并不为人所知。值得注意的是，在护民官原来很神圣的古罗马，没人能想象得到护民官居然会篡夺人民发挥作用的权力；在如此一大部分人当中，他们从来不想转让他们自己的权力——即一次公民投票权。然而，从格拉古时代所发生的一大部分公民站在屋顶上投票的情形中，人们就能判断出有时人群所引发的尴尬局面。

在权利和自由就是一切的地方，没有什么不便之处。在智者看来，每样东西都能被给予公正的衡量；扈从被允许做护民官所不曾敢做的事；公民并不害怕他们的扈从会希望代表他们。

即便如此，要解释护民官究竟如何代表人民，想一想政府是如何代表主权者就足够了。既然法律除了是公意的宣言之外什么都不是，显然，在立法权中就不可能有人民的代表；不过，在仅仅是行使法律工具的行政权中，可能有也应该有这样的代表。这表明，如果仔细观察的话，我们就能发现几乎没有什么国家拥有法律。不管那可能会是怎样，没有任何行政权的护民官，决不可能以自己的职权来代表罗马人民，而只能以篡夺元老院议员权力的方式来代表罗马人民，这是确信无疑的。

在希腊人当中，人民必须做的一切都由自己来做；人民连续不断地在市场集会。希腊人生活在温和的气候中；他们并非都是贪婪之辈；奴隶干活，其主要的关注点是其自由。没有同样的利益，同样的权利又怎么能维持呢？你们那更为严酷的气候使得你们需要更多的必需品；【13】一年中的六个月，公共场所无人居住；你们那发不出声音的舌头在露天下说话都无法让人听出来；比起你们的自由，你们更在乎自己的利益；你们不害怕奴隶制，而你们却更害怕贫穷。

什么？自由只有依靠奴隶制才能维持吗？或许吧。自由与奴隶制两个极端相互接触。自然以外的一切事物都有其不利之处，公民社会比所有其他的组织具有更多的不利因素。有一些如此不幸的情形，以致于人们只能以牺牲别人的自由为代价来维护自己的自由；只有当奴隶确实是奴隶时，公民才能完全自由。斯巴达的情况就是如此。你们是现代人，你们没有奴隶，可你们自身就是奴隶；你们用自己的自由为自身奴隶的自由买单。你们为这个优先权自吹自擂只能是徒劳无功；我从中看到的更多是懦弱，而不是仁慈。

我所说的这些并非想暗示奴隶的存在是必要的，或奴隶制的权利是合法的，因为我所证明过的与之恰恰相反。我只是想说明，相信自己是自由的现代人为何还要有代表、以及古代人为何不曾有代表的种种理由。不论会怎样，一个民族一旦接受了代表，它就不再自由了，再也生存不下去了。

纵观一切之后，我不明白，在像我们一样的人民当中，主权者今后怎么才能行使自己的权利，除非共和国非常小。可是，如果非常小，它就不会被征服吗？不！我在后面的文章中【14】会对此加以说明，大民族的防御力量怎样才能与小国的自由政权及其良好的秩序结合在一起。

第十六章　论政府的建制并不是一种契约

立法权一旦健全，它就得继续制定行政权，因为只由特殊行为操作的行政权与立法权迥然有异，并且自然分离。如果认为这样的主权者拥有行政权是可能的话，那么法律与事实将变得混淆起来，以致于人们再也不知道什么是法律、什么不是法律了；因而，误入歧途的政体很快就成了那种自生自灭的真正暴力的牺牲者。

公民按照社会契约一律平等，人人都可以规定自己所必须做的，而并非所有人都无权要求另一个人必须做他自己所不做的，因为正是这种赋予政体生命和运动不可或缺的权利，才被主权者赋予了正在创建政府中的君主。

一些理论家主张，建制这种行为是人民与其自身指派的行政官之间的一项契约，即一项双方之间规定一方施令而另一方服从的契约。我确信，应当承认的是，这是一种奇特的契约方式。但是，让我们看一看这种理论是否站得住脚吧。

第一，最高权威同其不可转让一样也是不可更改的；限制最高权威就等于破坏最高权威。主权者应该让自己高高在上，这是荒唐可笑、自相矛盾的。顺从主人就是回归到绝对自由。

此外，我们很清楚，人们与这样那样的人签订的契约总是一种特别行为。由此可见，这种契约不可能是法律，也不可能是一种主权行为，所以说它是不合法的。

我们还可看出，他们之间的契约签订方总是服从自然法则。于是，就不存在什么他们相互约束的保证——这与公民国家完全是对立的。既然大权在握的人做什么事都可随心所欲，这就像给一个人对另一个人说话的行为订立“契约”一样：“如果你把你喜欢的东西归还给我的话，我就把我所有的财产给你。”

国家只有一种契约：联合体本身的契约，这种契约把所有其他排除在外。人们无法想象有什么不违背原始契约的公共契约。

第十七章　论政府的建制

那么，我们应该用什么概念性的术语来思考建立政府所依据的法令呢？我得先解释一下，这种法令是复杂的，或由两方面构成的，即法令的制定与法令的执行。

首先，主权者规定必须有一个以这样那样的形式建立起来的政府主体；显然，这就是法令。

其次，人民任命行政官，行政官投身于如此建立起来的政府。既然人民的任命是一种特别的法令，它就不是第二法令，而只是第一法令和政府职能的结果。

令人费解的是，在政府存在之前怎么会存在政府法令，只是主权者或臣民的公民在某些情况下怎么会成为君主或行政官。

那么，正是又一次在此政体中才揭示出那些令人惊讶的特性之一，按照这一特性，政体调和似乎相互矛盾的行动，因为这种行动通过主权到民主的突然转变方式来完成，以致于没有发生任何明显的变化，并且只是通过一种整体与整体的新型关系，公民变成了行政官，而且经历了从一般行为到特别行为、从法令到执行的过程。

这种关系的变化不在于建立没有实践范例的投机性理论；这样的变化天天都在英国议会发生，下院在某些场合将自己转变为一个代表上、下议院的委员会，以便多多商讨事务，于是，下院就变成了主权者议院的一个简单委员会，这个委员会本身刚刚成立；那么后来它在自己下院的权力范围内，在刚定为上、下议院委员会的基础上由自己来作规划报告，并且以一个名义再次争论以另一个名义所决定的事项。

实际上，这种关系可以由公意的简单法令加以确立，这对民主政府特别有利。这之后，如果所采用的方式还是这样的话，或如果以主权者的名义确立法令规定的政府无论是什么的话，临时政府仍在执政；那么，一切都井然有序。想以任何其他合法的方式而又不放弃前面章节中业已建立的原则来创建政府，这是不可能的。

第十八章　论预防篡夺政府权力的手段

由那些已在第十六章证实过的种种解释可见，创建政府的法令不是一种契约，而是一种法律；行政权持有者并不是人民的主人，而是人民的办事员；人民可以随心所欲地任命和开除他们；不存在他们签订契约的问题，而存在服从契约的问题；在解除国家强加在他们身上的职务中，他们只是在履行作为公民无权争辩的职责。

因而，当人民恰好创建一个世袭政府时，无论是一个家族的君主制，还是公民阶层的贵族制，都不参与任何工作；世袭政府只是一种临时形式，这种形式是政府给予管理机构的，直到其按自己的意愿有区别地安排管理机构为止。

这样的变化总是有危险的，人们决不应该触犯一个已建立的政府，除非它变得与公共利益水火不容；不过，如此的慎重只是政治的箴言，而不是法律的规则；同国家没有必要把军事权交给将军一样，它也没必要把公民权交给行政官，这是千真万确的。

在这种种情况下，人们不能过于留心地观察所有这些形式，而要求人们正确区分合法的法令与煽动性的骚乱，区别全体人民的意志与一个派系的喧闹，这也是千真万确的。首先，人们必须避免屈从于社会上有害的主张，这更多的是通过严格执法要求他们。也正是从履行这一职责中，君主才得到把握权力对抗人民的大好机会，可又不能说他篡夺了人民的权力，因为当似乎只行使其权利时，对他来说，扩大那些权利，并且以公众安宁为托辞，阻止为重建良好政府而策划的种种集会都是轻而易举的。因而，君主利用阻止人们破坏的沉默，并利用使他们犯罪的无规律性，以期在有利于自己的情况下，承担对那些因害怕而一言不发的人默许的承诺，以此惩罚那些胆敢发言的人。正因为如此，最先选出任期一年、然后连任一年的古罗马十大行政官，试图以不再允许公民集会的方式永久地保留其权利。就是以这种简单的手段，世界上所有的政府一旦用民众的力量武装起来，迟早会篡夺主权者的权力。

我已说到的那些周期性集会——首先是那些不需要正式召集的集会——都是避免或延缓这种恶行的正确方法，因为到那时君主不公开宣布自己就是法律的违犯者和国家的敌人，就无法阻止他们的集会。

在这些唯一目的在于维护社会公约的集会开始的阶段，应该表达两个决不可取消且必须单独表决的提议。

第一个提议：“它期望主权者保持现有的政府形式？”

第二个提议：“它期望人民将管理机构留给那些负责管理的人？”

我此刻以为，我已经论证了我所相信的东西，即国家不存在任何不可废除的基本法，甚至也不存在不可废除的社会公约，因为如果所有公民聚集起来全体一致终止这条公约，人们不会怀疑它是被非常合法地终止的。格老秀斯的确认为，每个公民都可能放弃其公民资格，恢复其自然的自由及其从国家退出的财物。【15】假如所有联合起来的公民都不能做他们中每个人单独能做的事，这肯定是荒谬可笑的。

注　释

【1】因此，在威尼斯人们仍称大议会为最尊敬的君主，即使当大公不出席的时候。

【2】波兹南侯爵，即波兰国王的父亲，洛林公爵。

【3】“我愿自由而有危险,但不愿安宁而受奴役。”

【4】很显然，对古人来说“贵族”这个词并不是指最好，而是指最强。

【5】最为重要的是，必须用法律来规定行政官的选举方式；因为如果这是委托给君主的意志，那就不可避免地会沦为世袭贵族制，就像威尼斯共和国和伯尔尼共和国曾发生过的那样。威尼斯长期以来就是一个衰败的国家，而伯尔尼则仅由于其元老院极其英明才得以生存——这一规则无一例外是很荣耀的，可也是很危险的。

【6】马基雅维利是个绅士，也是个良好公民；可因为依附于梅狄奇家族，所以不得不在国人的压迫下把对自由的热爱伪装起来。他恰好选择了一位可恶的主人公，这就显示了他的秘密意图；而他的《君王论》一书的准则与他的《李维论》和《佛罗伦萨史》两书的准则之间相互对立，这种对立证明，这位深刻的政治思想家至今都只有一些肤浅的或曲解的读者。罗马教皇曾严禁这本书。我确信这一点，因为这本书描写得最直白的就是罗马宫廷。

【7】“因为辨别好坏最有效也是最简洁的方法，就是假如做国王的不是自己而是另一个人的话，想一想自己要什么，不要什么。”（见塔西佗《历史》，第一卷）

【8】这跟我在第二卷第九章论大国的劣势时所说的并不矛盾，因为前面我论述的是政府对其成员的权威，而这里的问题则是它对付臣民的势力。它分散各地的官员，就作为它从远距离给公民施压的许多支点，可它却没有如此给其官员施压的支点。因此，在一种情况下，杠杆过长便成了政府的软肋；而在另一种情况下，则又成了政府的力量。

【9】人们必须根据这同一条原则来判断，就人类繁荣而言值得我们赞许的世纪。对于所目睹的工艺品和文学的繁荣，我们赞美得太多了，而未深究这些文化隐藏的目的，也未考虑它们致命的后果：“愚人称之为人道的，其实那已是奴役的开始。”难道在书中的那些箴言背后，我们就看不出促使作者们说的那些原始的私利吗？不，无论他们说些什么，一个国家尽管灿烂辉煌，可只要其人口减少，就绝不会真的是一切都好。一个诗人年薪十万里弗，这不足以说明他所处的就是历史长河中最好的时代。应该少考虑表面的平静和统治者的安宁，而应该更多地关注整个民族的幸福，特别是那些人口最多国家的幸福。冰雹可能毁坏一些国家的行政区，却很少造成饥荒。骚动和内战可能大大引起统治者恐慌，它们却并非民族真正的不幸；当人们在争论谁将是下一个暴君期间，公民至少有数月休养生息的时间。他们的灾难和幸福都起于他们的持久状态。当大家仍处在枷锁的束缚时，一切都将衰败；只有在这时统治者才能任意摧残公民，当他们把国土沦为废墟时，他们会说和平到来了。当举国的争论搅动着法兰西王国时，当巴黎副主教怀揣匕首出席会议时，这并不妨碍法国公民在一种真正自由的安逸中享受幸福，生儿育女。古希腊是在最残酷的战争中达到繁盛的巅峰；虽然血流成河，可是整个国土上还是住满了人。马基雅维利说过：“看起来我们的共和国似乎就是在暗杀、流放与内战之中变得比以往任何时候都强大；公民的德行、道德与独立性，较之一切争端可能起到了削弱国家的作用，起到更有效地加强国家的作用。”一点点震荡倒会使人们的内在富有活力；而真正能使种族繁荣昌盛的不是和平，而是自由。

【10】威尼斯共和国在其环礁湖中缓慢形成与发展，提供了这个过程中一个值得注意的范例；1200多年之后，威尼斯人似乎仍处在1198年西拉尔·康塞里奥开始的第二个阶段，这真令人惊讶。至于人们所责难的那些古代大公们，无论《威尼斯自由论》这本书会怎么讲，可大公们原来不是他们的主权者，这一点有据可循。

会有人引用罗马共和国的例子来反驳我，说罗马共和国遵循了一个完全相反的时间顺序，它从君主制过渡到贵族制，再从贵族制过渡到民主制。可我却决不同意这种看法。

罗穆鲁斯最初创建的是一个混合政府，这个混合政府迅速退化为一个专制政体。由于特殊原因，这个国家过早夭折，就像人们有时看到婴儿在未成年以前就死去一样。驱逐塔尔干王朝之日正是共和国真正诞生之时。但是罗马共和国起初并非采取一种固定的形式，因为罗马人尚未废除贵族制，只是半途而废。因为在所有合法管理机构中最糟糕的世袭贵族制仍然与民主制相冲突，所以政府的形式总是变幻不定，直到设立保民官时才固定下来（正如马基雅维利证明过的一样）；只有到那时才有了真正的政府和真正的民主制；的确到那时公民不仅是主权者，而且还是行政官和法官；元老院不过是一个从属的执政议会，用以调和与集中政权，而执政官本身——尽管他们是贵族、首席行政官、战时的绝对指挥官——在罗马不过是公民的议长罢了。

从那时起，我们看得出来，罗马政府遵循其自然倾向并强烈地趋于贵族制。贵族制似乎是自我毁灭，贵族社会不再是处在贵族制的主体内，像是在威尼斯和热那亚一样，而是处在由贵族和平民所组成的元老院的主体内，甚至处在——当保民官开始篡夺主动权时——保民官的主体内，因为文字改变不了什么，而当公民有了代表他们治理国家的首领时，无论这些人有什么称号，这仍然是一个贵族制。

贵族制的滥用造成了内战与三人执政的局面。苏拉、尤利西斯·凯撒、奥古斯都实际上相当于君主；最后，在提贝留乌斯的专制下，国家终于解体。那么，罗马的历史不是与我的原则不相符，而是肯定了我的原则。

【11】“凡是在一个习惯于自由的城市里永远当权的人，就会被人称为或视为暴君。”（见科尔奈利乌斯·尼波斯的《密蒂阿德传》）真的，亚里士多德（见《尼各马可伦理学》第八卷第十章）区分过暴君与国王，暴君是为自己的利益而统治，国王则只是为臣民的利益而统治；然而，所有的希腊作家通常都在另一层意思上使用“暴君”这个词，尤其像色诺芬所写的《希罗》那样；此外，根据亚里士多德的这一准则：自从有了这个世界，还从未有过一个国王。

【12】这个词在此的用法有几分英国议会所具有的意思。纵然一切管辖权都已中止，这种职能之间的相似性还是会引起执政官与保民官之间的冲突。

【13】要在寒冷的国家接受东方人的奢侈与温柔，就等于想给自己戴上枷锁，也就等于比东方人更不可避免地向这两者屈服。

【14】这就是我在本书剩余部分所要做的事，在论述对外关系中，我将要涉及到邦联制的主题。这是一个全新的主题，其原则还有待确定。

【15】这可以理解为：没有人可能为逃避职责而离开自己的国家，或者当国家需要他时为避免拯救自己的国家而离开。在这种情况下，逃跑一定是犯罪，该受惩罚；逃跑不一定是撤退，而一定是潜逃。

第四卷

第一章　论公意是不可摧毁的

只要聚集在一起的几个人认为他们自己是一个单独的团体，他们就有了一个针对他们共同生存和一般幸福的意志。到那时，国家所有充满活力的力量都变得朝气蓬勃、单纯朴素；其原则也都变得清清楚楚；它就不存在不可兼容或相互冲突的利益；共同的利益使其自身变得如此显而易见，其结果是，只需要共同的感觉来辩明共同的利益。和平、统一和平等都成为政治老手的敌人。正直朴素的人正因为他们的质朴而不会轻易受骗；战略战术上的争论都不可能说服他们；他们确实并不渺小到足以成为傻瓜。当我们在世上最幸福的人中看到一帮帮农民在一棵橡树下关心着国家事务，总是明智地行动时，对千方百计使自身即刻变得显赫而可耻的他国的高雅行为，我们会情不自禁地有某种蔑视吗？

因而，被统治国近乎无需法律，无论何时需要公布新法律，这种需要一眼就看得出来。提出如此法律的第一人只是对每个人已感觉到的东西发出呼吁，而不存在这样的问题：把人人都已经决意要做的事情变成法律，这既不是阴谋也不是雄辩问题，只要他能肯定别人也会照他这样做就可以了。

使理论家们误入岐途的是，由于只看到一开始就创建十分不好的国家，所以不可能因为维护这样一个政体而对他们有所打击。他们嘲笑所有像聪明的流氓或狡猾的雄辩家能劝诱巴黎人或伦敦人犯罪这样的愚蠢思想。他们意识到，克伦威尔不会被伯尔尼人安排去做强制性的工作，波弗特公爵也不会被日内瓦人监禁起来。

然而，当社会的束缚开始松懈，而国家变得衰弱时，当特殊利益开始使自身被感觉到，而部分社会开始对更大的社会施加影响时，共同利益就变得腐败并且满足反对派的要求；投票就不再是一致通过了；公意不再是大家的意志；矛盾与争端就出现了；甚至最好的意见也不许毫无异议地盛行。

最后，当处在覆灭边缘的国家只能以空洞虚幻的方式维护自身时，当社会契约在每个人的心中被打破时，当最自私的利益鲁莽地炫耀公共利益神圣的名称时，公意保持沉默：在神秘动机的促使下，每个人作为公民再也不发表言论了，仿佛国家永不存在；公民在法律的伪装下做出使私利成其唯一目标的不公正规定。

由此可见，公意将废止或腐败吗？不，公意总是不变的、不易败的、纯洁的，不过，公意从属于比它优先的其他意志。每个人在将个人利益从公共利益分离出来时清楚地明白，他无法将两种利益彻底分离，但是，他分享的公共恶行对他来说，与他试图使个人利益变成独有的利益相比，似乎什么都不是了。哪里不涉及个人私利，哪里个人就会像任何其他人一样热切渴望个人利益中的公共利益。甚至在为了金钱而出卖其投票权中，他不是压制自身内在的公意，而是回避公意。他所犯的错误不但在于改变提问方式，而且还在于答非所问。于是，投票之后他说：“这样那样的提议都应该加以采纳，对任何一方都是有益的，”而不说：“它对国家是有益的。”由于这种原因，为规定合情合理的公众集会规则，成为一项并不太愿意支持公意的规则，以保证该规则总被人发问，并且总在对提问作出回答。

在此我可能多谈谈关于每个主权行为中简单的投票权问题，这是一项没有什么可以从公民身上剥夺掉的权利。我也可能多谈谈关于发言权、建议权、分裂权和争论权的问题——政府始终十分在意给予自己成员的权利——不过，这个重要的主题需要单独论述，可我又无法将一切都搁进这一主题中。

第二章　论投票权

显然，根据上一章所说，管理公共事务所使用的方式，给予政体的道德品质和健康状况以十分明确的说明。公众集会中盛行的协调性越大，换句话说，公众意见越接近一致，公意就越受到控制；而在另一方面，长期的争论、分歧和骚乱表明特殊利益的增加和国家利益的减少。

似乎更不明显的是，当国家组织有两种或若干种社会等级时——像古罗马有贵族也有平民一样——这些人的争论甚至在共和国鼎盛时期常常扰乱公民大会；可是，社会等级这种例外的情况比真实的情况更明显，因为在古罗马，由于政体与生俱来的缺陷，在演讲方式中原来就存在两种情形：两者都不真实就等于各自真实。的确，甚至在那最骚动的年代，当元老院不干涉时，公民中的平民总是平静地继续前行。绝大多数人都被赋予了投票权。公民只有一个利益；公民只有一个意志。

全体一致再次出现在循环的另一端——这就是沦落到奴隶状态的公民再也没有自由或意志的时候。那么，敬畏和奉承将投票变成了赞同票；公民已不是在商讨问题，而是在崇拜人或者在诅咒人。在君主的统治下，元老院用这种可耻的方式对其主张发出呼吁。有时，元老院这样对付过荒谬的警惕。塔西佗讲过：在奥索的统治下，元老以憎恨来掩护维特里乌斯，不过同时又小心翼翼地制造出一种震耳欲聋的响声，结果是，万一维特里乌斯偶然间成为主人，他也无法辨别出他们中每个人说过什么。

这些不同的思考向人们提出：应该安排计票，并对意见进行比较，这不但取决于公意被认知的难易程度，而且还取决于国家处在衰弱中的大小程度。

仅存在一种按照自然需要一致赞成的法律。这就是社会公约：因为公民联合是世界上最自愿的行为；每个人都是生来自由的，并且都是自己的主人，而再也没有什么人可以任何的借口未经其同意使其屈从。断言奴隶的儿子天生是奴隶就等于断言他并非天生是人。

那么，如果在社会公约制定时有反对意见的话，这一对立面并不会使契约作废；它只不过是排除反对派；反对派们在公民当中成了陌生人。在国家创建之后，所在地就意味着认同：居住在哪块领土上就等于屈服于哪个主权者。【1】

除了这种原始契约之外，大量的投票始终约束其余的人；这是契约本身产生的结果。然而，人们可能要问，一个人怎样才能马上成为自由人，而不用被迫遵从他人的意志。对立的少数人怎样才能做到既自由又服从于他们所不赞成的法律呢？

我的回答是，这个问题提得很糟糕。这就等于公民要赞成所有法律，甚至要赞成那些违背其意志而通过的法律，以及他要敢于违反其中任何一条就会受到惩罚的法律。国家所有公民赞成的意志就是公意；正是通过公意他们才成为公民，才变得自由。【2】当一条法律在公民大会上提出时，他们所问到的并非正好是他们批准还是拒绝的法律，而是这条法律与成为他们意志的公意是否一致；每个人都会通过投票就这一问题提出意见。票数的统计无不说明了公意。因此，当与我相反的意见占上风时，这仅仅表明，我犯了错误；我认为能成为公意的东西并非如此。如果我的特别看法有违公意而广为流行的话，我应该做了些我过去就希望做的事。那时我本不是一个自由人。

诚然，这预示公意的所有这些特征还将在多数人中找到；当这些特征不存在时，不管人们采取什么主张，就不再有什么自由可言了。

当本文前些章节表明特殊意志如何在公众商讨中逐渐取代公意时，我十分清楚地说明了什么可行的手段能够避免恶习。我下面将回到这一主题。至于需用来宣布公意投票比例数，我也已阐明该数量可加以确定所依据的种种原则。一票之差会破坏双方相等；一票反对也会破坏全体一致；可是，在全体一致与双方相等之间有许多数字不等的比例，而人们期望的比例可按条件并在政体需要时确定这些数字中的任何一个。

两条普遍的准则可适合确定这些比例：第一条准则是，要决定的事情越重要越严肃，盛行的意见应该越接近全体一致；第二条准则是，问题要求决断得越快，规定的多数许可变得越小；在必须立刻做出的决定中，人们中的多数必须得以满足。第一条准则似乎更适宜于法律的制定；第二条准则更适宜于管理事务的派遣。无论如何，正是通过这两条准则的结合，我们才能确定多数人的准确数目以解决任何问题。

第三章　论选举制

如我所述，君主和行政官的选举是一种纷繁复杂的活动，可以通过自愿或抽签两种方法进行筹备。这两种方法都曾在不同的共和国使用过，而其真正复杂的混和使用在威尼斯共和国执政者选举中仍可看到。孟德斯鸠说：“通过抽签选举对民主制来说是自然的。”这我同意。可为何选举会是如此呢？他继续说：“抽签是一种选举法，这种办法不伤害任何人，却给每个公民一个公道的报国希望。”不过，这些都不是充分的理由。

假如我们记得，行政官的选举是政府而不是主权的一项职能的话，我们就会明白，为何抽签法对民主制而言是自然的，由于在民主制中法令为数更少，所以管理机构在比例上都更为合理。

在每个真正的民主制中，行政官并不是一种特权，而是一副沉重的担子，以致于它不能公正地给这个人而不给那个人。惟独法律可以将这种担子强加给抽到签的人，因为在这种情况下，既然各种条件对大家都是平等的，选择又不取决于任何人的意志，所以法律的普遍性并不经过任何特别的适用而被扭曲。

在贵族制中，君主选择君主，政府靠自己的运作使自己永存不朽。那么，自愿的选举是合适的。

威尼斯共和国执政者选举的例子决不是破坏选举的差异性，而是对其有所加强：如此的混合形式适宜于混合政府。以为威尼斯共和国执政者是真正的贵族制，那就错了，因为威尼斯人没在政府中扮演角色时，威尼斯的高贵本身就在于一个民族。多数贫穷的巴纳比人从未接近过任何行政官，后者的高贵停留在阁下这空洞的头衔以及出席参议会的权利上。既然参议会像我们日内瓦的众议会一样多，所以其杰出的议员也并不比我们普通公民有更多的特权。因此，勿庸置疑，除两个共和国之间极度悬殊之外，日内瓦的资产阶级分子正好与威尼斯的贵族相符；我们本地人和居民相当于威尼斯的城市人和平民，而我们的农民就与大陆的臣民相一致；概而言之，除了威尼斯的面积大小之外，无论从什么观点来看这个共和国，它的政府跟我们的同样都不是贵族制。整个的区别在于我们没有掌管民生事务的首相。于是，我们同样不需要抽签选举法。

在真正的民主制中，抽签选举几乎没什么不利之处，因为当所有人在个性和才能上都平等，在原则和幸运上也都平等时，选举谁都没有什么关系了。不过，正如我曾说过，真正的民主制是生存不下去的。

自愿选举法和抽签选举法都加以使用时，选举应该用以填补需要特殊技能的位置，例如军事指挥，而对于需要常识、公正、正直品性的政治职位抽签就足够了，因为在一个体制健全的国家，这样的品性在所有的公民中都能找到。

在君主制的统治下，抽签选举和自愿选举都占有一席之地。既然君主按权利既是唯一的君主又是仅有的长官，其议员的选择都只属于他。当圣彼埃尔的神父建议增加法国国王的内阁阁臣，并通过投票选举成员时，他没有意识到他那时正在建议改变政权的形式。

我还想谈一谈投票和在公民大会中集中选票的方法，但是，或许对民主制来说，古罗马体制的历史更适合于我自己可能提出过的所有原则。比较仔细思考公众事务和个人事务在一个拥有二十万人的大会上如何进行，这对一个深思熟虑的读者来说并不在什么话下。

第四章　论古罗马公民大会

我们没有可信赖的古罗马早期历史记载，而大多数我们听说的故事可能都是传说。【3】的确，一般地说，各民族编年史大多有教育意义的部分都是他们的政体创建史，这是我们最缺少的部分。经验每天都在告诉我们帝国大变革的种种原因，可是，由于现在不再创建民族，所以我们就没有什么比推测更好的东西用来解释它们曾经是怎么创建的。

我们发现，已建立的惯例起码可以表明：这样的惯例必然有其源头。追溯这些源头的传统得到最权威的支持，并得到最理性的认可，这些传统应该最大程度上传递某种信息。在考问世上最自由最强大的人如何行使最高权力时，我试图遵循的原则就是如此。

古罗马创建之后，新生的共和国——即由奥尔本人、萨宾人和异乡人组成的建国者军队——分为三种人，因为这种区分,所以它们的名字就叫作部族。其中每一个部族进一步分为十个库里亚，每一个库里亚细分为若干德库里亚，它们的首领分别叫库里昂和德库里昂。

此外，从每个部族征集一支由一百个特权市民或骑士组成的团体，称为百人团。这表明，这些在城市几乎不必要的分类首先纯粹是军事上的。不过，似乎一种最大的本能引领古罗马小城用完全适合世界之都的体制开始自给自足。

然而，这种原始分类很快就产生不利的后果。奥尔本人和萨宾人的部族依然如故，而异乡人的部族则像更多异乡人招兵买马一样不断增长，不久它容纳的成员比其他两个部族合在一起的成员还要多。毛鲁斯找到纠正这个致命错误的良方是改变分类的依据。他引进了一种分类法，它以那三个部族中的一个所占据的城市行政区为基础，用来代替他所消除的部族差异。他将原来的三个部族分为四个部族，各自占领罗马的一个山岗，各取其名。因而，他既纠正了现存的不平等，又预防将来的不平等；为确保这种分类会是按人而不是按区进行，他禁止一个行政区的居民搬到另一个行政区，于是避免了不同部族的融合。

他还把自古以来的三个骑兵百人团增加了一倍，再加上十二个新成员，不过保留原有的名称；这是一种精明简单的手段，他用这种手段成功地将骑士主体与公民主体区分开来，而不使后者抱怨。

在这四个城市部族的基础上，毛鲁斯又增加了十五种乡村部族，因为它们都是由乡村居民构成，按许多国家行政区来排列。然后，由于许多新部族的建立，所以古罗马人发觉自身分类达到三十五个部族，这一数目直到共和国寿终正寝为止都没有改变过。

城市部族与乡村部族之间的区别之所以存在一个值得注意的现象，是因为没有关于它的其他实例，也是因为古罗马对此心存感激既出于道德的维护，又出于帝国的发展。可有人认为，城市部族肯定很快将权力和荣誉垄断，并且迅速缩小乡村部族的地盘。所发生的事情却恰恰相反。早期古罗马人乡村生活品味众所周知。这种品位源自他们智慧的创立者，这位创立者将自由结合到乡村劳动和兵役之中；在某种意义上说，他还将手工业、贸易、复杂的事务、财产和奴隶制转移到城市。

既然所有声名显赫的罗马人都居住在乡村耕田种地，把乡村看作共和国中流砥柱的观点变得司空见惯。由于这种生活方式原是大多数贵族的生活方式，它便得到大家的青睐；乡下人朴素的劳动生活比古罗马资产阶级分子宽松空闲的生活来得优越。一个除了是城里可怜的无产者外什么都不是的人，变成了一个像土地耕耘者那样受人尊重的公民。瓦戎说过，我们宽宏大量的祖先在乡村建立起那些强健者和勇敢者的托儿所，后者在战争期间保卫他们，在和平时期滋养他们，这是不无道理的。普林尼断然声明，乡村部族因为那些依附的人而受到尊敬；无论何时打算使胆怯者堕落，胆怯者就会被丢失脸面地转让给某一个城市部族。当萨宾人阿皮乌斯·克劳底乌斯在罗马逐渐身居要职时，他不断博得赞誉，并作为乡村部族的一员为后人所铭记，这个乡村部族后来采用了他家族的名字。最后，所有被释放的人加入城市部族，而绝非加入乡村部族。共和国上下没有一个例子能说明，被释放者中有一个人出任过什么行政官，即便他已经成了公民。

这种原则本来是很好的，但它被推行得太过火，最终发生了变化，必然在政体中被滥用。

首先，监察官将公民从一个部族转换到另一个部族的仲裁权长期占为己有，容许大多数人成为其所挑选的部族一员，这一让步肯定没有什么好处，它使审查制度丧失了其极大利益之一。况且，大权在握的高贵者都让他们自己成为乡村部族的一员，而被释放者却仍与普通人一起留在城市部族中，其结果是，这些部族通常没有了地方或领地基础，大家混杂在一起，人们不查登记表再也不可能确定任何人的身份。这就是为什么部族这个词逐渐有了个人的而非地域的含义，更准确地说，逐渐变得徒有虚名。

还发生过这样的事：更接近市中心的城市部族时常发现他们自己在公民大会中成为最强大的团体，并且非常屈尊地将国家出卖，以博得大会的乌合之众的投票。

至于库里亚，由于创立者早己在每个部族中成立了十个部族，那时封闭在城墙内的全体古罗马人由三十个库里亚组成，每个库里亚都有自己的神殿、自己的神、自己的官员、自己的神甫以及自己的各种节日，这些节日称为大路节，类似后来乡村部族举办的乡村节。

当毛鲁斯引入他的新分类法时，他的四个部族无法平分为三十个，同时他也并不希望改变新的分类法；结果是，变得独立于部族的库里亚在罗马另立一类居民。不过，在乡村部族或属于部族的人当中不存在有关库里亚的问题，因为在部族成为纯粹的公民管理机构，新的征兵体制引入之后，罗穆卢斯的军事机构已被证实是多余的。因而，虽然每个公民都成为某一部族的成员，不是库里亚人的并不多。

毛鲁斯还做了与前两种毫无关系的第三种分类，这种分类从其结果看是三者中最重要的。他将整个罗马人分成六类，既不以人也不以其住处，而是以财富分类；其结果是，第一类挤满了富人；最后一类净是穷人；中间一类为中等财富的人。这六大类细分为193个团体，称为百人团。这些团体如此分类造成第一类占一半多的细分类，而最后一类却只有一个百人团。因而就发生人数最少的那一类拥有最多的百人团，而最后一类只作一个百人团的细分类来算，尽管它容纳罗马半数以上的居民。

为了人们更少地去充分感知这种分类的后果，毛鲁斯以军事形式掩饰它；他将两千军械士放进第二类，两千武器制造者放进第四类。在除最后一类的其他每个类别中，他在老少之间做划分，换句话说，划分负有扛枪责任的那些人与以年龄为由合法免除扛枪的那些人；这种比财富的区分更大的划分，使得有必要进行经常性的人口统计。最后，他规定集会应在玛尔斯教场上举行；所有那些兵役适龄者都应扛着武器参加集会。

他在最后一类老少之间不做同样区分的理由只是，属于这一类的普通人在为国效劳中不享受扛枪的荣誉；只拥有家庭生活的那些人有权保卫它们。在点缀当时国王军队的无数乞丐军团中，在士兵成为自由保卫者的那个年代，大概没有一个人不被蔑视地逐出古罗马军团。

然而，在最后一类中，他在无产者与那些被称作按人头计数的人之间做出区分。前者并非完全一无所有，他们至少给国家增添了公民，甚至往往在万分急需时给国家输送士兵。但是，那些一无所有并且只能当人头算的人不被视为存在的人，而马留乌斯是第一个屈尊招收他们的人。

在此不决定这第三种分类实际上是好是坏，我想，人们确实会说：它之所以是可行的，正是因为早期古罗马人简朴的习惯、对农业的感受、似乎对商业的蔑视以及对利益的追逐。现代民族贪得无厌，人心不安，耍弄阴谋，不断迁移，经常玩转财富，有哪个民族能够让这一体制持续二十年而未颠覆整个国家呢？还得记住的是：古罗马人的道德审查机构有力地纠正了这种体制的弊端；富人会发现自己因为太炫富而被转到穷人那一类。

从这一切不难理解，为何人们几乎只提到五种古罗马人的分类，虽然实际上有六类。第六类既不为军队输送士兵，也不为玛尔斯教场【4】提供选举人，因此事实上在共和国中不起作用，这样人们也就很少去考虑它了。

古罗马人的不同分类就是如此。让我们来关心一下这些类别在各种集会中所产生的影响。那些合法召集的集会称作公民大会，它们通常在古罗马公共会场或玛尔斯教场上举行，根据所采用的形式，它们分别称作库里亚大会、百人团大会和部族大会。库里亚大会和百人团大会分别由罗穆卢斯和毛鲁斯创立；部族大会则由民众领袖发明。若不是在公民大会上，法律就得不到通过，而且行政官就得不到选举。由于公民无不成为库里亚、百人团和部族的成员，所以由此可见，没有哪个公民被拒绝拥有投票权，古罗马人不但在法律上而且在事实上都是真正的主权者。

至于合法召集的公民大会及其有法律约束力的决策，人们必须看到三个条件：第一，召集集会的主体或行政官必须被授予必要的权力；第二，集会必须在法律许可的某一天举行；第三，占卜必须顺利。

其中第一个条件的理由无需解释。第二个条件是政策方面的事，集会之所以不允许在假日或集市日进行，是因为来罗马办事的乡村人白天没时间参加集会。第三个条件使得元老院可将一个傲慢而不安的民族遏制在手中，调节煽风点火的护民官之热情——尽管后者发现逃避审查的方式不止一种。

规则和首领的选举并非只是服从公民大会的裁决。既然古罗马人已篡夺了政府大多数重要职能部门的权力，人们可以说欧洲的命运就在那些集会上决定。公共事务的多样性说明公民大会根据必须决定的事务采用过的若干方式。

为了判断这些不同的方式，有必要将它们做一番比较。在建立库里亚的过程中，罗穆卢斯旨在使元老院处于平衡状态以防备公民，同时使公民处于平衡状态以防备元老院，而他本人好像控制着这两类人。在这样的精心筹划下，他赋予多数人一切的权力，以便平衡权力和他留给贵族的财富。不过，按照君主制的精神，他仍然给贵族带来极大的利益，因为他们可以雇用议员以对大多数人产生影响。这种妙不可言的庇护人制度和议员制度是政治家的杰作，没有了这一杰作，与共和国精神如此对立的贵族就无法生存。给予世界以这一崇高范例的荣誉当属古罗马人；这一范例从未被人滥用过，却也从未在其他地方被人仿效过。

库里亚的这种方式在历代国王的统治下延续到毛鲁斯。由于塔垦士最后的统治并不被认为是合法的，王室法令通常以库里亚法为人所知。

在共和国中，库里亚仍然限制在那四类城市部族范围内，并且仍然只包括罗马人，它既不取悦领导贵族的元老院，也不取悦领导较富有公民的护民官，尽管护民官是平民。因而，库里亚陷入了不被信任的尴尬境地，其实陷得不是那么深，以致于他们的三十个扈从去应付公民大会早该做的事。

百人团的分类对贵族制极为有利，因而最初不易看出，为何元老院始终不能在以百人团命名的公民大会中占优势，而审议会、监察官和其他行政官却借此名义当选。的确，在构成全体罗马人六个类别的193个百人团中，第一分类有98个百人团；既然投票只有百人团的算数，第一类别就比所有其他类别占了大多数。当所有这些百人团抱成一团时，剩余的投票甚至都不用计算了。已经由少数人决定的东西被看作多数人的决定；于是可以说，在百人团大会中，事事都由金钱多少来决定，而不由选票多少来决定。

可是，这种过多的权力在两个方面得到调节。第一，护民官通常在富人那一类，而大多数平民总是在有富人的一类，护民官和平民抑制了贵族在第一类中的影响。

第二，百人团并不总是召集起来按顺序或按等级投票，顺序或等级意味着投票从第一类别开始；而百人团是通过抽签选择的。【5】一个百人团进行选举，之后其他百人团按等级的顺序在不同的日子被召集起来重复该项选举。通常百人团都认可这种做法。因而，范例的权威根据民主制的原则由类别让给了机遇。

这种惯例还有另一个好处；它意味着来自乡村的居民在数次选举之间，有时间亲自了解暂时提名的候选人的优点，因而就不会在无知中投票。但是，在加快投票程序的籍口下，这一惯例最终被废除了。两次选举在同一天进行。

严格地说，部族大会才是古罗马人的议会。它只能由护民官召集，是选举护民官的集会。不但元老院在大会中没有地位，而且议员甚至无权参加。因而议员们被迫屈服于在他们没有发言权的情况下制定的法规，在那种程度上他们还不如最卑贱的公民来得自由。这种不公平完全是一种病态的构想，足以使主体的规定无效，结果是其成员不被接纳。假如所有贵族都出席议会的话，根据他们作为公民的权利，作为单纯的个体，他们对按人计数的投票不会产生巨大影响，因为在这里最卑贱的无产者与首席元老一样。

因而人们会明白，除收集那么多人投票的不同方法中出现的顺序之外，这几种方法本身并非微不足道；不过人们还会明白，每一种方法都会产生各种影响，这些影响与导致其被选的意见相关联。

我不想再深究细节，从已给的解释中显示出来的是，部族大会最有利于人民的政府；百人团大会最有利于贵族制。在库里亚大会中，古罗马平民只构成大多数，他们有利于暴政的倾向以及导致他们落下坏名声的坏计划，以致于甚至那些煽风点火的议员都回避这些大会，免得他们的出席会让人怀疑有所图谋。毫无疑问，古罗马人的尊严只有在百人团大会上才能显示得淋漓尽致；库里亚大会只是一种充分的集会，因为它把乡村部族排除在外；部族大会却拒元老院和贵族于门外。

古罗马人所使用的投票制就像他们的举止和道德一样简单，但好像不如斯巴达人简单。每个人以口头表决的方式投票，然后由一个书记员将票数记下来；在每个部族中，大多数的个人投票决定那个部族的决策，大多数的部族选票确定那个民族的决策；库里亚和百人团也是如此。只要诚实在公民中盛行，只要每个人耻于在大庭广众面前以不公正的理由或为一个不足道的候选人投票，这种投票方式不失为一种好办法。可是，当人们变得腐败并且贿赂选票时，这一口头投票方式就成了秘密掷票式投票的权宜之计，这样就能够用不信任来制止贿选者，并且也可以给那些流氓无赖们提供一种不至于沦为卖国贼的办法。

我意识到，西塞罗谴责这种方式的改变，他认为这种改变得为共和国的衰败承担部分责任。不过，当留意一下西塞罗本应承担的压力时，我不同意他的看法。相反，我认为正是几乎没有做如此的改变，才加速了国家的衰败。因为正像健康者的食物不合适给病人吃一样，所以人们不该试图利用适用于善良人民的法律来管理腐化的人民。没有什么会比威尼斯共和国的经久不衰更能证实这一原理了，这一政体仍旧保留着威尼斯共和国的影子，就是因为威尼斯的法律仅适用于坏人。

现在罗马公民在他们当中分发牌子，这样每个人可以在别人不知其意见时投票。罗马人还为收牌、计票、监表等做出新的安排。这并没有妨碍人们怀疑委以职责的官员不诚实。最后，设计好的布告大量散发，以防密谋和买卖选票，结果其数目之多说明了新方法毫无效率。

在共和国的最后几年，古罗马人常常被迫求助于特别的权宜之计以弥补法令的不足。人们往往祈求奇迹发生。可如果这种手段可以强加给公民的话，它就不会吓坏他们的统治者。有时在候选人有时间行贿之前，大会仓促召集；有时当看出人们已被引诱并即将做出一个错误的决策时，整个会议中止以阻碍议案通过。但是，雄心壮志终于克服了一切障碍；在所有的事实中最令人难以置信的是：在一片谩骂声中，多亏古老的次序法则，那么多的人仍继续选举行政官，制定法律，判决案件，经营私事，管理公务——公共事务拥有的设施跟元老院本身可能掌握的几乎一样多。

第五章　论保民官制

当不可能在国体的不同部分之间做精确的平衡时，或者当无法控制的因素继续改变它们之间的关系时，那么，就得设特别的行政官，以推动每个成分处于准确的平衡状态，并且不是在君主与人民之间就是在君主与主权者之间，如果有必要的话，同时在这两种情况之间起到联系或从中协调的作用。

我称之为保民官的这个主体，是法律和立法权的监护人。它有时起保护主权者以对抗政府的作用，就像护民官在罗马所起的作用一样；有时支持政府以对抗人民，就像现今十人会议在威尼斯所做的一样；有时在二者之间维持一种平衡，就像斯巴达的监察官所做的一样。

保民官制并不是共和国体制的一部分，它既不该分享立法权，也不该分享行政权，可正是由于这种原因，保民官制自身的权力才达到最大的极限，因为虽然它自身无所作为，但是它可以阻止他人作为。作为法律的保卫者，它比行使法律的君主或比立法的主权者更加神圣、更加令人崇拜。这一点十分清楚地体现在罗马的情形中，在罗马，傲慢的贵族总鄙视所有人民，却不得不在行使既不神圣也不合法权力的普通人民官员面前点头哈腰。

保民官假如控制得高明，是一个良好国体强有力的支柱，但是如果拥有超过所必要的最底限度的权力，它将颠覆一切。它本性上并不趋于衰弱。如果它什么都是的话，它该怎么样就会怎么样。

当保民官制取代了只是缓和剂的执法权时，当保民官制试图制定只应该保护的法律时，它就会退化为暴政。只要斯巴达维持其道德，监察官的巨大权力就不代表危险；一旦腐败开始出现，它就会促进腐败。暴君们流出的阿吉斯之血是其继任者报仇的结果；犯罪与对监察官的种种惩罚同样加速了共和国的崩溃。克利蒙特之后的斯巴达就算不了什么东西了。古罗马以同样的方式灭亡。保民官们所篡夺的过多权力，在为维护自由而制定的法律援助下，最后逐渐适合于保护那些真正毁掉自由的君主。至于威尼斯的十人会议，它是一个血腥的法庭，这种法庭对贵族和人民同样有害；它决不是给予现已降格的法律以最高的保护，而只是为还击没人敢面对的突然打击而服务。

像政府那样，保民官制随其成员的增加而受到削弱。当古罗马人的保民官——原来两个，后来增加到五个——试图再增加一倍时，元老院同意了，并自信可以利用一方控制另一方，这一招果然奏效。

阻止这样一个可怕主体篡权的最好方法——尽管它是任何政府从未使用过的方法——决不会使保民官制持久，却规定了其应仍处于暂停期的时间间隔。这些时间间隔，不该像给予种种谩骂滋生的时间间隔一样长，可在某种意义上——万一需要，它们可能被特别的职权所缩短——通过法律加以规定。

这种方法对我来说似乎存在什么缺点，因为既然保民官制如我所述决不是国体的一部分，可以删掉也毫无害处；既然一个刚上任的行政官不愿用前任所拥有的权力来执政，而只愿意用法律所赋予他的权力来执政，这种方法依我看来似乎是一种灵验的方法。

第六章　论独裁制

法律的不变性妨碍法律适应于环境，在某种情况下可能使法律变得腐败，在紧要关头还会导致国家的覆灭。法律形式循序渐进的过程需要一台环境所无法提供的计时器。可能会有许多事律师预见不到，而明白人们无法预知一切的道理却是深谋远虑必不可少的一部分。

由于这种原因，人们不应试图使政治制度变得如此僵化，以致于人们丧失中止政治制度实施的权力。即便是斯巴达有时也会让其法律处于休眠的状态。

然而，唯有最大的危险才值得去冒变更公共秩序的危险；法律神圣的权力决不应该被中止，除非当祖国安全处在危难之中。在这些极为罕见却显而易见的情况下，一道特别的法令会提供公共安全，它使得安全成为最杰出人物的职责。这种职责可以根据紧急事件的性质以两种方式来分配。

如果政府增加活动足以排除危险，那么这种活动应该集中在政府的一两个官员手中。在这种情况下，它并不是在减小的法律权威，而只是一种行政方式。可如果危险达到法律机器本身成为安全障碍的程度，那么就必须任命最高首领，赋予其压制一切的法律权力，以及暂时中止主权者的权力。在这种情况下，公意就不容置疑，因为很显然，人们主要关注的是国家的生死存亡。因而，中止立法权并非废止立法权；压制立法权的行政官不能成为立法权的代言人；他控制立法权，而不具有代表立法权的权力。除了立法外，他可以无所不为。

在根据一项神圣法则将共和国安全委托给两个执政官时，古罗马元老院使用这两种方法中的第一种；在这两个执政官之一提名一个独裁者时——古罗马已从阿尔巴那学会的手段，第二种方法得以使用。【6】

在共和国初期，古罗马人常常采用独裁的手段，因为国家以其国体力量维护自身的各种状况尚未充分确定。人们的道德品质使得在其他时期可能需要的许多防范，在那个时期并不需要，于是人们不必担忧独裁者会滥用职权，也不担忧他会企图超限延长执政时间。相反，看来如此多的权力对那些行使权力的人来说倒是一个负担，因为他们急急忙忙想使自己摆脱这一负担，仿佛坐在法律这个位置上使这一负担成了一项极其沉重极其危险的职责。

所以，这并不是因为存在权力被滥用的一种危险，而是因为存在权力受到关注的危险，人们谴责轻率雇用共和国早期的这个最高行政官。由于当权力在选举、奉献以及纯粹形式的事情中被浪费时，人们有理由担心：当确实需要权力时，权力会变得更加软弱无力；人们会逐渐把独裁视为一种只用来给种种毫无用处的仪式冠以尊严而空洞的称号。

到共和国晚期，变得更加慎重的古罗马人在行使独裁政权的过程中变得十分吝啬，就像他们曾经几乎不需要什么理由奢侈一样。不难看出：他们的担忧没有确实的根据；首都的软弱那时成了一种自我保护，以对抗被迫夹在当中的行政官；独裁者在某种情况下可以保护公众自由，而决不可侵犯它；古罗马的羁绊在罗马，而不在古罗马军队曾被人遗忘；毛鲁斯无力抵抗苏拉和庞培·凯撒这件事清楚地表明，内部的权力在面临外部的力量时人们所能期待的后果。

这一过失导致古罗马人犯下极大的错误。例如，喀提林事件中留下了任命独裁者的败笔，因为既然这是一件只关系城市本身或者顶多是意大利省份的事，法律赋予独裁者的无限权力必将助长了人们准备粉碎的那场阴谋，其实那场阴谋只被一连串侥幸的意外事件遏止了，就像人类的节俭从不用人们去期待一样。

元老院十分满意地将其所有权力交给执政官，而不去任命独裁者，这是由于西塞罗为有效行动迫不得以在关键时刻超越权限。然而，在最初的狂喜中，古罗马人赞成他的举动，正是拥有了正义，后来他才被请去解释在违犯法律中公民的流血事件——这是一种不可能向独裁者提出的指责。不过，雄辩的执政官在他面前兜揽了一切。他本人尽管是一个古罗马人，可是他爱自己的荣耀胜过爱自己的国家；他企图在国务中为自己获得一切荣誉，而不去寻求一种报国的必然合法手段。【7】因而，他被公正地誉为罗马的解放者，也作为古罗马法律的违犯者受到了应有的惩罚。不管来自流放的记忆可能多么美好，毫无疑问，这就是一种宽恕的举动。

此外，这个重要委员会无论以什么方式被授予独裁政权，将其任期限制在一个不能延长的短期内，是绝对必要的；在需要建制的紧急情况下，国家很快要么失败要么得以解救。一旦这种急需没有了，独裁不是变成暴政就是变得一文不值。在古罗马，这个期限是六个月，大多数独裁者在期满之前辞职。假设这个期限延长的话，他们可能做出调整以进一步延长期限，就像任期一年的古罗马十大行政官那样。独裁者只有时间满足他被选为独裁者的需要，而没有时间考虑更长远的计划。

第七章　论监察官制

正如公意通过法律途径加以宣布一样，公众的意见是由监察官制加以体现的；公众的意见是一种法律形式，而监察官就是这种法律的执行者，按照君主的模式只将这种法律应用在特殊情况中。

那么，监察官制决不是公众意见的仲裁人，它只是代言人；一旦脱离了这一点，其种种决策就空洞无效。

将民族的道德与尊重的对象分隔开来是徒劳无益的，因为两者都源自同样的原理，有必要共同出现。在世上一切人当中，不是自然而是意见才决定他们对快乐的选择。改变人的看法吧！这样他们自身道德将得以净化。人们总是喜爱好东西或他们所认为的好东西，然而，正是在判断中他们才犯下错误；由此，正是他们的判断才应该加以调整。判断道德就是判断所给以荣誉的东西；判断所给以荣誉的东西就是把意见当作法律来看待。

一个民族的种种意见都来自其国体；尽管法律并不规定道德，然而正是立法才产生道德；当立法削弱时，道德就堕落；然后，监察官的裁决势必完成不了法律尚未完成的任务。

由此可见，在维护道德方面监察官制可能有所作为，但是在恢复道德方面绝对无能为力。当法律仍然充满活力时，建立起监察官制吧，因为活力一旦失去，一切就都无所指望；法律一旦不再具有力量，任何合法的东西也就不具有力量了。

通过防止各种意见遭到恶化，通过维持它们与英明裁决的结合，有时甚至通过决定无常的意见所依据的要点，监察官制以此来维护道德。决斗中助手的使用在法兰西王国被提升到热情洋溢的高度，却废止于国王的一道敕令：“至于那些胆怯到要找助手的人。”这个意见预见到公众意见，国王大笔一挥便了结此事。可当同样的敕令试图表明对抗决斗也是胆怯时——这千真万确，可在与大众意见发生分歧时——大众就会嘲笑对这件事的决策，因为他们已经形成对这件事的判断。

我在其他地方说过，既然公众意见并不屈从于强制力，在已建立起的代表自身的监察官制中就不该留下强制的痕迹。我们不能过分赞赏这种完全不同于现代手段所使用的技巧，古罗马人应用过这种手段，斯巴达人应用得甚至更好。

一旦性格不好的人在斯巴达内阁会议上提出一个很好的想法，对他不屑一顾的监督官却让一个善良的公民提出同样的想法。这对后者来说是怎样的荣誉，而对前者来说却是怎样的耻辱啊；然而，这二者既没受到表扬，也没受到责备。来自萨摩斯岛的某个醉鬼曾经弄脏监察官的席位；次日公共布告允许萨摩斯岛居民今后的肮脏行为。这种惩罚，要比真正的惩罚更为严厉。当斯巴达宣布什么是体面的和什么是不体面的时，希腊对其判断不予争辩。

第八章　论公民宗教

原始时期人们没有国王，却有神。他们唯一的政权就是神权。他们像卡力古拉那样推理，既然是这样，他们就能正确地推理。在一个人决定接受一个自己同类的人作为主人，并说服自己在做此决定中做得完美无暇之前，需要有一个延长时期来改变其感觉，修正其观念。

由神被置于每个政治社会之首这一事实可见，过去神跟民族一样多。两个互相疏远、几乎总是敌对的民族，不可能长期认同同一个主人：两支参战的军队不可能服从同一个指挥官。因而，民族的分裂产生了多神教，这反过来便产生了宗教和公民的不宽容，而这些不宽容必然是相同的，正如我下面将解释到的那样。

古希腊人富于幻想——他们已找到自己的神，诸神受到野蛮人的崇拜——源于希腊人的习惯，他们把自己看作那些相同民族的自然主权者。可在我们这个时代，研究不同民族神的身份这门学问却被混为一谈，这就像一首滑稽的打油诗：仿佛闪米族神、农神和克罗诺可以是相同的神；仿佛腓尼基人的邪神、希腊人的宙斯和古罗马人的朱庇特可以是同一个神；仿佛在不同名称的幻想生命之间可以存在共有的神！

可是，如果有人问，当每个国家有自己的宗教礼拜和自己的神时，为何在信奉异教的情况下没有宗教战争。那么我的回答是：这是由于这样一个真实的情况——每个拥有自己的信仰和自己的政权的国家，并不区分自己的神和法律。政治战争就像许多神学战争一样。比如，神的职权原来由不同民族的边界所决定。一个民族的神无权超越其他民族的神。异教徒的神决不是嫉妒之神；它们划分它们之间的世界帝国；甚至摩西人和希伯莱人有时以论及以色列的神来支持这个观念。诚然，他们没有认识到迦南人的神，迦南人是一个受排斥的民族，注定要毁灭，而他们却要占领迦南人的国家。但是，想一想他们是怎样谈论邻国民族的神性，又被阻止去进攻邻国吧。耶弗他对阿摩尼特斯人说：“属于你们的神基抹的东西不是你合法应得的东西吗？我们同样有权利占有我们耀武扬威的神已经夺走的土地。”【8】

但是，犹太人以前屈从于巴比伦君主，后来屈从于叙利亚君主，当犹太人试图坚定不移地承认自己的神，而不承认其他神时，这番拒绝被视为一种对抗征服者的叛乱，并给犹太人带来我们在他们历史上所读到的那些迫害，我们尚未找到公元前像那样迫害的例子。【9】

既然每种宗教都如此唯一地依附于规定宗教的自然法则，既然除了征服人就没有使人皈依宗教的手段，所以唯有传教士才是征服者；既然改变信仰的职责是征服法则的一部分，所以有必要在布道使人皈依之前就进行征服。人类决不为了神而战，而像在荷马书中所说的那样，正是诸神才为了人类而战；每个民族都会向神祈求胜利，并偿还神以新的祭坛。古罗马人在拿下一座城池之前，都会拜请那儿的神放弃城池；当他们允许塔伦土姆人维护他们愤怒的神时，正是在这种信仰之中那些神才屈从于他们的神，并被迫向他们表示敬意。他们让被征服者维护自己的神，就像他们让被征服者维护自己的法律一样。献给主神殿朱庇特的王冠往往就是他们勒索的唯一贡品。

最后，当古罗马人随帝国的扩张传播他们的信仰和他们的神，在赋予被征服者一切以及各式各样的公民权中，自己接受被征服者的神时，这个庞大帝国的各民族逐渐发现自己拥有许多的神和信仰，这些神和信仰无处不在，几乎一模一样；这就是异教何以会在整个已知的世界变成一个相同的宗教的原因之所在。

正是在这些情况下，耶稣教才逐渐在全球建立起一个精神王国；这个将神学体系与政治分离的王国，不但意味着国家已不是一个统一体，并且引起国内的区域划分，而不同的区域从未停止过对基督教教民的扰乱。既然另一世界王国的新观念可能从未灌输给异教徒，所以他们始终把基督教视为真正的叛乱者，这些叛乱者在虚情假意屈服的外衣下，只是伺机使他们自己独立称霸，并且狡猾地篡夺他们在软弱时表现出关注的权力。那场迫害的原因便是如此。

异教徒所担忧的事真的发生了；那时一切都变了样；谦卑的基督教徒改变了他们的调子，并且在一个抛头露面的首领统治下，所谓另一世界的王国很快变成这世上最暴力的专制。

然而，既然君主和民事法律继续存在，这个双重权力的结果已变成一场没完没了的司法冲突，这场冲突已使任何一种好的政府制度在基督教国家都变得不可能，因为在这些国家，人们从来就不知道他们是该服从公民的统治者，还是该听从神父。

许多民族，甚至在欧洲或其周边国家的民族，曾试图维护或重新建立古代的制度，可都没有成功：基督精神已大获全胜。宗教崇拜一直维护或恢复其主权者的独立，不过缺乏与国家的必要联系。穆罕默德有过很独到的见解，他小心翼翼地统一起他的政体，只要他的政体形式在他的继任者哈里发的掌权下持续，政体就不会被分割，在某种程度上这是一件好事。但是，变得富裕、有教养、文雅、柔弱、温和的阿拉伯人曾经被野蛮人征服过；然后两权分割重新开始。即使穆斯林之间的两权分割并不比基督教徒之间的明显，这种分割依然存在，尤其存在于阿里教派和像波斯那样的国家中，而人们一直都会感觉到这些地方的两权分割。

在我们当中，英国国王就像教皇和沙皇那样来确立自己的地位。可有了这个国王的称号，他们就不想使自己成为像大臣那样的主人，也不想获得太多的像保存教会那样的权利以改变教会；他们并不是立法者，而只是君主。无论牧师在哪里设立一个团体，【10】他在自己的机构中就是主人和立法者。因而，英国和俄国就有两种权力、两个主权者，就像在其他地方一样。

在所有基督教作家中，哲学家霍布斯是唯一清楚地看出邪恶及其根治方法的人，他敢于建议重新联合鹰派的两个领袖，彻底恢复政治统一，因为没有这一统一，国家和政府都无法健全。不过，他应该已看出基督教的主导精神与其体制互不相容，因为君主利益总是高于国家利益。并不是霍布斯体系如此可怕、虚假的部分，而是其合理、真实的部分，才使得该体系令人憎恨。【11】

我相信，如果历史事实用这个观点来分析，我们就不难反驳贝尔和华伯登相互对立的信仰，他们一个认为宗教对政体无益，而另一个则认为基督教是政体的坚强后盾。通过表明国家没有宗教作为基础就无法创建的道理，我们可以驳斥第一个观点；通过表明基督法则其实对健全的国体不是有用而是腐蚀的道理，我们也可以驳斥第二个观点。为了使这一点得到明确的理解，我想我必须把宗教特别含混不清的观念说得更明确一点，因为它与我的主题有关。

从与普通社会或特别社会联系的角度看，宗教可以分为两种：人类宗教和公民宗教。人类宗教没有神殿、祭坛或礼节，受限于对至高无上神的内在忠诚和道德的外在义务，是纯洁朴素的福音宗教真正的一神论，可以称为神的自然法则。公民宗教是在某一国已建立的宗教；它给予那个国家以其神和特别守护神；它有自己的教条、礼节、由法律规定礼拜的外在形式；对一个提倡这种宗教的国家来说，外在的一切都是失真的、相异的、野蛮的；只要它扩大了祭坛，它就拓展了人的权利与义务。所有早期的国教就是如此；我们可以给它取名为公民的或积极的神圣法则。

还有第三种或更多种古里古怪的宗教，它们给予人们两套立法规则、两位统治者、两个祖国，让人们承担两种相互矛盾的义务，并且阻止人们同时具有教民与公民的身份。拉马斯人的宗教如此，日本人的宗教如此，天主基督教也如此。人们可以称此为牧师的宗教。它产生一种混合的、反社会的法律体系，这种体系没有名称。

从政治观点看，在这三种宗教中，每一种都有其缺陷。第三种宗教显然如此恶劣到乐于说明其恶劣的人总是白费时间。破坏社会统一的一切事物都是毫无价值的；使人人自相矛盾的一切制度也都是毫无价值的。

第二种宗教是一种好宗教，因为它把拜神与守法相结合，还因为在公民赞美祖国的过程中，它教导我们为国家做贡献就是为护神做贡献。这是一种其中只有君主而没有主教、只有行政官而没有牧师的神学。那么，为自己国家而死的人必将成为一名殉道者；违法就是不虔诚；让罪人屈听公共诅咒就等于将其移交给神，让神对其发怒：sacer esto（让神诅咒他去吧！）。

不过，这种宗教也是恶劣的；既然它依赖谬误和谎言，它就会欺骗人们，使人们轻信、迷信；它在空洞的礼仪中将对神的真正崇拜掩盖起来。当它变得孤傲、残暴，并且使一个民族变得残忍、不可容忍时，它就更加恶劣了，这样人们只谈论谋杀和屠杀，只相信他们在杀害不接受他们的神的那些人中做一件神圣的大事。这使得有关的人进入与他人交战的自然状态，并且这是某种对自身安全具有危害的东西。

剩下的是人类的宗教，也就是基督教，不是现今讲的基督教，而是与现今完全不同的福音基督教。在这种神圣的、崇高的、真正的宗教影响下，人们作为同一个神的孩子，把其他人视为兄弟姐妹，并且把他们联合一起的那个社会至死都不会解体。

可是，这种宗教与政体并没有特定的联系，只好让法律自身所拥有的权力交给法律，而不给法律增加什么东西，所以就缺乏一种与任何特别社会结合的必要联系。更有甚者：因为这种宗教使公民的内心与国家分离，好像使其与这世上一切其他东西分离一样，而决不让其归属国家。我不知道还有什么会比这更加违反社会精神的了。

有人说一个真正基督教徒的民族总是建立可以想象的完美无缺的社会。我只看出这个假设中的一个大缺陷，即一个真正基督教徒的社会肯定不是一个人类社会。

我甚至还要说，这个想象的社会有尽善尽美的一切，不是最强大就是最持久。因为完美，所以它就没有联盟的结合；其致命的缺陷就在于其完美到极致。

人人都要履行义务；人人都要服从法律；统治者要公正温和；行政官要诚实廉洁；士兵要藐视死亡；既不能虚荣也不能奢侈；那一切都将十分美好。不过，让我们再往下瞧一瞧吧！

基督教是一种地地道道精神上的宗教，它只涉及天堂的东西；基督教徒的祖国并不是这个世界。基督教徒履行其义务，这一点也不假，可他是以对行为成就与否抱极冷漠的态度来履行义务。假如他对自己没什么好责备的话，这世上的一切是否顺利对他来说就无关紧要了。如果国家繁荣昌盛的话，他几乎不敢享受公众的快乐，而是害怕他会因国家的荣耀而骄傲起来；如果国家灭亡的话，他会祝福那只重压在他的人民身上的上帝之手。

为了使社会得以太平，和谐得以保持，每个公民毫无例外都必须成为好的基督徒。假如不幸出现一个野心勃勃的家伙、一个伪君子、一个谋反者，或者比如在他们当中出现一个克伦威尔的话，那个人一定会轻易地利用他虔诚的同胞。基督的仁慈不容许我们动不动就把我们的邻居往坏处想。当一个人狡猾到掌握了利用别人的技巧，并获得一部分公共权力时，看吧，就有一个人被授予荣誉；就有他应该受尊敬的神的意志；不久，我们就会看到一个有权力的人，以及他应该被服从的神的意志。假定他滥用了人们委托给他的权力呢？那么，他就成了神惩处孩子们的灾难。基督教徒会对驱逐篡夺者顾虑重重，因为那将意味着妨碍大家和睦相处、动用暴力、流血事件，而所有这些极不符合基督教的温和精神。一个人是自由人还是泪水汪汪的奴隶究竟有什么关系呢？重要的事就是要上天堂，而听天由命只不过是升到天堂的另一个手段而已。

假定爆发了一场对外战争，公民们会欣然上战场；他们当中没有人会想逃之夭夭；大家都会尽义务——不过他们不以胜利的激情来尽义务；他们知道如何去献身比如何去征服要好。他们是胜利者还是失败者对他们无关紧要。上帝难道不比他们更清楚什么是必要的吗？人们可以想象得到一个得意的、鲁莽的、易怒的敌人会从他们的斯多葛哲学中汲取到什么好处。让他们去作战以对抗一个宽厚的民族，那么他们的心就会被一股爱荣誉爱国家的强烈之情所吞没；设想一下你们的共和国遭遇斯巴达或古罗马，在你们虔诚的基督教徒有时间发挥他们的才智，或他们将拯救自己只寄托于敌人对他们的轻视之前，他们将遭挫败、受镇压并被消灭。

我自己认为，这是费比乌斯士兵接受到的豪言壮语；他们并不发誓要去征服他人还是要去为国献身，而要像征服者那样归来，他们说到做到。而基督教徒从来不敢这样做；他们会以为这是在试探上帝。

可是我在谈到基督教共和国时犯了错，因为这两个术语是相互矛盾的。基督精神只宣扬奴役和屈服。它的精神对暴政太有利了，以致于专制政治不能不利用它。真正的基督教徒被迫当奴隶；他们毫不犹豫地领会基督精神；可这种短暂的生活在他们眼里太没有价值了。

有人说基督教军队很出色。我否认这种说法。给我展示一下这些军队吧。就个人而言，我对此一无所知。人们可能会提到十字军东征。我不想去争论十字军东征的英勇无畏，可我必须说，他们决不是基督教徒。他们是僧侣兵，教派的公民；他们为了教派的精神家园而战，而教派却以某种奇特的方式使这个精神家园变得昙花一现。严格地说，这个教派归入异教名下；因为既然福音从不创立任何国教，所以在基督教徒当中打神战是不可能的。

在异教徒君主的统治下，基督教徒士兵个个骁勇善战。所有基督教徒作家都告诉我们这一点。我相信他们说的；那些士兵正是为了荣誉而抗击异教徒军队。一旦君主们都成为基督教徒，这种仿效就会终止；一旦十字架将鹰派驱赶出去，所有古罗马人的英勇无畏精神就会消失。

现在把政治考虑搁置一边，让我们回到关于权利问题上来；确定一下解决这个重要问题的种种原则。如我所说，社会公约给予主权者统治臣民的权利并没有超过公共实用的界限。【12】臣民没有义务向主权者说明他们的信仰，除了在那些信仰对共同体来说事关重大的时候。现在对国家很重要的是，每个公民都应该有一种使其热爱自己职责的宗教，但那种宗教的教条不是对国家有利，就是对成员有利，除非只要那些教条涉及到道德和义务，这些道德和义务就必然为每个以那种宗教为业者所履行。此外，每个人可能认为，无论什么意见他都满意，用不着主权者例行公事来加以认识，因为在另一个世界里主权者显得无能为力；只要臣民在未来的生活中当好公民，他们的命运不管会怎样，都跟主权者无关。

因而就有了一种信仰的职业，这种职业纯粹是公民的，而主权者的职能就是确定条条框框，它们并非严格得像宗教的教条，却像社会良知的表达，而没有社会良知，要想成为一个良好的公民或一个忠诚的臣民都是不可能的。【13】不能强迫人人都得相信这些条条框框，主权者可以将任何不相信它们的人驱逐出境；驱逐他不是由于他不敬，而是由于他是一个反社会的人，一个不能真诚热爱法律和正义的人，或是一个如有必要不能真诚殉职的人。如果每个人在已公开承认与那些条条框框相同的教条之后，举手投足间仿佛他并不相信它们，那么就把他处死吧，因为他犯下滔天大罪，即在法律面前撒谎的罪。

公民宗教的教条必须既简单又少量，表达精确，无需解释或评注。全能的、理智的、仁慈的、先知先觉神性的存在，来生，正义的快乐，惩罚罪人，社会契约和法律的圣洁——这些都是积极的教条。至于消极的教条，我把它们限于一条：即不可不宽容。不宽容属于我们已经拒绝的宗教之列。

依我看，那些区分公民和神学的不宽容的人都错了。不宽容的这两种形式是不可分割的。要与人们相信将受诅咒的人和睦相处，这是不可能的；爱戴他们就等于憎恨将要惩罚他们的神；不是赎回他们就是折磨他们，这是一项责无旁贷的义务。无论神学的不宽容在哪里为人所接受，它必然具有某种公民的重要性，【14】而当它有了这种重要性时，主权者就不再是主权者了，哪怕是短暂的一刻；在这个阶段，牧师成为真实的主人，而君主只不过成了牧师的办事员。

由于现在没有也不再可能有一个唯一的国教，所有自身容忍其他宗教的宗教都必须得到容忍，假如它们的教条不含任何与公民的义务相对立的东西。然而，凡是敢说：“在教堂之外没有拯救”的人应该从他的国家驱逐出去，除非那个国家就是教堂，并且君主就是主教。这样一种教条只有在神权政体中是好的；而在任何其他政体中却是有害的。据说亨利四世之所以接受了天主教，是因为他要使所有诚实的人都放弃天主教。

第九章　结论

在陈述了政治权利的真正原则，并且试图在这些原则基础上创建国家之后，我应该思考国家的对外关系，包括国际法、商业、战争权与征服权、公共法、联盟、谈判、条约等等，以此来结束我的研究。但是，所有这些都代表一个新主题，这个主题对才疏识浅的我来说显得太大了；我应该始终关注我力所能及的种种问题。

注　释

【1】这应该始终理解为仅指自由的国家，因为在别处家庭、财产、缺乏庇护、必需品以及暴力，这些都可能勉强使一个居民留在国内；到那时纯粹的居住不再表示他是同意契约还是违背契约。

【2】在热那亚，所有监狱的大门上和大帆船的锁链上，都可以看到“自由”这个词。把这个词当作座右铭来用真是美妙又恰当。其实，正是各国犯罪分子才妨碍公民得到自由。在一个所有这般人都在大帆船上的国家里，人们一定会享受到最完美的自由。

【3】“罗马”这个名字，据说出自罗穆鲁斯，其实是希腊语，意思是“力量”；“努玛”这个名字也是希腊语，意思是“法律”。罗马城最早的两位国王应该在其执政前就有了与他们所从事的事业极其有关的名字，这很有可能吗？

【4】我之所以说“玛尔斯教场”，是因为百人团大会在这里召开。至于集会的其他两种形式，人民在广场上或在别的地方开会，而“按人头计数”的人就具有跟一流公民那样的影响和权威。

【5】被这样抽中的百人团享有“优先权”，因为要求它第一个投票；这就是我们所用的“特权”这个词的由来。

【6】这一任命在夜间秘密进行，好像他们为把一个人凌驾于法律之上而感到羞耻。

【7】如果他提出任命一名独裁者，他原本对此并无把握，因为他既不敢毛遂自荐，也无法确定他的同僚会提他的名。

【8】 “Nonne ea quae possidet Chamos deus tuus, tibi jure debentur?”这句话是拉丁文圣经的原文。贾立蔼神父将它译为：“你们难道不认为有权拥有属于你们的神基抹的东西吗？”我不知道希伯来原文写的是什么；可我注意到：在拉丁文中耶弗肯定地承认神基抹的权力，但是法语译文却增加了拉丁文本中所没有的“依你的说法”，从而削弱了原意。

【9】那场号称圣战的福西人的战争并不是一场宗教战争。其目的是要惩罚渎神者，而不是要使不信教者屈从，这显然没有争论的余地。

【10】应当注意到，把教士集中在一个团体中，这并不是很正式的集会（像法国的那样），倒更像是教会的圣餐。圣餐与开除教藉是教士们的社会契约；通过这个公约，他们始终既是人民的主人，又是国王的主人。所有一起沟通的牧师都是同胞公民，纵然他们身处地球的两极。这种发明成为政治的一大杰作。在异教的牧师当中未曾有过像这样的事，所以他们也就从未组织过教士团体。

【11】此外，请看格老秀斯1643年4月11日给他兄弟的一封信，从中可以看出，在《公民论》一书中这位学者赞许什么，反对什么。诚然，他看在作者优点的份上很宽容地原谅了作者的缺点；可并非人人都如此宽宏大度。

【12】阿冉松侯爵说过：“在共和国，每个人都可以完全自由地不做伤害别人的事。”这是一条不可更改的做人底线；人们无法更确切地表达这句话。尽管他的手稿并不为人所知，可是我一直无法否认有时引用他的手稿中时的愉快心情，以对这位卓越可钦的人物表示敬意，甚至作为首相，他还始终保持着一颗真正的公民之心，并且对本国政府持有一种公正、坚定的观点。

【13】凯撒在为卡提里那辩护时，曾试图确立一种灵魂死亡的教条。卡图和西塞罗在反驳这一教条时，根本就不想费功夫用哲学去论证；他们满意地指出：凯撒像一个坏公民那样在发言，并提出一种有害于国家的学说。罗马元老院要判决的正是这一点，而不是什么神学问题。

【14】例如，婚姻是一项公民契约，具有政治影响，没有了这项契约，社会本身想要生存下去是不可能的。现在让我们设想一下，在一个特定的国家，牧师居然获得婚姻许可权，而这种权利也是任何不宽容的宗教必然要争取的；他们就此在提高教会权威中取消君主的权威，那么君主所剩的只有牧师允许他拥有的臣民了，这不是很明显的吗？牧师可以根据人们是否接受这样那样的教义，承认或拒绝这样那样的婚姻，或者根据人们的虔诚程度，如果牧师精明地行事并坚定地执行，难道这不是明显地说，只有它才能适时处理继承、职位、公民等事务，甚至治理国家吗？因为全靠私生子组成的国家是不会长久生存下去的。可你们也许会说，我们可以号召现有的力量，发布命令，授予权利并占领教会财产。多么可怜的见解！如果牧师有一点点的常识——我不是说有一点点的勇气，它会任凭一切顺其自然；它可以安然地让别人去宣告，授权和接管，并且仍然像主人那样告终。我以为，当你有把握获得整体时，放弃局部并不算做出很大的牺牲。

Jean-Jacques Rousseau

The Social Contract

TRANSLATED BY MAURICE CRANSTON

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Contents

Book Ⅰ

Book Ⅱ

Book Ⅲ

Book Ⅳ

返回总目录

Book Ⅰ

MY purpose is to consider if, in political society, there can be any legitimate and sure principle of government, taking men as they are and laws as they might be. In this inquiry I shall try always to bring together what right permits with what interest prescribes so that justice and utility are in no way divided.

I start without seeking to prove the importance of my subject. I may be asked whether I am a prince or a legislator that I should be writing about politics. I answer no: and indeed that that is my reason for doing so. If I were a prince or a legislator I should not waste my time saying what ought to be done; I should do it or keep silent.

Born as I was the citizen of a free state and a member of its sovereign body, the very right to vote imposes on me the duty to instruct myself in public affairs, however little influence my voice may have in them. And whenever I reflect upon governments, I am happy to find that my studies always give me fresh reasons for admiring that of my own country.

CHAPTER 1

The subject of Book Ⅰ

MAN was born free, and he is everywhere in chains. Those who think themselves the masters of others are indeed greater slaves than they. How did this transformation come about? I do not know. How can it be made legitimate? That question I believe I can answer.

If I were to consider only force and the effects of force, I should say: 'So long as a people is constrained to obey, and obeys, it does well; but as soon as it can shake off the yoke, and shakes it off, it does better; for since it regains its freedom by the same right as that which removed it, a people is either justified in taking back its freedom, or there is no justifying those who took it away.' But the social order is a sacred right which serves as a basis for all other rights. And as it is not a natural right, it must be one founded on covenants. The problem is to determine what those covenants are. But before we pass on to that question, I must substantiate what I have so far said.

CHAPTER 2

The First Societies

THE oldest of all societies, and the only natural one, is that of the family; yet children remain tied to their father by nature only so long as they need him for their preservation. As soon as this need ends, the natural bond is dissolved. Once the children are freed from the obedience they owe their father, and the father is freed from his responsibilities towards them, both parties equally regain their independence. If they continue to remain united, it is no longer nature, but their own choice, which unites them; and the family as such is kept in being only by agreement.

This common liberty is a consequence of man's nature. Man's first law is to watch over his own preservation; his first care he owes to himself; and as soon as he reaches the age of reason, he becomes the only judge of the best means to preserve himself; he becomes his own master.

The family may therefore perhaps be seen as the first model of political societies: the head of the state bears the image of the father, the people the image of his children, and all, being born free and equal, surrender their freedom only when they see advantage in doing so. The only difference is that in the family, a father's love for his children repays him for the care he bestows on them, while in the state, where the ruler can have no such feeling for his people, the pleasure of commanding must take the place of love.

Grotius denies that all human government is established for the benefit of the governed, and he cites the example of slavery. His characteristic method of reasoning is always to offer fact as a proof of right.【1】 It is possible to imagine a more logical method, but not one more favourable to tyrants.

According to Grotius, therefore, it is doubtful whether humanity belongs to a hundred men, or whether these hundred men belong to humanity, though he seems throughout his book to lean to the first of these views, which is also that of Hobbes. These authors show us the human race divided into herds of cattle, each with a master who preserves it only in order to devour its members.

Just as a shepherd possesses a nature superior to that of his flock, so do those shepherds of men, their rulers, have a nature superior to that of their people. Or so, we are told by Philo, the Emperor Caligula argued, concluding, reasonably enough on this same analogy, that kings were gods or alternatively that the people were animals.

The reasoning of Caligula coincides with that of Hobbes and Grotius. Indeed Aristotle, before any of them, said that men were not at all equal by nature, since some were born for slavery and others born to be masters.

Aristotle was right; but he mistook the effect for the cause. Anyone born in slavery is born for slavery—nothing is more certain. Slaves, in their bondage, lose everything, even the desire to be free. They love their servitude even as the companions of Ulysses loved their life as brutes.【2】 But if there are slaves by nature, it is only because there has been slavery against nature. Force made the first slaves; and their cowardice perpetuates their slavery.

I have said nothing of the King Adam or of the Emperor Noah, father of the three great monarchs who shared out the universe between them, like the children of Saturn, with whom some authors have identified them. I hope my readers will be grateful for this moderation, for since I am directly descended from one of those princes, and perhaps in the eldest line, how do I know that if the deeds were checked, I might not find myself the legitimate king of the human race? However that may be, there is no gainsaying that Adam was the king of the world, as was Robinson Crusoe of his island, precisely because he was the sole inhabitant; and the great advantage of such an empire was that the monarch, secure upon his throne, had no occasion to fear rebellions, wars or conspirators.

CHAPTER 3

The Right of the Strongest

THE strongest man is never strong enough to be master all the time, unless he transforms force into right and obedience into duty. Hence 'the right of the strongest'—a 'right' that sounds like something intended ironically, but is actually laid down as a principle. But shall we never have this phrase explained? Force is a physical power; I do not see how its effects could produce morality. To yield to force is an act of necessity, not of will; it is at best an act of prudence. In what sense can it be a moral duty?

Let us grant, for a moment, that this so-called right exists. I suggest it can only produce a tissue of bewildering nonsense; for once might is made to be right, cause and effect are reversed, and every force which overcomes another force inherits the right which belonged to the vanquished. As soon as man can disobey with impunity, his disobedience becomes legitimate; and as the strongest is always right, the only problem is how to become the strongest. But what can be the validity of a right which perishes with the force on which it rests? If force compels obedience, there is no need to invoke a duty to obey, and if force ceases to compel obedience, there is no longer any obligation. Thus the word 'right' adds nothing to what is said by 'force'; it is meaningless.

'Obey those in power.' If this means 'yield to force' the precept is sound, but superfluous; it will never, I suggest, be violated. All power comes from God, I agree; but so does every disease, and no one forbids us to summon a physician. If I am held up by a robber at the edge of a wood, force compels me to hand over my purse. But if I could somehow contrive to keep the purse from him, would I still be obliged in conscience to surrender it? After all, the pistol in the robber's hand is undoubtedly a power.

Surely it must be admitted, then, that might does not make right, and that the duty of obedience is owed only to legitimate powers. Thus we are constantly led back to my original question.

CHAPTER 4

Slavery

SINCE no man has any natural authority over his fellows, and since force alone bestows no right, all legitimate authority among men must be based on covenants.

Grotius says: 'If an individual can alienate his freedom and become the slave of a master, why may not a whole people alienate its freedom and become the subject of a king?' In this remark there are several ambiguous words which call for explanation; but let us confine ourselves to one — to 'alienate'. To alienate is to give or sell. A man who becomes the slave of another does not give himself, he sells himself in return for at least a subsistence. But in return for what could a whole people be said to sell itself? A king, far from nourishing his subjects, draws his nourishment from them; and kings, according to Rabelais, need more than a little nourishment. Do subjects, then, give their persons to the king on condition that he will accept their property as well? If so, I fail to see what they have left to preserve.

It will be said that a despot gives his subjects the assurance of civil tranquillity. Very well, but what does it profit them, if those wars against other powers which result from a despot's ambition, if his insatiable greed, and the oppressive demands of his administration, cause more desolation than civil strife would cause? What do the people gain if their very condition of civil tranquillity is one of their hardships? There is peace in dungeons, but is that enough to make dungeons desirable? The Greeks lived in peace in the cave of Cyclops awaiting their turn to be devoured.

To speak of a man giving himself in return for nothing is to speak of what is absurd, unthinkable; such an action would be illegitimate, void, if only because no one who did it could be in his right mind. To say the same of a whole people is to conjure up a nation of lunatics; and right cannot rest on madness.

Even if each individual could alienate himself, he cannot alienate his children. For they are born men; they are born free; their liberty belongs to them; no one but they themselves has the right to dispose of it. Before they reach the years of discretion, their father may, in their name, make certain rules for their protection and their welfare, but he cannot give away their liberty irrevocably and unconditionally, for such a gift would be contrary to the ends of nature and an abuse of paternal right. Hence, an arbitrary government would be legitimate only if every new generation were able to accept or reject it, and in that case the government would cease to be arbitrary.

To renounce freedom is to renounce one's humanity, one's rights as a man and equally one's duties. There is no possible quid pro quo for one who renounces everything; indeed such renunciation is contrary to man's very nature; for if you take away all freedom of the will, you strip a man's actions of all moral significance. Finally, any covenant which stipulated absolute dominion for one party and absolute obedience for the other would be illogical and nugatory. Is it not evident that he who is entitled to demand everything owes nothing? And does not the single fact of there being no reciprocity, no mutual obligation, nullify the act? For what right can my slave have against me? If everything he has belongs to me, his right is my right, and it would be nonsense to speak of my having a right against myself.

Grotius and the rest claim to find in war another justification for the so-called right of slavery. They argue that the victor's having the right to kill the vanquished implies that the vanquished has the right to purchase his life at the expense of his liberty — a bargain thought to be the more legitimate because it is advantageous to both parties.

But it is clear that this so-called right to kill the vanquished cannot be derived from the state of war. For this reason alone, that men living in their primitive condition of independence have no intercourse regular enough to constitute either a state of peace or a state of war; and men are not naturally enemies. It is conflicts over things, not quarrels between men which constitute war, and the state of war cannot arise from mere personal relations, but only from property relations. Private wars between one man and another can exist neither in a state of nature, where there is no fixed property, nor in society, where everything is under the authority of law.

Private fights, duels, skirmishes, do not constitute any kind of state; and as for the private wars that were permitted by the ordinances of Louis Ⅸ, King of France, and suspended by the Peace of God, these were no more than an abuse of feudal government, an irrational system if there ever was one, and contrary both to natural justice and to all sound polity.

War, then, is not a relation between men, but between states; in war individuals are enemies wholly by chance, not as men, not even as citizens,【3】 but only as soldiers; not as members of their country, but only as its defenders. In a word, a state can have as an enemy only another state, not men, because there can be no real relation between things possessing different intrinsic natures.

This principle conforms to the established rules of all times and to the constant practice of every political society. Declarations of war are warnings not so much to governments as to their subjects. The foreigner —whether he is a king, a private person or a whole people — who robs, kills or detains the subjects of another prince without first declaring war against that prince, is not an enemy but a brigand. Even in the midst of war, a just prince, seizing what he can of public property in the enemy's territory, nevertheless respects the persons and possessions of private individuals; he respects the principles on which his own rights are based. Since the aim of war is to subdue a hostile state, a combatant has the right to kill the defenders of that state while they are armed; but as soon as they lay down their arms and surrender, they cease to be either enemies or instruments of the enemy; they become simply men once more, and no one has any longer the right to take their lives. It is sometimes possible to destroy a state without killing a single one of its members, and war gives no right to inflict any more destruction than is necessary for victory. These principles were not invented by Grotius, nor are they founded on the authority of the poets; they are derived from the nature of things; they are based on reason.

The right of conquest has no other foundation than the law of the strongest. And if war gives the conqueror no right to massacre a conquered people, no such right can be invoked to justify their enslavement. Men have the right to kill their enemies only when they cannot enslave them, so the right of enslaving cannot be derived from the right to kill. It would therefore be an iniquitous barter to make the vanquished purchase with their liberty the lives over which the victor has no legitimate claim. An argument basing the right over life and death on the right to enslave, and the right to enslave on the right over life and death, is an argument trapped in a vicious circle.

Even if we assumed that this terrible right of massacre did exist, then slaves of war, or a conquered people, would be under no obligation to obey their master any further than they were forced to do so. By taking an equivalent of his victim's life, the victor shows him no favour; instead of destroying him unprofitably, he destroys him by exploiting him. Hence, far from the victor having acquired some further authority besides that of force over the vanquished, the state of war between them continues; their mutual relation is the effect of war, and the continuation of the rights of war implies that there has been no treaty of peace. An agreement has assuredly been made, but that agreement, far from ending the state of war, presupposes its continuation.

Thus, however we look at the question, the 'right' of slavery is seen to be void; void, not only because it cannot be justified, but also because it is nonsensical, because it has no meaning. The words 'slavery' and 'right' are contradictory, they cancel each other out. Whether as between one man and another, or between one man and a whole people, it would always be absurd to say: 'I hereby make a covenant with you which is wholly at your expense and wholly to my advantage; I will respect it so long as I please and you shall respect it so long as I wish.'

CHAPTER 5

That We Must Always Go Back To an Original Covenant

EVEN if I were to concede all that I have so far refuted, the champions of despotism would be no better off. There will always be a great differece between subduing a multitude and ruling a society. If one man successively enslaved many separate individuals, no matter how numerous, he and they would never bear the aspect of anything but a master and his slaves, not at all that of a people and their ruler; an aggregation, perhaps, but certainly not an association, for they would neither have a common good nor be a body politic. Even if such a man were to enslave half the world, he would remain a private individual, and his interest, always distinct from that of the others, would never be more than a personal interest. When he died, the empire he left would be scattered for lack of any bond of union, even as an oak crumbles and falls into a heap of ashes when fire has consumed it.

'A people,' says Grotius, 'may give itself to a king.' Therefore, according to Grotius a people is a people even before the gift to the king is made. The gift itself is a civil act; it presupposes public deliberation. Hence, before considering the act by which a people submits to a king, we ought to scrutinize the act by which people become a people, for that act, being necessarily antecedent to the other, is the real foundation of society.

In fact, if there were no earlier agreement, how, unless the election were unanimous, could there be any obligation on the minority to accept the decision of the majority? What right have the hundred who want to have a master to vote on behalf of the ten who do not? The law of majority-voting itself rests on an agreement, and implies that there has been on at least one occasion unanimity.

CHAPTER 6

The Social Pact

I ASSUME that men reach a point where the obstacles to their preservation in a state of nature prove greater than the strength that each man has to preserve himself in that state. Beyond this point, the primitive condition cannot endure, for then the human race will perish if it does not change its mode of existence.

Since men cannot create new forces, but merely combine and control those which already exist, the only way in which they can preserve themselves is by uniting their separate powers in a combination strong enough to overcome any resistance, uniting them so that their powers are directed by a single motive and act in concert.

Such a sum of forces can be produced only by the union of separate men, but as each man's own strength and liberty are the chief instruments of his preservation, how can he merge his with others' without putting himself in peril and neglecting the care he owes to himself? This difficulty, in terms of my present subject, may be expressed in these words:

'How to find a form of association which will defend the person and goods of each member with the collective force of all, and under which each individual, while uniting himself with the others, obeys no one but himself, and remains as free as before.' This is the fundamental problem to which the social contract holds the solution.

The articles of this contract are so precisely determined by the nature of the act, that the slightest modification must render them null and void; they are such that, though perhaps never formally stated, they are everywhere the same, everywhere tacitly admitted and recognized; and if ever the social pact is violated, every man regains his original rights and, recovering his natural freedom, loses that civil freedom for which he exchanged it.

These articles of association, rightly understood, are reducible to a single one, namely the total alienation by each associate of himself and all his rights to the whole community. Thus, in the first place, as every individual gives himself absolutely, the conditions are the same for all, and precisely because they are the same for all, it is in no one's interest to make the conditions onerous for others.

Secondly, since the alienation is unconditional, the union is as perfect as it can be, and no individual associate has any longer any rights to claim; for if rights were left to individuals, in the absence of any higher authority to judge between them and the public, each individual, being his own judge in some causes, would soon demand to be his own judge in all; and in this way the state of nature would be kept in being, and the association inevitably become either tyrannical or void.

Finally, since each man gives himself to all, he gives himself to no one; and since there is no associate over whom he does not gain the same rights as others gain over him, each man recovers the equivalent of everything he loses, and in the bargain he acquires more power to preserve what he has.

If, then, we eliminate from the social pact everything that is not essential to it, we find it comes down to this: 'Each one of us puts into the community his person and all his powers under the supreme direction of the general will; and as a body, we incorporate every member as an indivisible part of the whole.'

Immediately, in place of the individual person of each contracting party, this act of association creates an artificial and corporate body composed of as many members as there are voters in the assembly, and by this same act that body acquires its unity, its common ego, its life and its will. The public person thus formed by the union of all other persons was once called the city,【4】 and is now known as the republic or the body politic. In its passive role it is called the state, when it plays an active role it is the sovereign; and when it is compared to others of its own kind, it is a power. Those who are associated in it take collectively the name of a people, and call themselves individually citizens, in that they share in the sovereign power, and subjects, in that they put themselves under the laws of the state. However, these words are often confused, each being mistaken for another; but the essential thing is to know how to recognize them when they are used in their precise sense.

CHAPTER 7

The Sovereign

THIS formula shows that the act of association consists of a reciprocal commitment between society and the individual, so that each person, in making a contract, as it were, with himself, finds himself doubly committed, first, as a member of the sovereign body in relation to individuals, and secondly as a member of the state in relation to the sovereign. Here there can be no invoking the principle of civil law which says that no man is bound by a contract with himself, for there is a great difference between having an obligation to oneself and having an obligation to something of which one is a member.

We must add that a public decision can impose an obligation on all the subjects towards the sovereign, by reason of the two aspects under which each can be seen, while, contrariwise, such decisions cannot impose an obligation on the sovereign towards itself; and hence it would be against the very nature of a political body for the sovereign to set over itself a law which it could not infringe. The sovereign, bearing only one single and identical aspect, is in the position of a private person making a contract with himself, which shows that there neither is, nor can be, any kind of fundamental law binding on the people as a body, not even the social contract itself. This does not mean that the whole body cannot incur obligations to other nations, so long as those obligations do not infringe the contract; for in relation to foreign powers, the body politic is a simple entity, an individual.

However, since the body politic, or sovereign, owes its being to the sanctity of the contract alone, it cannot commit itself, even in treaties with foreign powers, to anything that would derogate from the original act of association; it could not, for example, alienate a part of itself or submit to another sovereign. To violate the act which has given it existence would be to annihilate itself; and what is nothing can produce nothing.

As soon as the multitude is united thus in a single body, no one can injure any one of the members without attacking the whole, still less injure the whole without each member feeling it. Duty and self-interest thus equally oblige the two contracting parties to give each other mutual aid; and the same men should seek to bring together in this dual relationship, all the advantages that flow from it.

Now, as the sovereign is formed entirely of the individuals who compose it, it has not, nor could it have, any interest contrary to theirs; and so the sovereign has no need to give guarantees to the subjects, because it is impossible for a body to wish to hurt all of its members, and, as we shall see, it cannot hurt any particular member. The sovereign by the mere fact that it is, is always all that it ought to be.

But this is not true of the relation of subject to sovereign. Despite their common interest, subjects will not be bound by their commitment unless means are found to guarantee their fidelity.

For every individual as a man may have a private will contrary to, or different from, the general will that he has as a citizen. His private interest may speak with a very different voice from that of the public interest; his absolute and naturally independent existence may make him regard what he owes to the common cause as a gratuitous contribution, the loss of which would be less painful for others than the payment is onerous for him; and fancying that the artificial person which constitutes the state is a mere fictitious entity (since it is not a man), he might seek to enjoy the rights of a citizen without doing the duties of a subject. The growth of this kind of injustice would bring about the ruin of the body politic.

Hence, in order that the social pact shall not be an empty formula, it is tacitly implied in that commitment — which alone can give force to all others — that whoever refuses to obey the general will shall be constrained to do so by the whole body, which means nothing other than that he shall be forced to be free; for this is the necessary condition which, by giving each citizen to the nation, secures him against all personal dependence, it is the condition which shapes both the design and the working of the political machine, and which alone bestows justice on civil contracts — without it, such contracts would be absurd, tyrannical and liable to the grossest abuse.

CHAPTER 8

Civil Society

THE passing from the state of nature to the civil society produces a remarkable change in man; it puts justice as a rule of conduct in the place of instinct, and gives his actions the moral quality they previously lacked. It is only then, when the voice of duty has taken the place of physical impulse, and right that of desire, that man, who has hitherto thought only of himself, finds himself compelled to act on other principles, and to consult his reason rather than study his inclinations. And although in civil society man surrenders some of the advantages that belong to the state of nature, he gains in return far greater ones; his faculties are so exercised and developed, his mind is so enlarged, his sentiments so ennobled, and his whole spirit so elevated that, if the abuse of his new condition did not in many cases lower him to something worse than what he had left, he should constantly bless the happy hour that lifted him for ever from the state of nature and from a stupid, limited animal made a creature of intelligence and a man.

Suppose we draw up a balance sheet, so that the losses and gains may be readily compared. What man loses by the social contract is his natural liberty and the absolute right to anything that tempts him and that he can take; what he gains by the social contract is civil liberty and the legal right of property in what he possesses. If we are to avoid mistakes in weighing the one side against the other, we must clearly distinguish between natural liberty, which has no limit but the physical power of the individual concerned, and civil liberty, which is limited by the general will; and we must distinguish also between possession, which is based only on force or 'the right of the first occupant', and property, which must rest on a legal title.

We might also add that man acquires with civil society, moral freedom, which alone makes man the master of himself; for to be governed by appetite alone is slavery, while obedience to a law one prescribes to oneself is freedom. However, I have already said more than enough on this subject, and the philosophical meaning of the word 'freedom' is no part of my subject here.

CHAPTER 9

Of Property

EVERY member of the community gives himself to it at the moment it is brought into being just as he is — he himself, with all his resources, including all his goods. This is not to say that possession by this act changes its nature in changing hands and becomes property in the grasp of the sovereign; but rather, that as the resources of the nation are incomparably greater than those of an individual, public possession is in simple fact more secure and more irrevocable than private possession, without being any more legitimate — at any rate, in the eyes of foreigners; for the state, vis-à-vis its own members, becomes master of all their goods by virtue of the social contract, which serves, within the state, as the basis of all other rights; while vis-à-vis other nations, the state has only the 'right of the first occupant', which it derives from individuals.

The 'right of the first occupant', although more real than the 'right of the strongest', does not become a true right until the institution of property. Every man has a natural right to what he needs; but the positive act which makes a man the proprietor of any estate excludes him from everything else. His share having once been settled, he must confine himself to it, and he has no further right against the community. Thus we see how 'the right of the first occupant', weak as it is in the state of nature, compels in political society the respect of all men. What this right makes one aware of is less what belongs to others than what does not belong to oneself.

As a general rule, to justify the right of the first occupant to any piece of land whatever, the following conditions must obtain: first, that the land shall not already be inhabited by anyone else; secondly, that the claimant occupies no more than he needs for subsistence; thirdly, that he takes possession, not by an idle ceremony, but by actually working and cultivating the soil — the only sign of ownership which need be respected by other people in the absence of a legal title.

It can, indeed, be said that tying 'the right of the first occupant' to need and work is stretching it as far as it will go. Can one really avoid setting limits on the right? Is it enough to put one's feet on a piece of common land in order to claim it at once as one's own? Is it enough to have the power to keep other men off for one moment in order to deprive them of the right ever to return? How could a man or a people seize a vast territory and keep out the rest of the human race except by a criminal usurpation — since the action would rob the rest of mankind of the shelter and the food that nature has given them all in common? When Nunez Balbao stood on the shore and took possession of the southern seas and of South America in the name of the crown of Castille, was that enough to dispossess all the inhabitants and to exclude all the other princes of the world? If so, such idle ceremonies would have had no end; and the Catholic King might without leaving his royal chamber have taken possession of the whole universe, only excepting afterwards those parts of his empire already belonging to other princes.

We can see how the lands of private persons, when they are united and contiguous, become public territory; and how the right of sovereignty, extending from the subjects to the soil they occupy, covers both property and persons; it makes the owners all the more dependent, and turns their own strength into the guarantee of their fidelity. This advantage seems to have eluded the ancient monarchs, who, in calling themselves simply the King of the Persians or the Scythians or the Macedonians, appear to have regarded themselves rather as rulers of men than as masters of their countries. Monarchs of the present day call themselves more shrewdly the King of France, or of Spain, or of England and so on; in holding thus the land, they are very sure of holding the inhabitants.

What is unique about the alienation entailed by the social contract is that the community in accepting the goods of an individual is far from depriving him of them; on the contrary it simply assures him of their lawful possession; it changes usurpation into valid right and mere enjoyment into legal ownership. Since every owner is regarded as a trustee of the public property, his rights are respected by every other member of the state, and protected with its collective force against foreigners; men have, by a surrender which is advantageous to the public and still more to themselves, acquired, so to speak, all that they have given up — a paradox which is easily explained by the distinction between the rights which the soverign has and which the owner has over the same property, as will be seen later.

It may also happen that men begin to unite before they possess anything, and spreading over a territory large enough for them all, proceed to enjoy it in common, or, alternatively, divide it among themselves either equally or in shares determined by the sovereign. In whatever manner this acquisition is made, the right of any individual over his own estate is always subordinate to the right of the community over everything; for without this there would be neither strength in the social bond nor effective force in the exercise of sovereignty.

I shall end this chapter — and Book Ⅰ — with an observation which might serve as a basis for the whole social system: namely, that the social pact, far from destroying natural equality, substitutes, on the contrary, a moral and lawful equality for whatever physical inequality that nature may have imposed on mankind; so that however unequal in strength and intelligence, men become equal by covenant and by right.【5】

Note

【1】 'Learned researches on public law are often only the history of ancient abuses, and one is misled when one gives oneself the trouble of studying them too closely.' Traité manuscrit des intérêts de la France avec ses voisins by the Marquis d'Argenson.

【2】 See a short treatise of Plutarch entitled: That Animals use Reason.

【3】 The Romans, who understood and respected the rights of war better than any other nation, carried their scruples on this subject so far that a citizen was forbidden to volunteer without engaging himself expressly against the enemy and against an enemy specifically named. When the legion in which the younger Cato fought his first campaign under Popilius was re-formed, the elder Cato wrote to Popilius saying that if he wished his son to continue to serve under him, he should administer a fresh military oath, on the grounds that his son's first oath was annulled, and that he could no longer bear arms against the enemy. Cato also wrote to his son warning him not to go into battle without first taking the oath.

I realize that the siege of Clusium and other incidents from Roman history may be quoted against me, but I am citing laws and customs. No nation has broken its own laws less frequently than the Romans, and no nation has ever had such excellent laws.

【4】 The real meaning of this word has been almost entirely lost in the modern world, when a town and a city are thought to be identical, and a citizen the same as a burgess. People forget that houses may make a town, while only citizens can make a city. The Carthaginians once paid dearly for this mistake. I have never read of the title cives being given to the subject of any prince, not even to the Macedonians in ancient times or the English today, in spite of their being closer to liberty than any other people. The French alone treat the same 'Citizen' with familiarity, and that is because they do not know what it means, as their Dictionaries prove; if they did know, they would be guilty, in usurping it, of lèse-majesté; as it is, they use the word to designate social status and not legal right. When Bodin wanted to speak of citizens and burgesses, he made the gross error of mistaking the one for the other. Monsieur d'Alembert avoids this mistake; and in his article on 'Geneva' he correctly distinguishes between the four orders of men (five, if aliens are included) which are found in our town, and of which only two compose the republic. No other French author to my knowledge has understood the real meaning of the word 'citizen'.

【5】 Under a bad government, this equality is only an appearance and an illusion; it serves only to keep the poor in their wretchedness and sustain the rich in their usurpation. In truth, laws are always useful to those with possessions and harmful to those who have nothing; from which it follows that the social state is advantageous to men only when all possess something and none has too much.

Book Ⅱ

CHAPTER 1

That Sovereignty is Inalienable

THE first and most important consequence of the principles so far established is that the general will alone can direct the forces of the state in accordance with that end which the state has been established to achieve — the common good; for if conflict between private interests has made the setting up of civil societies necessary, harmony between those same interests has made it possible. It is what is common to those different interests which yields the social bond; if there were no point on which separate interests coincided, then society could not conceivably exist. And it is precisely on the basis of this common interest that society must be governed.

My argument, then, is that sovereignty, being nothing other than the exercise of the general will, can never be alienated; and that the sovereign, which is simply a collective being, cannot be represented by anyone but itself — power may be delegated, but the will cannot be.

For indeed while it is not impossible for a private will to coincide with the general will on some point or other, it is impossible for such a coincidence to be regular and enduring; for the private will inclines by its very nature towards partiality, and the general will towards equality. It is even more inconceivable that there could be a guarantee of harmony between the private and the general will, even if it were to continue always, for such lasting harmony would be the result of chance and not of design. The sovereign might say: 'What I want at present is precisely what this man wants, or at least what he says he wants'; but no sovereign could say: 'What this man is going to want tomorrow I too shall want', for it is absurd that anyone should wish to bind himself for the future, and it is a contradiction in terms to say that any human being should wish to consent to something that is the reverse of his own good. If a people promises simply and solely to obey, it dissolves itself by that very pledge; it ceases to be a people; for once there is a master, there is no longer a sovereign, and the body politic is therefore annihilated.

This is not to say that the commands of leaders may not pass for the general will if the sovereign, while free to oppose them, does not do so. In such a case the silence of the people permits the assumption that the people consents. This will be explained more fully in a later chapter.

CHAPTER 2

That Sovereignty is Indivisible

JUST as sovereignty is inalienable, it is for the same reason indivisible; for either the will is general【1】 or it is not; either it is the will of the body of the people, or merely that of a part. In the first case, a declaration of will is an act of sovereignty and constitutes law; in the second case, it is only a declaration of a particular will or an act of administration, it is at best a mere decree.

Nevertheless, our political theorists, unable to divide the principle of sovereignty, divide it in its purpose; they divide it into power and will, divide it, that is, into executive and legislative, into the rights of levying taxation, administering justice and making war, into domestic jurisdiction and the power to deal with foreign governments. Sometimes our theorists confuse all the parts and sometimes they separate them. They make the sovereign a creature of fantasy, a patchwork of separate pieces, rather as if they were to construct a man of several bodies — one with eyes, one with legs, the other with feet and nothing else. It is said that Japanese mountebanks can cut up a child under the eyes of spectators, throw the different parts into the air, and then make the child come down, alive and all of a piece. This is more or less the trick that our political theorists perform —after dismembering the social body with a sleight of hand worthy of the fairground, they put the pieces together again anyhow.

The mistake comes from having no precise notion of what sovereign authority is, and from taking mere manifestations of authority for parts of the authority itself. For instance, the acts of declaring war and making peace have been regarded as acts of sovereignty, which they are not; for neither of these acts constitutes a law, but only an application of law, a particular act which determines how the law shall be interpreted — and all this will be obvious as soon as I have defined the idea which attaches to the word 'law'.

If we were to scrutinize in the same way the other supposed divisions of sovereignty, we should find that whenever we thought that sovereignty was divided, we had been mistaken, for the rights which are taken to be part of that sovereignty prove in fact to be subordinate to it, and presuppose the existence of a supreme will which they merely serve to put into effect.

This want of precision has obfuscated immeasurably the conclusions of our legal theorists when they have come to apply their own principles to determine the respective rights of kings and of peoples. Every reader of the third and fourth chapters of the first book of Grotius can see how that learned man and his translator, Barbeyrac, are trapped in their own sophisms, frightened of saying either too much or alternatively too little (according to their prejudices) and so offending the interests they wish to flatter. Grotius, a refugee in France, discontented with his own country and out to pay court to Louis XIII, to whom his book is dedicated, spares no pains to rob peoples of all their rights and to invest those rights, by every conceivable artifice, in kings. This would have been very much to the taste of Barbeyrac, who dedicated his translation of Grotius to the King of England, George Ⅰ. But unfortunately the expulsion of James Ⅱ — which Barbeyrac calls an 'abdication' — obliged him to speak with a marked reserve, to hesitate and equivocate, so as not to suggest that William Ⅲ was a usurper. If these two writers had adopted sound principles, all their difficulties would have vanished, and their arguments would have been logical; but then they would, alas for them, have told the truth and paid court only to the people. The truth brings no man a fortune; and it is not the people who hand out embassies, professorships and pensions.

CHAPTER 3

Whether the General Will Can Err

IT follows from what I have argued that the general will is always rightful and always tends to the public good; but it does not follows that the deliberations of the people are always equally right. We always want what is advantageous to us but we do not always discern it. The people is never corrupted, but it is often misled; and only then does it seem to will what is bad.

There is often a great difference between the will of all [what all individuals want] and the general will; the general will studies only the common interest while the will of all studies private interest, and is indeed no more than the sum of individual desires. But if we take away from these same wills, the pluses and minuses which cancel each other out, the balance which remains is the general will.【2】

From the deliberations of a people properly informed, and provided its members do not have any communication among themselves, the great number of small differences will always produce a general will and the decision will always be good. But if groups, sectional associations are formed at the expense of the larger association, the will of each of these groups will become general in relation to its own members and private in relation to the state; we might then say that there are no longer as many votes as there are men but only as many votes as there are groups. The differences become less numerous and yield a result less general. Finally, when one of these groups becomes so large that it can outweigh the rest, the result is no longer the sum of many small differences, but one great divisive difference; then there ceases to be a general will, and the opinion which prevails is no more than a private opinion.

Thus if the general will is to be clearly expressed, it is imperative that there should be no sectional associations in the state, and that every citizen should make up his own mind for himself【3】 — such was the unique and sublime invention of the great Lycurgus. But if there are sectional associations, it is wise to multiply their number and to prevent inequality among them, as Solon, Numa and Servius did. These are the only precautions which can ensure that the general will is always enlightened and the people protected from error.

CHAPTER 4

The Limits of Sovereign Power

IF the state, or the nation, is nothing other than an artificial person the life of which consists in the union of its members and if the most important of its cares is its preservation, it needs to have a universal and compelling power to move and dispose of each part in whatever manner is beneficial to the whole. Just as nature gives each man an absolute power over all his own limbs, the social pact gives the body politic an absolute power over all its members; and it is this same power which, directed by the general will, bears, as I have said, the name of sovereignty.

However, we have to consider beside the public person those private persons who compose it, and whose life and liberty are naturally independent of it. Hence we have to distinguish clearly the respective rights of the citizen and of the sovereign,【4】 and distinguish those duties which the citizens owe as subjects from the natural rights which they ought to enjoy as men.

We have agreed that each man alienates by the social pact only that part of his power, his goods and his liberty which is the concern of the community; but it must also be admitted that the sovereign alone is judge of what is of such concern.

Whatever services the citizen can render the state, he owes whenever the sovereign demands them; but the sovereign, on its side, may not impose on the subjects any burden which is not necessary to the community; the sovereign cannot, indeed, even will such a thing, since according to the law of reason no less than to the law of nature nothing is without a cause.

The commitments which bind us to the social body are obligatory only because they are mutual; and their nature is such that in fulfilling them a man cannot work for others without at the same time working for himself. How should it be that the general will is always rightful and that all men constantly wish the happiness of each but for the fact that there is no one who does not take that word 'each' to pertain to himself and in voting for all think of himself? This proves that the equality of rights and the notion of justice which it produces derive from the predilection which each man has for himself and hence from human nature as such. It also proves that the general will, to be truly what it is, must be general in its purpose as well as in its nature; that it should spring from all for it to apply to all; and that it loses its natural rectitude when it is directed towards any particular and circumscribed object — for in judging what is foreign to us, we have no sound principle of equity to guide us.

For, indeed, whenever we are dealing with a particular fact or right, on a matter which has not been settled by an earlier and general agreement, that question becomes contentious. It is a conflict in which private interests are ranged on one side and the public interest on the other; and I can see neither the law which is to be followed nor the judge who is to arbitrate. It would be absurd in such a dispute to rely on an express decision of the general will; for a decision could only be a conclusion in favour of one of the contending parties, and it would be regarded by the other party as an alien, partial will, a will liable in such circumstances to be unjust and so to fall into error. So we see that even as a private will cannot represent the general will, so too the general will changes its nature if it seeks to deal with an individual case; it cannot as a general will give a ruling concerning any one man or any one fact. When the people of Athens, for example, appointed or dismissed its leaders, awarding honours to one, inflicting penalties on another, and by a multitude of particular decrees indiscriminately exercised all the functions of an administration, then the people of Athens no longer had what is correctly understood as a general will and ceased to act as sovereign and acted instead as magistrate. All this may seem at variance with commonly accepted notions; but I must be given time to expound my own.

It should nevertheless be clear from what I have so far said that the general will derives its generality less from the number of voices than from the common interest which unites them — for the general will is an institution in which each necessarily submits himself to the same conditions which he imposes on others; this admirable harmony of interest and justice gives to social deliberations a quality of equity which disappears at once from the discussion of any individual dispute precisely because in these latter cases there is no common interest to unite and identify the decision of the judge with that of the contending parties.

Whichever way we look at it, we always return to the same conclusion: namely that the social pact establishes equality among the citizens in that they all pledge themselves under the same conditions and must all enjoy the same rights. Hence by the nature of the compact, every act of sovereignty, that is, every authentic act of the general will, binds or favours all the citizens equally, so that the sovereign recognizes only the whole body of the nation and makes no distinction between any of the members who compose it. What then is correctly to be called an act of sovereignty? It is not a covenant between a superior and an inferior, but a covenant of the body with each of its members. It is a legitimate covenant, because its basis is the social contract; an equitable one, because it is common to all; a useful one, because it can have no end but the common good; and it is a durable covenant because it is guaranteed by the armed forces and the supreme power. So long as the subjects submit to such covenants alone, they obey nobody but their own will; and to ask how far the respective rights of the sovereign and the citizen extend is to ask how far these two can pledge themselves together, each to all and all to each.

From this it is clear that the sovereign power, wholly absolute, wholly sacred, wholly inviolable as it is, does not go beyond and cannot go beyond the limits of the general covenants; and thus that every man can do what he pleases with such goods and such freedom as is left to him by these covenants; and from this it follows that the sovereign has never any right to impose greater burdens on one subject than on another, for whenever that happens the matter becomes private and is outside the sovereign's competence.

Granted these distinctions, it becomes manifestly false to assert that individuals make any real renunciation by the social contract; indeed, as a result of the contract they find themselves in a situation preferable in real terms to that which prevailed before; instead of an alienation, they have profitably exchanged an uncertain and precarious life for a better and more secure one; they have exchanged natural independence for freedom, the power to injure others for the enjoyment of their own security; they have exchanged their own strength which others might overcome for a right which the social union makes invincible. Their very lives, which they have pledged to the state, are always protected by it; and even when they risk their lives to defend the state, what more are they doing but giving back what they have received from the state? What are they doing that they would not do more often, and at greater peril, in the state of nature, where every man is inevitably at war and at the risk of his life, defends whatever serves him to maintain life? Assuredly, all must now fight in case of need for their country, but at least no one has any longer to fight for himself. And is there not something to be gained by running, for the sake of the guarantee of safety, a few of those risks we should each have to face alone if we were deprived of that assurance?

CHAPTER 5

The Right of Life and Death

IT will be asked how individuals, who have no right whatever to take their own lives, can transfer to the sovereign a right they do not possess. This question looks difficult to answer only because it is badly formulated. Every man has the right to risk his own life in order to preserve it. Has it ever been said that a man who leaps out of a window to escape from a fire is guilty of suicide? Would the same crime be imputed to a man who perishes in a storm on the grounds that he knew of the danger when he embarked?

The purpose of the social treaty is the preservation of the contracting parties. Whoever wills the end wills also the means, and certain risks, even certain casualties are inseparable from these means. Whoever wishes to preserve his own life at the expense of others must give his life for them when it is necessary. Now, as citizen, no man is judge any longer of the danger to which the law requires him to expose himself, and when the prince says to him: 'It is expedient for the state that you should die', then he should die, because it is only on such terms that he has lived in security as long as he has and also because his life is no longer the bounty of nature but a gift he has received conditionally from the state.

The death-penalty inflicted on criminals may be seen in much the same way: it is in order to avoid becoming the victim of a murderer that one consents to die if one becomes a murderer oneself. Far from taking one's life under the social treaty, one thinks only of assuring it, and we shall hardly suppose that any of the contracting parties contemplates being hanged.

Moreover, since every wrongdoer attacks the society's law, he becomes by his deed a rebel and a traitor to the nation; by violating its law, he ceases to be a member of it; indeed, he makes war against it. And in this case, the preservation of the state is incompatible with his preservation; one or the other must perish; and when the guilty man is put to death, it is less as a citizen than as an enemy. Trial and judgement are the proof and declaration that he has broken the social treaty, and is in consequence no longer a member of the state. And since he has accepted such membership, if only by his residence, he must either be banished into exile as a violator of the social pact or be put to death as a public enemy: such an enemy is not a fictitious person, but a man, and therefore the right of war makes it legitimate to kill him.

But, it will be said, the condemnation of a criminal is an individual act. Agreed; and it follows that such duties do not pertain to the sovereign; condemnation of criminals is a right the sovereign can confer but not exercise himself. All my ideas hold together, but I cannot elaborate them all at once.

In any case, frequent punishments are a sign of weakness or slackness in the government. There is no man so bad that he cannot be made good for something. No man should be put to death, even as an example, if he can be left to live without danger to society.

As for the right of pardon, or of exempting a guilty man from the penalty prescribed by law and imposed by a judge, this belongs only to that entity which is superior to both the judge and the law, namely the sovereign; but even this right is not entirely clear and it will be exercised very seldom. In a well-governed state few are punished, not because there are many pardons but because there are few criminals. In a decaying state the very multiplicity of crimes assures impunity. Under the Roman Republic neither the Senate nor the consuls ever attempted to pardon criminals; nor did the people do so, though they sometimes revoked their own sentences. Frequent pardons signalize that crimes will soon need no pardon; and anyone can see what that must lead to. However, I can feel my heart whispering and restraining my pen; let us leave the discussion of these questions to the just man who has never erred and has therefore had no need of pardons.

CHAPTER 6

On Law

WE have given life and existence to the body politic by the social pact; now it is a matter of giving it movement and will by legislation. For the original act by which the body politic is formed and united does not determine what it shall do to preserve itself.

What is good and in conformity with order is such by the very nature of things and independently of human agreements. All justice comes from God, who alone is its source; and if only we knew how to receive it from that exalted fountain, we should need neither governments nor laws. There is undoubtedly a universal justice which springs from reason alone, but if that justice is to be acknowledged as such it must be reciprocal. Humanly speaking, the laws of natural justice, lacking any natural sanction, are unavailing among men. In fact, such laws merely benefit the wicked and injure the just, since the just respect them while others do not do so in return. So there must be covenants and positive laws to unite rights with duties and to direct justice to its object. In the state of nature, where everything is common, I owe nothing to those to whom I have promised nothing, and I recognize as belonging to others only those things that are of no use to me. But this is no longer the case in civil society, where all rights are determined by law.

Yet what, in the last analysis, is law? If we simply try to define it in terms of metaphysical ideas, we shall go on talking without reaching any understanding; and when we have said what natural law is, we shall still not know what the law of the state is.

I have already said that the general will cannot relate to any particular object. For such a particular object is either within the state or outside the state. If it is outside, then a will which is alien to it is not general with regard to it: if the object is within the state, it forms a part of the state. Thus there comes into being a relationship between the whole and the part which involves two separate entities, the part being one, and the whole, less that particular part, being the other. But a whole less a particular part is no longer a whole; and so as long as this relationship exists there is no whole but only two unequal parts, from which it follows that the will of the one is no longer general with respect to the other.

But when the people as a whole makes rules for the people as a whole, it is dealing only with itself; and if any relationship emerges, it is between the entire body seen from one perspective and the same entire body seen from another, without any division whatever. Here the matter concerning which a rule is made is as general as the will which makes it. And this is the kind of act which I call a law.

When I say that the province of the law is always general, I mean that the law considers all subjects collectively and all actions in the abstract; it does not consider any individual man or any specific action. Thus the law may well lay down that there shall be privileges, but it may not nominate the persons who shall have those privileges; the law may establish several classes of citizen, and even specify the qualifications which shall give access to those several classes, but it may not say that this man or that shall be admitted; the law may set up a royal government and an hereditary succession, but it may not elect a king or choose a royal family — in a word, no function which deals with the individual falls within the province of the legislative power.

On this analysis, it is immediately clear that we can no longer ask who is to make laws, because laws are acts of the general will; no longer ask if the prince is above the law, because he is a part of the state; no longer ask if the law can be unjust, because no one is unjust to himself; and no longer ask how we can be both free and subject to laws, for the laws are but registers of what we ourselves desire.

It is also clear that since the law unites universality of will with universality of the field of legislation, anything that any man, no matter who, commands on his own authority is not a law; even what the sovereign itself commands with respect to a particular object is not a law but a decree, not an act of sovereignty but an act of government.

Any state which is ruled by law I call a 'republic', whatever the form of its constitution; for then, and then alone, does the public interest govern and then alone is the 'public thing' — the res publica — a reality. All legitimate government is 'republican'.【5】 I shall explain later what government is.

Laws are really nothing other than the conditions on which civil society exists. A people, since it is subject to laws, ought to be the author of them. The right of laying down the rules of society belongs only to those who form the society; but how can they exercise it? Is it to be by common agreement, by a sudden inspiration? Has the body politic an organ to declare its will? Who is to give it the foresight necessary to formulate enactments and proclaim them in advance, and how is it to announce them in the hour of need? How can a blind multitude, which often does not know what it wants, because it seldom knows what is good for it, undertake by itself an enterprise as vast and difficult as a system of legislation? By themselves the people always will what is good, but by themselves they do not always discern it. The general will is always rightful, but the judgement which guides it is not always enlightened. It must be brought to see things as they are, and sometimes as they should be seen; it must be shown the good path which it is seeking, and secured against seduction by the desires of individuals; it must be given a sense of situation and season, so as to weigh immediate and tangible advantages against distant and hidden evils. Individuals see the good and reject it; the public desires the good but does not see it. Both equally need guidance. Individuals must be obliged to subordinate their will to their reason; the public must be taught to recognize what it desires. Such public enlightenment would produce a union of understanding and will in the social body, bring the parts into perfect harmony and lift the whole to its fullest strength. Hence the necessity of a lawgiver.

CHAPTER 7

The Lawgiver

To discover the rules of society that are best suited to nations, there would need to exist a superior intelligence, who could understand the passions of men without feeling any of them, who had no affinity with our nature but knew it to the full, whose happiness was independent of ours, but who would nevertheless make our happiness his concern, who would be content to wait in the fullness of time for a distant glory, and to labour in one age to enjoy the fruits in another.【6】 Gods would be needed to give men laws.

The same reasoning which Caligula used empirically, Plato used philosophically in his dialogue The Statesman to reach a definition of civil or kingly man. But if it is true that great princes seldom appear, how much more rare must a great lawgiver be? A prince has only to follow a model which the lawgiver provides. The lawgiver is the engineer who invents the machine; the prince is merely the mechanic who sets it up and operates it. Montesquieu says that at the birth of political societies, it is the leaders of the republic who shape the institutions but that afterwards it is the institutions which shape the leaders of the republic.

Whoever ventures on the enterprise of setting up a people must be ready, shall we say, to change human nature, to transform each individual, who by himself is entirely complete and solitary, into a part of a much greater whole, from which that same individual will then receive, in a sense, his life and his being. The founder of nations must weaken the structure of man in order to fortify it, to replace the physical and independent existence we have all received from nature with a moral and communal existence. In a word each man must be stripped of his own powers, and given powers which are external to him, and which he cannot use without the help of others. The nearer men's natural powers are to extinction or annihilation, and the stronger and more lasting their acquired powers, the stronger and more perfect is the social institution. So much so, that if each citizen can do nothing whatever except through cooperation with others, and if the acquired power of the whole is equal to, or greater than, the sum of the natural powers of each of the individuals, then we can say that law-making has reached the highest point of perfection.

The lawgiver is, in every respect, an extraordinary man in the state. Extraordinary not only because of his genius, but equally because of his office, which is neither that of the government nor that of the sovereign. This office which gives the republic its constitution has no place in that constitution. It is a special and superior function which has nothing to do with empire over men; for just as he who has command over men must not have command over laws, neither must he who has command over laws have command over men; otherwise, the laws, being offspring of the legislator's passions, would often merely perpetuate his injustices, and partial judgements would inevitably vitiate the sanctity of his works.

When Lycurgus gave laws to his country, he began by abdicating his monarchical functions. It was the habit of most Greek cities to confer on foreigners the task of framing their laws. The modern republics of Italy have often copied this custom; the republic of Geneva did so, and found that it worked well.【7】 Rome in its happiest age saw all the crimes of the Tyranny revived within its borders, and came near to perishing simply because it had put both the legislative authority and the sovereign power in the same hands.

And yet even the decemvirs themselves never arrogated the right to make any law on their own authority alone. 'Nothing we propose to you,' they said to the people, 'can become law without your consent. Romans, be yourselves the authors of the laws which are to ensure your happiness.'

Thus the man who frames the laws has not nor ought to have any legislative right, and the people itself cannot, even should it wish, strip itself of this untransferable right; for, according to the fundamental compact, it is only the general will which binds individuals and there can be no assurance that an individual will is in conformity with the general will until it has submitted to the free suffrage of the people — I have said this already, but it is worth repeating.

And so we find in the work of the lawgiver two things which look contradictory — a task which is beyond human powers and a non-existent authority for its execution.

There is another difficulty which deserves mention. Those sages who insist on speaking in their own language to the vulgar instead of in the vulgar language will not be understood. For there are thousands of ideas which cannot be translated into the popular idiom. Perspectives which are general and goals remote are alike beyond the range of the common herd; it is difficult for the individual, who has no taste for any scheme of government but that which serves his private interest, to appreciate the advantages to be derived from the lasting austerities which good laws impose. For a newly formed people to understand wise principles of politics and to follow the basic rules of statecraft, the effect would have to become the cause; the social spirit which must be the product of social institutions would have to preside over the setting up of those institutions; men would have to have already become before the advent of law that which they become as a result of law. And as the lawgiver can for these reasons employ neither force nor argument, he must have recourse to an authority of another order, one which can compel without violence and persuade without convincing.

It is this which has obliged the founders of nations throughout history to appeal to divine intervention and to attribute their own wisdom to the Gods; for then the people, feeling subject to the laws of the state as they are to those of nature, and detecting the same hand in the creation of both man and the nation, obey freely and bear with docility the yoke of the public welfare.

This sublime reasoning, which soars above the heads of the common people, is used by the lawgiver when he puts his own decisions into the mouth of the immortals, thus compelling by divine authority persons who cannot be moved by human prudence.【8】 But it is not for every man to make the Gods speak, or to gain credence if he pretends to be an interpreter of the divine word. The lawgiver's great soul is the true miracle which must vindicate his mission. Any man can carve tablets of stone, or bribe an oracle, claim a secret intercourse with some divinity, train a bird to whisper in his ear, or discover some other vulgar means of imposing himself on the people. A man who can do such things may conceivably bring together a company of fools, but he will never establish an empire, and his bizarre creation will perish with him. Worthless tricks may set up transitory bonds, but only wisdom makes lasting ones. The Law of the Hebrews, which still lives, and that of the child of Ishmael which has ruled half the world for ten centuries, still proclaim today the greatness of the men who first enunciated them; and even though proud philosophy and the blind spirit of faction may regard them as nothing but lucky impostors, the true statesman sees, and admires in their institutions, the hand of that great and powerful genius which lies behind all lasting things.

Even so, we must not conclude from this, with Warburton, that religion and politics have the same purpose among men; it is simply that at the birth of nations, the one serves as the instrument of the other.

CHAPTER 8

The People

JUST as an architect who puts up a large building first surveys and tests the ground to see if it can bear the weight, so the wise lawgiver begins not by laying down laws good in themselves, but by finding out whether the people for whom the laws are intended is able to support them. Such reasoning led Plato to refuse to provide laws for the Arcadians or the Cyreneans, because he well knew that those peoples, being rich, would not tolerate equality. Crete, too, provides an example of good laws and bad men, for the people Milos tried to discipline were dominated by their vices.

The world has seen a thousand splendid nations that could not have accepted good laws, and even those that might have accepted them could have done so only for short periods of their long history. Nations,【9】 like men, are teachable only in their youth; with age they become incorrigible. Once customs are established and prejudices rooted, reform is a dangerous and fruitless enterprise; a people cannot bear to see its evils touched, even if only to be eradicated; it is like a stupid, pusillanimous invalid who trembles at the sight of a physician.

I am not denying that just as certain afflictions unhinge men's minds and banish their memory of the past, so there are certain violent epochs or revolutions in states which have the same effect on peoples that personal crises may have on individuals; only instead of forgetting the past, they look back on it in horror, and then the state, after being consumed by civil war, is born again, so to speak, from its own ashes, and leaps from the arms of death to regain the vigour of youth. Such was the experience of Sparta at the time of Lycurgus, of Rome after the Tarquins, and, in the modern world, of Holland and Switzerland after the expulsion of the tyrants.

But such events are unusual; they are exceptional cases to be explained by the special constitution of the states concerned. It could not even happen twice to the same people; because although a people can make itself free while it is still uncivilized, it cannot do so when its civil energies are worn out. Disturbances may then destroy a civil society without a revolution being able to restore it, so that as soon as the chains are broken, the state falls apart and exists no longer; then what is needed is a master, not a liberator. Free peoples, remember this maxim: liberty can be gained, but never regained.

For nations, as for men, there is a time of maturity which they must reach before they are made subject to law; but the maturity of a people is not always easily recognized; and something done too soon will prove abortive. Peoples differ; one is amenable to discipline from the beginning; another is not, even after ten centuries. The Russians will never be effectively governed because the attempt to govern them was made too early. Peter the Great had the talent of a copyist; he had no true genius, which is creative and makes everything from nothing. Some of the things he did were sound; most were misguided. He saw that his people was uncivilized, but he did not see that it was unready for government; he sought to civilize his subjects when he ought rather to have drilled them. He tried to turn them into Germans or Englishmen instead of making them Russians. He urged his subjects to be what they were not and so prevented them from becoming what they might have been. This is just how a French tutor trains his pupil to shine for a brief moment in his childhood and then grow up into a nonentity. The Russian Empire would like to subjugate Europe and will find itself subjugated. The Tartars, its subjects or neighbours, will become its masters — and ours. Such a revolution seems to me inevitable. All the kings of Europe are labouring in concert to hasten its coming.

CHAPTER 9

The People: Continued

JUST as nature has set bounds to the stature of a well-formed man, outside which he is either a giant or a dwarf, so, in what concerns the best constitution for a state, there are limits to the size it can have if it is to be neither too large to be well governed nor too small to maintain itself. In the body politic there is a maximum of strength which must not be exceeded, and which is often fallen short of as a result of expansion. The more the social bond is stretched, the slacker it becomes; and in general a small state is relatively stronger for its size than a large one.

A thousand considerations bear witness to the truth of this. First, administration becomes more difficult over great distances, just as a weight becomes heavier at the end of a long lever. Government becomes more burdensome as its area is enlarged, for each town has its own administration, which the people pays for, and each region has its administration, which the people also pays for, then each province has one, and so on up to the greater governments, the satrapies, the viceroyalties, each costing more the higher they rise and always paid for by the unfortunate populace; and then on top of all comes the supreme administration, bearing down on everyone. Such a great number of charges added to charges continually exhausts the subjects; and far from being better governed by this hierarchy of orders, they are much worse off than they would be if they had only one administration over them. As it is, there is hardly any public revenue available for emergencies, and when the state is faced with such a need, it trembles on the verge of ruin.

Nor is this all. Not only is the government less vigorous and swift in enforcing respect for the law, in preventing nuisances, correcting abuses and thwarting any seditious movements that may arise in distant quarters, but at the same time the people has less affection for governors whom it never sees, for a homeland that seems as vast as the world, and for fellow-citizens who are mostly strangers. The same laws will not suit so many various provinces, which, with their different customs and contrasting climates, cannot tolerate the same form of government. Having different laws only creates misunderstanding and confusion among peoples who live under the same governors and are in continuous communication with one another; they intermingle and intermarry, but if different sets of rules prevail, they will not even know if what they call their patrimony is really their own. Talents are hidden, virtues are ignored and vices remain unpunished when such a multitude of men, who do not know one another, is brought together in the same place by one single seat of supreme administration. The governors have too much to do to see everything for themselves; their clerks rule the state. And the measures needed to maintain a general authority, which so many scattered officials try to evade or exploit, absorb all political attention, so none is left to study the people's happiness, and hardly any left for its defence in case of need. This body which is too big for its constitution collapses and perishes, crushed by its own weight.

On the other hand, a state if it is to have strength must give itself some solid foundation, so that it can resist the shocks that it is bound to experience and sustain the exertions that it must make to preserve itself; for all peoples generate a kind of centrifugal force, by which they brush continuously against one another, and they all attempt to expand at the expense of their neighbours, like the vortices of Descartes. Thus the weak are always in danger of being swallowed up, and indeed no people can well preserve itself except by achieving a kind of equilibrium with all the others which makes the pressure everywhere the same for all.

This shows us that there are reasons for expansion and reasons for contraction; and indeed it is not the least part of political wisdom to judge, as between the one and the other, the precise balance which is most conducive to the preservation of the state. In general one might say that any reasons for expansion, which are exterior and relative, ought to be less compelling than the reasons for contraction, which are internal and absolute. A strong and healthy constitution is the first thing to look for because the strength which comes from good government is more reliable than the resources which large territories yield.

One may add that there have been states whose political structure was such that the necessity of conquest was part of their very constitution, states which, in order to maintain themselves at all, were obliged to enlarge themselves unceasingly. Possibly they have congratulated themselves on this, as a fortunate necessity; but reflection on the same necessity must also have shown them that at the end of their greatness lay the inevitable moment of their fall.

CHAPTER 10

The People: Continued

THERE are two ways of measuring a body politic, by the extent of its territory and by the number of its people; and there must be a certain balance between these two dimensions if the state is to achieve its best size. Men make the state and the soil nourishes men; thus the right balance requires that there be land enough to feed the inhabitants and as many inhabitants as the land can feed. It is in this proportion that the maximum strength of a given number of persons is brought forth; for if there is too much territory, care of it is burdensome, cultivation inadequate and produce excessive; and this soon becomes the cause of defensive wars; while if, on the other hand, there is too little land, the state must live on what it can import at the discretion of its neighbours, and this soon becomes the cause of offensive wars. Any people which has to choose between commerce and war is essentially weak; it depends on its neighbours; it depends on contingencies; it will never have more than a short, uncertain existence; either it conquers and ends its predicament, or it is conquered and exists no more. It can safeguard itself in freedom only by means of littleness or bigness.

One cannot specify the exact mathematical proportion there should be between the area of the land and the number of inhabitants, because of the different characteristics of different places, differences in degrees of fertility, in the nature of the produce, in the effects of climate; and also because of the differences there are between the temperaments of men who inhabit the different territories, some consuming little in a fertile country and others living well off a frugal soil. Again we should have to consider the greater or lesser fecundity of the women, the distinctive features of the land, whether more or less favourable to population; the number of immigrants that the lawgiver might hope to attract by his institutions. From this it follows that he must make his decisions in the light not of what he sees, but of what he foresees, calculating not so much the number of the existing population as the number which the population must naturally reach. Finally, there are a thousand occasions when some particular accident of situation demands or allows the assimilation of more land than appears necessary. In a mountainous country, where the type of cultivation — woodland and pastures — requires less work, where the women are shown by experience to be more fecund than in the plains, and where the steep slopes of hills leave only a marginal degree of that flat land which alone can be relied on for vegetation, men will spread out more widely. The contrary is the case on the edge of the sea, where men will draw together in a small area, even among rocks and sands that are almost barren; for fishing can make up for much of the deficiency of agricultural produce; and being close together enables such men the better to resist pirates; and they can easily rid themselves by overseas settlement of any surplus population.

There is yet another condition for the institution of a people, one condition which no other can replace and without which all the rest are unavailing: a peace and plenty must be enjoyed; for the period of the formation of a state, like that of the lining up of a regiment, is the time when it is least capable of resistance and most open to destruction. A state can defend itself more effectively amid total chaos than during the time of fermentation, when everyone is thinking about his own position and not about the common danger. If there is a war, famine or sedition during this critical period, the state will inevitably be overthrown.

It is true that many governments have been set up during such disturbances, but then it is the governments themselves which destroy the state. Usurpers always choose troubled times to enact, in the atmosphere of general panic, laws which the public would never adopt when passions were cool. One of the surest ways of distinguishing the work of a lawgiver from that of a tyrant is to note the moment he chooses to give a people its constitution.

Which people, then, is fit to receive laws? I answer: a people which, finding itself already bound together by some union of origin, interest or convention, has not yet borne the yoke of law; a people without deep-rooted customs or superstitions; one which does not fear sudden invasion, and which, without intervening in the quarrels of its neighbours, can stand up to any of them, or secure the help of one to resist another; a people in which every member may be known to all; where there is no need to burden any man with more than he can bear; a people which can do without other peoples and which other peoples can do without;【10】 one which is neither rich nor poor, but has enough to keep itself; and lastly one which combines the cohesion of an ancient people with the malleability of a new one. What makes the task of the lawgiver so difficult is less what has to be established than what has to be destroyed; and what makes success so rare is the impossibility of finding the simplicity of nature together with the needs that society creates. It is difficult to combine all these conditions; and that is why so few well-constituted states exist.

There is still one country in Europe which is fit to receive laws, and that is the island of Corsica. The valour and fidelity with which this brave people has recovered and defended its freedom entitle it to be taught by some wise man how to preserve that freedom. I have a presentiment that this little island will one day astonish Europe.

CHAPTER 11

Various Systems of Law

IF we enquire wherein lies precisely the greatest good of all, which ought to be the goal of every system of law, we shall find that it comes down to two main objects, freedom and equality: freedom because any individual dependence means that much strength withdrawn from the body of the state, and equality because freedom cannot survive without it.

I have already explained what civil freedom is; as for equality, this word must not be taken to imply that degrees of power and wealth should be absolutely the same for all, but rather that power shall stop short of violence and never be exercised except by virtue of authority and law, and, where wealth is concerned, that no citizen shall be rich enough to buy another and none so poor as to be forced to sell himself; this in turn implies that the more exalted persons need moderation in goods and influence and the humbler persons moderation in avarice and covetousness.【11】

Such equality, we shall be told, is a chimera of theory and could not exist in reality. But if abuse is inevitable, ought we not then at least to control it? Precisely because the force of circumstance tends always to destroy equality, the force of legislation ought always to tend to preserve it.

However, these general objectives of all institutions must be modified in each country to meet local conditions and suit the character of the people concerned. It is in the light of such factors that one must assign to each people the particular form of constitution which is best, not perhaps in itself, but for that state for which it is destined. For example, is your soil meagre and barren or the territory too narrow for its inhabitants? Then look to industry and crafts, so that manufactured goods may be exchanged for the natural resources that are lacking. Suppose, on the other hand, you have rich plains and fertile slopes, good land too little inhabited. Then concentrate on agriculture, to increase the population, and eschew artisanry, which invariably depopulates the countryside and brings the few inhabitants there are together in certain urban centres.【12】 Have you a long and convenient coastline? Then fill the sea with ships, develop trade and navigation, and you will have a brilliant if short existence. Does the sea, along your shores, wash against almost inaccessible rocks? Then remain ichthyphagous barbarians; you will live more peacefully, better perhaps, and certainly more happily. In short, apart from those principles which are common to all, each people has its special reasons for adopting these principles in its own way and for having laws that are fitted to itself alone. Thus it was, in the past, that the Hebrews, and more recently the Arabs, took religion as their chief object, while the Athenians had literature, Carthage and Tyre trade, Rhodes seafaring, Sparta war, and Rome civic virtue. The author of L'Esprit des lois has shown with scores of examples how the art of the lawgiver directs the constitution towards each of its ends.

What makes the constitution of a state really strong and durable is such a close observance of conventions that natural relations and laws come to be in harmony on all points, so that the law, shall we say, seems only to ensure, accompany and correct what is natural. But if the lawgiver mistakes his object and builds on principles that differ from what is demanded by the circumstances; if his principle tends towards servitude while circumstances tend towards liberty, the one towards wealth and the other towards increased population, the one towards peace and the other towards conquest, then the laws will be weakened imperceptibly, the constitution will deteriorate, and the state will continue to be disturbed until it is finally destroyed or transformed, and invincible Nature regains her empire.

CHAPTER 12

Classification of Laws

FOR everything to be well ordered and the best possible form given to the republic, there are various relations to be considered. First, there is the action of the whole body politic on itself, that is to say, the relation of all with all, or of the sovereign with the state, and this relation, as we shall see, is made up of relations between intermediary bodies.

The laws which regulate this relation bear the name of Political Laws, and are also called Fundamental Laws — not unreasonably, if the laws are wise ones. For if in each state there is only one good way of regulating it, the people which has found that way ought to keep to it. But if the established order is bad, why should the laws which prevent its being good be regarded as fundamental? Besides, a people is in any case entirely at liberty to alter its laws, even its best laws; and if it chooses to do itself an injury, who has the right to prevent it from doing so?

The second relation is that of the members of the body politic among themselves, or of each with the entire body: their relations among themselves should be as limited, and relations with the entire body as extensive, as possible, in order that each citizen shall be at the same time perfectly independent of all his fellow citizens and excessively dependent on the republic — this result is always achieved by the same means, since it is the power of the state alone which makes the freedom of its members. It is from this second relationship that Civil Laws are born.

We may consider a third kind of relation between the person and the law, namely that of disobedience and its penalty. It is this which gives rises to the establishment of Criminal Laws, though at bottom these are less a specific kind of law than the sanction behind all laws.

To these three sorts of law must be added a fourth, the most important of all, which is inscribed neither on marble nor brass, but in the hearts of the citizens, a law which forms the true constitution of the state, a law which gathers new strength every day and which, when other laws age or wither away, reanimates or replaces them; a law which sustains a nation in the spirit of its institution and imperceptibly substitutes the force of habit for the force of authority. I refer to morals, customs and, above all, belief: this feature, unknown to our political theorists, is the one on which the success of all the other laws depends; it is the feature on which the great law-giver bestows his secret care, for though he seems to confine himself to detailed legal enactments, which are really only the arching of the vault, he knows that morals, which develop more slowly, ultimately become its immovable keystone.

Among these various classes of law, it is only Political Laws, which constitute the form of government, that are relevant to my subject.

Note

【1】 For the will to be general, it does not always have to be unanimous; but all the votes must be counted. Any formal exclusion destroys its universality.

【2】 'Every interest,' says the Marquis d'Argenson, 'has its different principles. Harmony between two interests is created by opposition to that of a third.' He might have added that the harmony of all interests is created by opposition to those of each. If there were no different interests, we should hardly be conscious of a common interest, as there would be no resistance to it; everything would run easily of its own accord, and politics would cease to be an art.

【3】 'Divisions,' says Machiavelli, 'sometimes injure and sometimes aid a republic. The injury is done by cabals and factions; the service is rendered by a party which maintains itself without cabals and factions. Since, therefore, it is impossible for the founder of a republic to provide against enmities, he must make the best provision he can against factions.' History of Florence, Book Ⅶ.

【4】 Please, attentive reader, do not hasten to accuse me of contradiction. I cannot avoid a contradiction of words, because of the poverty of language; but wait.

【5】 By this word I understand not only an aristocracy or democracy, but generally any government directed by the general will, which is law. If it is to be legitimate, the government must not be united with the sovereign, but must serve it as its ministry. So even a monarchy can be a republic. This will be clarified in Book Ⅲ.

【6】 A people does not become famous until its constitution begins to decline. We do not know for how many centuries the constitution of Lycurgus gave happiness to the Spartans before there was talk about them in the rest of Greece.

【7】 Those who think of Calvin merely as a theologian do not realize the extent of his genius. The codification of our wise edicts, in which he had a large share, does him as much credit as his Institutes. Whatever revolutions may take place in our church, the memory of that great man will not cease to be honoured among the adepts of that religion while the love of country and of liberty still lives among us.

【8】 'The truth is,' writes Machiavelli, 'that there has never been in any country an extraordinary legislator who has not invoked the deity; for otherwise his laws would not have been accepted. A wise man knows many useful truths which cannot be demonstrated in such a way as to convince other people.' (Discourses on Livy, Book Ⅴ, Chapter xi.) [In Italian in original. Trans.]

【9】 (Altered in Edition of 1782 to 'Most nations...' Trans.)

【10】 If two neighbouring peoples cannot do without one another the situation is hard for the one and dangerous for the other. Any wise nation, in such a case, will hasten to deliver the other from its dependence. The republic of Thlascala, an enclave within the Mexican Empire, preferred to do without salt rather than buy it from the Mexicans, rather even than take it from them when it was offered as a gift. The wise Thlascalians saw the trap concealed in the Mexican generosity. They kept their freedom; and their little state, locked within the territory of a great Empire, was in the end the instrument of that Empire's ruin.

【11】 Do you want coherence in the state? Then bring the two extremes as close together as possible; have neither very rich men nor beggars, for these two estates, naturally inseparable, are equally fatal to the common good; from the one class come friends of tyranny, from the other, tyrants. It is always these two classes which make commerce of the public freedom: the one buys, the other sells.

【12】 Any branch of foreign trade, says the Marquis d'Argenson, brings only an illusory advantage to the kingdom in general; it may enrich a few individuals, even a few big towns, but the nation as a whole gains nothing and the people is none the better for it.

Book Ⅲ

BEFORE speaking of the various forms of government, let us try to fix the precise meaning of this word, which has not hitherto been very well explained.

CHAPTER 1

Of Government in General

I MUST warn the reader that this chapter should be read with care, for I have not the skill to make myself clear to those who do not wish to concentrate their attention.

Every free action has two causes which concur to produce it, one moral — the will which determines the act, the other physical — the strength which executes it. When I walk towards an object, it is necessary first that I should resolve to go that way and secondly that my feet should carry me. When a paralytic resolves to run and when a fit man resolves not to move, both stay where they are. The body politic has the same two motive powers — and we can make the same distinction between will and strength, the former is legislative power and the latter executive power. Nothing can be, or should be, done in the body politic without the concurrence of both.

We have seen that the legislative power belongs, and can only belong, to the people. On the other hand, it is easy to see from principles established above [Book Ⅱ, Chapters 4 and 6] that executive power cannot belong to the generality of the people as legislative or sovereign, since executive power is exercised only in particular acts which are outside the province of law and therefore outside the province of the sovereign which can act only to make laws.

The public force thus needs its own agent to call it together and put it into action in accordance with the instructions of the general will, to serve also as a means of communication between the state and the sovereign, and in a sense to do for the public person what is done for the individual by the union of soul and body. This is the reason why the state needs a government, something often unhappily confused with the sovereign, but of which it is really only the minister.

What, then, is the government? An intermediary body established between the subjects and the sovereign for their mutual communication, a body charged with the execution of the laws and the maintenance of freedom, both civil and political.

The members of this body are called magistrates or kings, that is to say governors, and the whole body bears the name of prince.【1】 Thus, those theorists who deny that the act by which a people submits itself to leaders is a contract are wholly correct. For that act is nothing other than a commission, a form of employment in which the governors, as simple officers of the sovereign, exercise in its name the power it has placed in their hands, a power which the sovereign can limit, modify and resume at pleasure, since the alienation of such a right would be incompatible with the nature of the social body and contrary to the purpose of the social union.

I therefore call 'government' or 'supreme administration' the legitimate exercise of the executive power, and I call 'prince' or 'magistrate' the man or the body charged with that administration.

It is in the government that we may discern those intermediary forces whose relations constitute those of all with all, or of the sovereign with the state. This last relation can be depicted as one between the first and last terms of a geometric progression, of which the geometric mean is the government. The government receives from the sovereign the orders which it gives to the people; and if the state is to be well balanced, it is necessary, all things being weighed, that the product of the power of the government multiplied by itself should equal the product or the power of the citizens who are sovereign in one sense and subjects in another.

Furthermore, no one of these three terms can be changed without destroying the ratio. If the sovereign seeks to govern, or if the magistrate seeks to legislate, or if the subjects refuse to obey, then order gives way to chaos, power and will cease to act in concert, and the state, disintegrating, will lapse either into despotism or into anarchy. Lastly, as there is only one geometrical mean between two extremes, there is only one good government possible for any state; but as a thousand events may change the relations within a nation, different governments may not only be good for different peoples, but good for the same people at different times.

To try to give some idea of the various relations which may exist between the two extremes, I shall take as an example the number of the people, as this is a relation easily expressed as a ratio.

Suppose the state is made up of ten thousand citizens. The sovereign can only be considered collectively and as a body, but every member as a subject has to be considered as an individual. Thus the sovereign is to the subject as ten thousand is to one, that is to say, each single member of the state has as his own share only a ten-thousandth part of the sovereign authority, although he submits himself entirely to it. Now if the people is increased to a hundred thousand men, the position of each subject is unaltered, for each bears equally with the rest the whole empire of the laws, while as sovereign his share of the suffrage is reduced to one hundred-thousandth, so that he has ten times less influence in the formulation of the laws. Hence, while the subject remains always one single individual, the ratio of sovereign to subject increases according to the number of citizens. Whence it follows that the more the state is enlarged, the more freedom is diminished.

When I say that the ratio increases, I mean that it is farther removed from unity. So the greater ratio in the mathematical sense, the smaller the relationship in the popular sense; for in the former, the ratio, considered according to this, is measured by the quotient, whereas in the latter, the relationship, considered according to identity, is judged by similarity.

The smaller the relationship between the particular wills and the general will, that is, between the people's morals and the law, the more repressive force will have to be employed. Hence, for the government to be good, its strength must be increased to the extent that the people is more numerous.

In proportion as the enlargement of the state means offering the holders of public authority more temptations and more opportunities to abuse their power, it follows that the more power the government needs to control the people, the more power the sovereign needs, in its turn, to control the government. I am speaking here not of an absolute power, but of the relative power of the different elements in the state.

It follows from this dual relationship that the geometric progression between sovereign, prince and people is by no means an arbitrary idea, but a necessary consequence of the nature of the body politic. It follows further that one of the terms, namely the people as subject, is represented by unity, every time the square of the ratio is increased or diminished, the simple ratio increases or diminishes in the same way, and the middle term, the government, is in consequence changed. This shows that there is no one unique and absolute constitution of government, but that there may be as many different kinds of government as there are states of different sizes.

If anyone, wishing to ridicule this system, suggested that in order to find this geometrical mean and construct the body of the government one need only on my view take the square root of the number of the people, I should reply that I am here using numbers only as an example; and the ratios of which I speak are not measured merely by the number of men but more generally by the amount of activity, which results from the concurrence of innumerable causes; I should add that although I have borrowed momentarily for the sake of expressing myself in fewer words, the language of mathematics, I am still well aware that mathematical precision has no place in moral calculations.

The government is in small what the body politic (which includes it) is in large. It is a fictitious person endowed with certain faculties, active like the sovereign, passive like the state; and it can be broken down into similar relations; in consequence these relations yield a new ratio; and within each we can continue the process of analysis according to the order of the magistracies until we reach a single indivisible middle term, that is, a single chief or supreme magistrate, who may be shown at the centre of this geometrical progression, as the unifying term between the series of fractions and the series of whole numbers.

Without burdening ourselves with such a multiplication of terms, let us simply consider the government as a new body within the state, distinct from both people and sovereign and intermediary between the two.

There is this essential difference between the two bodies — the state exists in itself while the government exists only through the sovereign. Thus the dominant will of the prince is, or ought to be, only the general will or the law, and his force nothing other than the public force concentrated in his hands; as soon as he resolves to perform on his own authority some absolute and independent act, the union of all begins to slacken. And if in the end it comes about that the prince has a particular will more active than that of the sovereign, and if, to enforce obedience to this particular will, he uses the public force which is in his hands, with the result that there are, so to speak, two sovereigns, one de jure and the other de facto, then the social bond vanishes at once and the body politic is dissolved.

Even so, for the body of the government to have an existence, a real life distinct from the body of the state, and for all its members to be able to act in concert and serve the purpose for which the government has been set up, it must have a particular ego, a consciousness common to its members, a force, a will of its own tending to its preservation. Such a particular existence implies assemblies, councils, a power to deliberate and determine rights, titles, and privileges which belongs exclusively to the prince, and which should make the position of the magistrate the more honourable in proportion to the extent to which it is the more arduous. The difficulty is to find a method of ordering this subordinate whole within the greater whole, so that it does not weaken the general constitution while strengthening its own, and so that its private force, designed for its own preservation, shall always be distinct from the public force, designed for the preservation of the state; in short, so that it will always be ready to sacrifice the government to the people and not the people to the government.

Moreover, even though the artificial body of the government is the work of another equally artificial body, and even though it has only a kind of borrowed and subordinate life, this does not prevent its being able to act with greater or less vigour and speed, and enjoying, so to speak, a health that may be more robust or less. Lastly, without departing directly from the purposes for which it has been set up, it may deviate from them in varying degrees according to the manner in which it has been constituted.

It is all these differences which give rise to the various relations that ought to exist between the government and the body of the state, in accordance with the fortuitous and particular relations by which this same state is changed. For often the government which is in itself the best becomes the most evil unless its relations with the state are modified to meet the defects of the body politic to which it belongs.

CHAPTER 2

The Constitutive Principle of the Different Forms of Government

To explain the general reason for these differences, it is necessary to distinguish here between the prince and the government, as I have already distinguished between the state and the sovereign.

The body of the magistrates may be composed of a greater or lesser number of members. We have already observed that the ratio of sovereign to subjects is greater to the extent that the people are more numerous, and by an obvious analogy we can say the same of the government in relation to the magistrates.

As the total power of the government is at all times that of the state, it never varies; and from this it follows that the more force the government exerts over its own members, the less there remains for it to use over the whole people.

Hence the more numerous the magistrates, the weaker the government. As this principle is fundamental, let us try to make it clearer.

We may distinguish in the person of the magistrate three essentially different wills. First, there is the will which belongs to him as an individual, and tends only to his personal advantage. Secondly, there is the collective will of the magistrates; this is concerned only with the advantage of the prince, and might be called the corporate will, since it is general vis-à-vis the government and particular vis-à-vis the state of which the government is a part. Thirdly, there is the will of the people or the sovereign will, which is general both with regard to the state considered as a whole and with regard to the government considered as part of the whole.

In a perfect system of legislation, the individual or particular will would be nonexistent, the government's own corporate will very subordinate, and the general or sovereign will therefore always dominant and always the sole regulator of all the others.

In the order of nature, on the contrary, these different wills become the more active the more they are self-centred. Hence, the general will is always the weakest, the corporate will takes second place, and the particular will comes first of all; so much so, that within the government, each member is primarily a private self, secondly a magistrate, and thirdly a citizen. This sequence is exactly the reverse of what the social order demands.

That being so, let us suppose that the government is in the hands of a single individual. Then the particular will and the corporate will will be perfectly united, and the corporate will accordingly raised to its highest possible degree of intensity. Now, since the exercise of power depends on the degree of will, and since the absolute power of the government is invariable, it follows that the most active government is that of one man.

If, on the other hand, we combine the government and the legislative authority, make the prince the sovereign, and each citizen a magistrate — then the corporate will, being merged in the general will, will be no more active than the general will, and so leave the particular will to command the totality of power. Thus the government, having always the same absolute strength, will be left with a minimum of relative strength and activity.

These relations are indisputable, and other considerations add further confirmation. It is clear, for example, that each magistrate is more active within the body of the government than is each citizen within the body of the state, and hence that the particular will has more influence over the acts of the government than it has over those of the sovereign, for every magistrate is nearly always entrusted with some distinct function of government, while no citizen, taken singly, has any distinct function of sovereignty. Besides, the more the state expands, the more its real strength is increased, though not in proportion to its expansion; but if the state remains the same size, the magistrates can be multiplied without the government gaining thereby any real strength, since its strength is that of the state, which is always the same. In this way the relative strength or activity of the government diminishes without there being any possibility of its absolute or real power increasing.

Again, there is no doubt that the dispatch of public business becomes slower in proportion as there are more persons responsible for it; attaching too much importance to prudence, large bodies attach too little to luck; they miss opportunities, and they deliberate so long that they lose the profits of deliberation.

I have just shown that the government slackens to the extent that the magistrates are multiplied, and I showed earlier that the more numerous the people, the more the repressive force must increase. From this it follows that the ratio of magistrates to government should be the inverse of the ratio of subjects to sovereign; that is to say, the more the state is enlarged, the more the government must reduce its ranks, so that the number of magistrates diminishes in proportion to the increase of the people.

I should add that I am speaking here of the relative strength of the government and not the quality of its behaviour; for, on the contrary, the more numerous the magistrates, the closer their corporate will approaches the general will, while under a single magistrate that same corporate will is, as I have said, only a particular will. Thus there is lost on the one side what could be gained on the other; and the art of the lawgiver is to know how to settle the point at which the strength and the will of the government, which always stand in inverse ratio, can be combined in the proportion most beneficial to the state.

CHAPTER 3

Classification of Governments

IN the preceding chapter we saw why the different types or forms of government are distinguished according to the number of members who compose them; it remains to be seen in the present chapter how this classification is made.

First, the sovereign may put the government in the hands of the whole people, or of the greater part of the people, so that there are more citizen-magistrates than there are ordinary private citizens. This form of government is known as democracy.

Alternatively, the sovereign may confine the government to the hands of a few, so that there are more ordinary citizens than there are magistrates: this form of government is called aristocracy.

Yet again, the sovereign may concentrate the entire government in the hands of one single magistrate, from whom all the others will derive their power. This third form of government is the most common, and is called monarchy or royal government.

It should be noticed that all these forms, or at any rate the first two, can be had in greater or lesser degrees; they have a fairly marked elasticity. Democracy may include all the people or it may be limited so as to include only half. Aristocracy in its turn may extend to half the people or be limited to the smallest possible number. Even royal government can to some extent be shared. Sparta had always two kings according to its constitution, and the Roman Empire is known to have had as many as eight Emperors at once without it being true to say that the Empire was divided. Thus there is always a point at which each form of government overlaps the next form; and it is clear that although government has only three names, it is actually open to as many variations of form as the state has citizens.

Moreover, since a government is able in certain respects to divide itself into separate parts, one administered in one way and the other in another way, the three forms of government may be combined to yield a multitude of mixed forms, each of which it can multiply by the three simple forms.

Throughout the ages men have debated the question 'What is the best form of government?', and yet they have failed to see that each of the possible forms is the best in some cases and the worst in others.

If in each particular state the number of supreme magistrates should be in inverse ratio to the number of citizens, it follows that, in general, democratic government suits small states, aristocratic government suits states of intermediate size and monarchy suits large states. This rule follows directly from our axiom; but how are we to calculate the multitude of particular circumstances which may offer exceptions to the rule?

CHAPTER 4

Democracy

HE who makes the law knows better than anyone how it should be executed and interpreted. So it might seem that there could be no better constitution than one which united the executive power with the legislative; in fact, this very union makes that form of government deficient in certain respects, for things which ought to be kept apart are not, and the prince and the sovereign being the same person constitute, so to speak, a government without government.

It is not good that he who makes the law should execute it or that the body of the people should turn its attention away from general perspectives and give it to particular objects. Nothing is more dangerous in public affairs than the influence of private interests, and the abuse of the law by the government is a lesser evil than that corruption of the legislator which inevitably results from the pursuit of private interests. When this happens, the state is corrupted in its very substance and no reform is possible. A people which never misused the powers of government would never misuse independence, and a people which always governed itself well would not need to be governed.

In the strict sense of the term, there has never been a true democracy, and there never will be. It is contrary to the natural order that the greater number should govern and the smaller number be governed. One can hardly imagine that all the people would sit permanently in an assembly to deal with public affairs; and one can easily see that they could not appoint commissions for that purpose without the form of administration changing.

I believe indeed that one can lay down as an axiom that when the functions of government are divided between several commissions, those with the fewest members acquire sooner or later the greatest authority, if only because the facility of dispatching business leads naturally in that direction.

Besides, how many things that are difficult to have at the same time does the democratic form of government not presuppose? First, a very small state, where the people may be readily assembled and where each citizen may easily know all the others. Secondly, a great simplicity of manners and morals, to prevent excessive business and thorny discussions. Thirdly, a large measure of equality in social rank and fortune, without which equality in rights and authority will not last long. Finally, little or no luxury; for luxury is either the effect of riches or it makes riches necessary; it corrupts both the rich and the poor; it surrenders the country to indolence and vanity; it deprives the state of all its citizens by making some the slaves of others and all the slaves of opinion.

This is why a celebrated author has made virtue the cardinal principle of a republic; for all the conditions that I have named cannot prevail without virtue. But this same great genius, having failed to make the necessary distinctions, was often wrong and sometimes obscure, and failed to see that since the sovereign authority is everywhere the same, the same principles should have a place in every well-constituted state, though to a greater or lesser extent, assuredly, according to the form of the government.

We may add that there is no government so liable to civil war and internecine strife as is democracy or popular government, for there is none which has so powerful and constant a tendency to change to another form or which demands so much vigilance and courage to maintain it unchanged. It is under this constitution, more than others, that the citizen must be armed with strength and fidelity, and repeat from the bottom of his heart every day of his life the words a virtuous Palatine【2】 once spoke in the Diet of Poland: 'Malo periculosam libertatem quam quietum servitium.'【3】

If there were a nation of Gods, it would govern itself democratically. A government so perfect is not suited to men.

CHAPTER 5

Aristocracy

WE have here two distinct artificial persons, namely the government and the sovereign, and therefore two general wills, one belonging to all the citizens, and the other to members of the administration only. Thus, although the government may regulate its interior discipline as it pleases, it can never speak to the people except in the name of the sovereign, that is, in the name of the people itself — something that must never be forgotten.

The first societies were governed aristocratically. The heads of families deliberated on public business among themselves; the young people yielded willingly to the authority of experience. Hence the names of priests, elders, the senate, gerontes. The savages of North America still retain today this method of government, and they are very well governed.

But to the extent that artificial inequality came to prevail over natural inequality, riches and power【4】 came to be preferred to age, and aristocracy became elective. Lastly, the bequeathing of power together with property by fathers to their children made families patrician and so made government hereditary; and then there appeared senators aged twenty.

There are thus three types of aristocracy, natural, elective and hereditary. The first is suited only to primitive peoples; the third is the worst of all governments; the second is the best, and this is aristocracy in the true sense of the word.

Aristocracy has not only the advantage of distinguishing between the sovereign and the government, it has also the advantage of selecting its magistrates. Under popular government all the citizens are born magistrates, while this other system limits itself to a small number of magistrates, every one of whom is elected,【5】 a method which makes honesty, sagacity, experience and all the other grounds of popular preference and esteem further guarantees of wise government.

Besides, assemblies can be more easily arranged, business can be better discussed and be dispatched with more order and diligence; the credit of the state is better upheld in the eyes of foreigners by venerable senators than it is by an unknown and despised multitude.

In a word, it is the best and most natural arrangement for the wisest to govern the multitude, if we are sure that they will govern it for its advantage and not for their own. One ought never to multiply devices uselessly, or employ twenty thousand men to do what a hundred picked men could do much better. But it must be noted that the corporate interest begins at this point to direct the forces of the state less strictly in accordance with the general will, and that a further inevitable tendency is for a part of the executive power to escape the control of law.

As for the circumstances which suit this form of government, it is not necessary to have the state so small or the people so simple and upright that the execution of the law follows directly from the public will, as is the case in a good democracy. Nor must the nation be so large that the magistrates, being widely scattered, have to take upon themselves some of the powers of the sovereign, each in his own region; and so begin by making themselves independent and end by becoming masters.

But if aristocracy calls for rather fewer virtues than does popular government, it still calls for virtues of its own, such as moderation among the rich and contentment among the poor; for it seems that strict equality would be out of place; it was not observed even in Sparta.

Moreover, if this form of government involves a certain inequality of wealth, it is good that the administration of public affairs be entrusted to those who can best give all their time to it, and not, as Aristotle asserted, so that the rich should always be chosen. On the contrary, it is necessary that an opposite choice should occasionally teach people that merit is a more important qualification than riches for preferment.

CHAPTER 6

Monarchy

So far we have considered the prince as a collective and artificial person, unified by the force of the law and acting as trustee of executive power in the state. We have now to consider that power being held in the hands of a natural person, a real man, one having the sole right to exercise it according to the law. Such a man is known as a monarch or king.

Contrary to the other administrations, where a collective being represents an individual, in this one an individual represents a collective being; so that the moral unity which constitutes the prince is at the same time a physical unity, bringing together naturally those faculties which the law brings together with such difficulty in the other forms of administration.

Thus the will of the people and the will of the prince, the public force of the state and the individual power of the government, all respond to the same mover; all the levers of the machine are in the same hands; all act towards the same end; there are no conflicting movements to counteract one another, and we cannot imagine any constitution where more action would be produced by less effort. Archimedes sitting quietly on the shore and effortlessly launching a large ship is the model of a skilful monarch governing his vast kingdom from his chamber and making everything move while he himself seems motionless.

But if there is no government more vigorous than monarchy, there is also none where the particular will has more command, and more easily dominates the other wills. Everything moves towards the same end, it is true, but that end is not the public happiness; and the very strength of the administration operates continuously to the disadvantage of the state.

Kings want to be absolute, and from afar men cry out to them that the best way of becoming absolute is to make themselves loved by their people. This is a fine precept; and even in some respects a very true one. Unfortunately, it will always be laughed at in courts. The power which rests on the love of the people is undoubtedly the greatest, but is precarious and provisional; and princes will never be satisfied with it. The best kings want to be able to be bad if they feel like it without ceasing to be masters; a political sermonizer may well tell kings that since the people's force is the king's force, a king's best interest is to have the people flourishing, numerous and formidable; but kings know very well that this is not true. Their personal interest is primarily that the people should be weak, wretched and never able to resist them. I admit that if the subjects were always perfectly submissive, then it would be to the interest of the prince for the people to be strong, so that the people's strength, being also the prince's strength, would make him feared by his neighbours; but since this is only a secondary and subordinate advantage, and since strength is incompatible with submissiveness, it is natural that princes always prefer the doctrine that is more immediately useful to them. This is what Samuel put forcefully to the Hebrews, and what Machiavelli has proved very clearly — under the pretence of instructing kings, he has taught important lessons to the people. Machiavelli's Prince is a handbook for republicans.【6】

We have seen from the discussion of general proportions that monarchy is suited only to large states, and we find this again when we examine monarchy in itself. The more numerous the public administrators, the more the ratio between prince and subjects diminishes and approaches parity, coming to a point where the ratio is one to one, or equality itself, in democracy. This same ratio is greater to the extent that the government contracts, and reaches its maximum when the government is in the hands of a single man. Then there is too great a distance between the prince and the people and the state lacks bonds of union. For such bonds to be formed there must be intermediary ranks, with princelings, grandees, and a nobility to fill them. But all this is unsuited to a small state, which would be ruined by so many social orders.

But if it is difficult for a large state to be well governed, it is still more difficult for it to be well governed by a single man; and everyone knows what happens when a king rules through deputies.

An essential and inevitable defect, which will always make monarchical government inferior to republican government, is that whereas in republics the popular choice almost always elevates to the highest places only enlightened and capable men, who fill their office with honour, those who rise under monarchies are nearly always muddled little minds, petty knaves and intriguers with small talents which enable them to rise to high places in courts, but which betray their ineptitude to the public as soon as they are appointed. The people is much less often mistaken in such choices than is a prince, and a man of real merit is almost as rare in a royal ministry as a fool at the head of a republican government. Thus, when by some happy chance a born ruler takes the helm of affairs in a monarchy that is almost wrecked by swarms of egregious administrators, then everyone is amazed at the resources he discovers, and his reign marks an epoch in the history of the country.

For a monarchy to be well governed, its size and extent ought to be proportionate to the talents of those who govern. It is easier to conquer than to administer. With enough leverage, a finger could overturn the world; but to support the world, one must have the shoulders of Hercules. However small the state may be, princes are almost always inadequate. When, on the other hand, it happens that the state is too small for its ruler, a very rare thing, then it is even worse governed, because such a ruler, in following his own broad vision, forgets the people's interest; and he makes them no less miserable by the misuse of his superabundant abilities than a mediocre ruler would make them through the defects of an insufficient talent. It is as if kingdoms ought, so to speak, to expand or contract with each successive reign, according to the capacity of the prince. In a republic, on the other hand, where the talents of the senate are of a more settled measure, the state can have fixed boundaries without the administration working any less well.

The most perceptible disadvantage of government by one man is the lack of that continuity of succession which provides an uninterrupted bond of union in the other two systems. When a king dies, another is needed; elections leave a dangerous interval; they are stormy; and unless the citizens have more disinterestedness and integrity than is usual under such governments, there will be bribery and corruption. It is difficult for one to whom the state has been sold not to sell it in his turn, and recover from the weak the gold which the strong have extorted from him. Sooner or later, under such an administration everything becomes venal; and the peace which is then enjoyed under kings is worse than the disturbances of interregnums.

What has been done to prevent this evil? Thrones have been made hereditary in certain families, and an order of succession thus set up to prevent any dispute on the death of the king — that is to say, by substituting for the disadvantages of elections, the disadvantages of regencies, apparent peace has been preferred to wise administration, and the risk of having children or monsters or imbeciles for rulers preferred to having to dispute the choice of a good king. People do not realize that in exposing themselves to the hazards of these alternatives, they are gambling against all the odds. It was a very shrewd remark that the young Dionysus made to his father, when his father, reproaching him for a dishonourable action, said: 'Did I set you such an example?' 'Ah,' replied the son, 'your father was not a king.'

When someone is brought up to command others, everything conspires to rob him of justice and reason. Great pains are taken, we are told, to teach young princes the art of ruling; but it does not appear that this education does them any good. It would be better to begin by teaching them the art of obeying. The greatest kings known to history were not among those brought up to rule, for ruling is a science that is least well mastered by too much practice; it is one a man learns better in obeying than in commanding. Nam utilissimus idem ac brevissimus bonarum malarumque rerum delectus, cogitare quid aut nolueris sub alio Principe aut volueris.【7】

One consequence of this lack of coherence is the instability of royal government, which, being sometimes directed according to one plan and sometimes according to another, depending on the personality of the king who rules, or of those who rule for him, cannot long have a fixed objective or a consistent policy; this unsettledness makes the state drift from principle to principle, and from project to project, a defect not found in those forms of government where the prince is always the same. Thus we see that, in general, if there is more cunning in a royal court, there is more wisdom in a republican senate, and that republics have a more stable and effective guidance — something which cannot obtain where every revolution in the administration means a revolution in the state — for it is the universal rule of all ministers and nearly all kings to reverse the policy of their predecessors.

This same lack of cohesion gives the lie to a fallacy which is very common among royalist political thinkers, that is, not only of comparing civil government to household government and the prince to the father of a family — a fallacy I have already refuted — but also of generously attributing to a royal ruler all the virtues he has need of, and always assuming that the prince is everything he should be. With the help of these assumptions, royal government becomes manifestly preferable to all other kinds, because it is incontestably the strongest, and needs only a corporate will more in harmony with the general will to be also the best form of government.

But if, according to Plato, a born king is a very rare being — how often do Nature and Fortune combine to enthrone such a man? And if a royal education necessarily corrupts those who receive it, what must be expected of a succession of men brought up to rule?

It is deliberate self-deception to confuse royal government with the government of a good king. To understand what this form of government is inherently, one must consider it as it is under mediocre or evil princes, for either princes will be such when they accede to the throne or such is what occupying the throne will make them.

Although these difficulties do not escape our authors, they have never been in the least embarrassed by them. The remedy, they say, is to obey without a murmur. God in his wrath inflicts bad kings on us, so they must be endured as a divine punishment. This argument is undoubtedly edifying; but I fancy it is more suited to the pulpit than to a book of political theory. What would be said about a physician who promised miracles, and whose whole art was to teach the sick to practise patience?

We all know that we have to put up with a bad government when it is bad; the problem is to find a good government.

CHAPTER 7

Mixed Forms of Government

STRICTLY speaking, no government of a simple form exists. A single head of state has to have subordinate magistrates; a people's government must have a head. Thus in the division of executive power there is always a gradation from the larger number to the smaller — with this difference, that sometimes the many submit to the few, and sometimes the few submit to the many.

Sometimes there is an equal division, either when the constitutive parts are mutually dependent, as in the government of England, or when the authority of each part is independent but imperfect, as in the case of Poland. This latter form is bad, because there is no unity in the government, and the state lacks bonds of union. Which is better: a simple form of government or a mixed one? This is a question much debated by political theorists, and one to which I myself must give the answer I gave earlier about all forms of government.

In itself, the simple form of government is the best, precisely because it is simple. But when the executive power is not sufficiently subordinate to the legislative — that is to say, when the ratio of prince to sovereign is greater than that of people to prince — this lack of proportion has to be remedied by dividing the government, for then all the diverse elements of the government will have no less authority over the subjects, but their separation will make them less powerful against the sovereign.

The same disadvantage can also be prevented by establishing intermediate magistrates who, separated from the government altogether, serve only to balance the two powers, and uphold their respective rights. Then the government is not mixed, it is tempered.

The opposite disadvantage can be remedied by similar means; and when the government is too slack, commissions can be set up to give it concentration. In the first case, the government is divided in order to weaken it; in the second, in order to strengthen it. This is the practice of all democracies. The maximum of strength and of weakness are equally found in the simple forms of government, whereas the mixed forms provide a moderate degree of strength.

CHAPTER 8

That All Forms of Government Do Not Suit All Countries

FREEDOM is not a fruit of every climate, and it is not therefore within the capacity of every people. The more one reflects on this doctrine of Montesquieu, the more one is conscious of its truth. And the more often it is challenged, the more opportunities are given to establish it with new evidence.

In every government in the world, the public person consumes but does not produce anything. Whence does it obtain the substance it consumes? From the labour of its members. It is the surplus of private production which furnishes public subsistence. From this it follows that the civil state can subsist only if men's work yields more than they themselves need.

But this surplus is not the same in every country of the world. In some it is substantial, in others middling, in some nil, in others a deficit. The proportion depends on the fertility of the climate, on the kind of labour which the soil requires, on the nature of its products, on the strength of the inhabitants, and on the degree of consumption that is necessary for them, and on various other factors which go to make up the whole proportion.

In addition, all governments do not have the same nature; some are more voracious than others; and their differences are based on this next principle — that the further public contributions are from their source, the more burdensome they are. This burden should not be measured by the quantity of the contributions exacted, but by the distance they have to go to return to the hands from which they come; when this circulation is rapid and well established, it does not matter whether much or little is paid; the people will always be rich and finances will flourish. Correspondingly, however little the people gives, when that little does not return to it, it soon exhausts itself in continuous payments; the state is never rich and the people is always penurious.

This demonstrates that the greater the distance between the people and the government, the more onerous the taxes become; so that in a democracy the people is least burdened, in an aristocracy more burdened, and in a monarchy it bears the greatest weight of all. Monarchy is thus suited only to opulent nations, aristocracy to those of moderate wealth and size, and democracy to small and poor countries.

Indeed, the more one reflects, the more one recognizes that in this matter there are differences between free states and monarchies: in the former everything is used for the common advantage, while in the latter, private power and public power are competitive, and the one is increased only by weakening the other. As for despotism, instead of governing the subjects in order to make them happy, it makes them miserable in order to govern them.

Thus in every climate there are natural factors on the basis of which one can determine the form of government to which that climate leads; and we can even say what sort of inhabitants each must have.

Mean and sterile places, where the product does not repay the labour, must remain uncultivated and deserted, or peopled only by savages. Places which yield only the bare necessities of men's lives must be inhabited by barbarous peoples, since no political society is possible. Places where the surplus of product over labour is moderate are suited to free peoples. Places where an abundant and fertile soil gives a lavish return for little labour will want monarchical government, so that the luxury of the prince may consume the surplus of the product of the subjects — for it is better that this surplus should be absorbed by the government than dissipated by private persons. There are exceptions, I know, but these exceptions themselves confirm the rule, in that sooner or later they produce revolutions which put things back into the order of nature.

We must always distinguish general laws from particular causes which can modify their effect. If all the South were covered with republics and all the North with despotic states, it would still be true that, in terms of climate, despotism suits hot countries, barbarism cold countries, and that a good polity suits temperate regions. I realize that this general rule may be admitted and its application disputed; it could be argued that there are very fertile cold countries and very barren southern ones. But this is a difficulty only for those who fail to see the thing in all its ramifications. One must, as I have already said, consider the factors of production, strength, consumption and so on.

Suppose there are two equal territories, one yielding five units, the other ten. If the inhabitants of the former consume four and those of the latter nine, the surplus of the one will be one-fifth and of the other one-tenth. The ratio of these two surpluses will then be the inverse of that of their products, so that the territory yielding five units will show a surplus double that of the territory yielding ten.

But there is no question of a double product, and I do not believe anyone could venture to equate the fertility of a cold country with that of a hot country. But let us assume such equality; let us, for example, compare England and Sicily, Poland and Egypt. Farther south there will be Africa and India; farther north, there will be nothing. What differences in agricultural technique will be needed to achieve this equality of product? In Sicily, it is enough simply to scratch the soil, while in England, how much effort is needed to work it! Now where more hands are required to obtain the same product, the surplus is necessarily less.

Note a further point, that the same number of men consume much less in hot countries. The climate requires a man to be abstemious to keep fit — and Europeans who try to live in hot countries as they live at home die of dysentry and stomach disorders. 'We,' says Chardin, 'are carnivorous beasts, wolves, compared to the Asians. Some attribute the abstemiousness of the Persians to the fact that their country is less cultivated; but I, on the contrary, believe that their country is less rich in foodstuffs because the inhabitants need less. If their frugality [he continues] were the effect of the poverty of the soil, it would be the poor alone who ate little; in fact everybody does; and instead of finding people eating less or more in each province according to the fertility of the land, one finds the same frugality throughout the kingdom. They are very proud of their way of life, and say that one has only to look at their complexions to see how superior their way is to that of other nations. And indeed, the complexion of the Persians is clear, their skin is fair, delicate and smooth, while that of the Armenians, their subjects who live in the European manner, is rough and blotchy, and their bodies are fat and heavy.'

The closer men are to the equator, the more frugally they live. They eat hardly any meat; rice, maize, couscous, millet and cassava are their daily food. In India there are millions of men whose food costs less than a penny a day. In Europe itself we notice a marked difference of appetite between the peoples of the north and those of the south. A Spaniard could live eight days on the dinner of a German. In countries where men are more gluttonous, luxury is turned towards the things men consume. In England, it shows itself in tables loaded with meats; in Italy one is regaled on sugar and flowers.

Luxury in clothing reveals similar differences. In countries where the changes of season are swift and violent, people have better and simpler clothes; in countries where they dress only for appearance, people care more for show than utility, and clothes themselves are a luxury. In Naples you will see men strolling daily along the Posillipo in gold-embroidered jackets and no hose. It is the same thing with buildings; people attach importance to magnificence when they have nothing to fear from the climate. In Paris or London people want to be housed warmly and comfortably. In Madrid, they have superb reception rooms, but no windows that close and their bedrooms are like rat holes.

Foodstuffs are more substantial and richer in hot countries — this is a third difference and it does not fail to influence the second. Why does one eat so many vegetables in Italy? Because they are good, nourishing and of excellent flavour. In France, where they get nothing but water, they are not at all nourishing, and count for nothing at the table; but even so they take up no less ground and cost just as much to cultivate. Experiment has shown that the wheats of Barbary, otherwise inferior to those of France, yield much more flour; and that the French wheats, in turn, yield more than those of the North. From this one can deduce that a similar gradation may be observed along a line from the equator to the pole. Now is it not a tangible disadvantage to have a smaller amount of nourishment in an equal quantity of produce?

To all these various considerations, I may add another which flows from, and which reinforces them, that is, that hot countries need fewer inhabitants than cold countries, and can feed more — which provides a double surplus to the advantage of despotism. The wider the area that is occupied by the same number of people, the more difficult revolts become; for the inhabitants cannot get together quickly and secretly, while it is always easy for the government to discover plots and to cut communications. On the other hand, the more a numerous people is packed together, the less easily can the government infringe on the sovereign; popular leaders deliberate as securely in their private rooms as the prince in his council, and the crowd gathers as swiftly in the public squares as the troops in their barracks. It is thus to the advantage of tyrannical government to act over great distances. With the aid of strongpoints to serve as fulcra, its strength increases with distance, on the principle of leverage.【8】

The strength of the people, on the contrary, is effective only if it is concentrated; it evaporates and is lost when it is dispersed, just as gunpowder scattered on the ground ignites only grain by grain. The least populous countries are thus the most fitted to tyranny; wild beasts reign only in deserts.

CHAPTER 9

The Signs of a Good Government

WHEN, therefore, one asks what in absolute terms is the best government, one is asking a question which is unanswerable because it is indeterminate; or alternatively one might say that there are as many good answers as there are possible combinations in the absolute and relative positions of peoples.

But if it is asked by what signs one can tell whether a given people is well or badly governed, that is another matter; and as a question of fact it could be answered.

Even so, it is not really answered, because everyone will want to answer it in his own way. Subjects prize public tranquillity; citizens the freedom of the individual — the former prefer security of possessions, the latter security of person; subjects think the best government is the most severe, citizens that it is the mildest; the former want crimes to be punished, the latter want them prevented; subjects think it is a good thing to be feared by their neighbours, citizens prefer to be ignored by them; the former are satisfied so long as money circulates, the latter demand that the people shall have bread. But even if there were agreement on these and suchlike points, should we be any more advanced? Moral dimensions have no precise standard of measurement; even if we could agree about signs, how should we agree on their value?

For myself, I am always astonished that people should fail to recognize so simple a sign, or be so insincere as not to accept it as such. What is the object of any political association? It is the protection and the prosperity of its members. And what is the surest evidence that they are so protected and prosperous? The numbers of their population. Then do not look beyond this much debated evidence. All other things being equal, the government under which, without external aids like naturalization and immigration, the citizens increase and multiply most, is infallibly the best government. That under which the people diminishes and wastes away is the worst. Statisticians, this is your problem: count, measure, compare.【9】

CHAPTER 10

The Abuse of Government and its Tendency to Degenerate

JusT as the particular will acts unceasingly against the general will, so does the government continually exert itself against the sovereign. And the more this exertion increases, the more the constitution changes for the worse, and, as in this case there is no distinct corporate will to resist the will of the prince and so to balance it, sooner or later it is inevitable that the prince will oppress the sovereign and break the social treaty. This is the inherent and inescapable defect which, from the birth of the political body, tends relentlessly to destroy it, just as old age and death destroy the body of a man.

There are two common ways by which a government degenerates — when it itself contracts and when the state dissolves.

The government contracts when its members pass from a greater to a smaller number, that is, from democracy to aristocracy, or from aristocracy to royal government. This is its natural tendency.【10】 If it were to move in the other direction from a smaller number to a greater, the government might be said to slacken; but such an inverse progression is impossible.

For indeed, a government never changes its form unless its exhausted energies are too feeble to maintain its original form. If it slackened while expanding, its strength would be absolutely null, and it would be even less likely to survive. It must therefore wind up and tighten the mechanism as it begins to slacken, for otherwise the state which depends on it will fall into ruin.

The dissolution of the state may take place in two ways.

First it takes place when the prince ceases to administer the state according to the law and usurps the sovereign power. Then a remarkable change occurs; for it is not the government but the state which contracts — by which I mean that the state as a whole is dissolved and another is formed inside it, one composed only of members of the government and having no significance for the rest of the people except that of a master and a tyrant, so that the moment the government usurps sovereignty, the social pact is broken, and all the ordinary citizens, recovering by right their natural freedom, are compelled by force, but not morally obliged, to obey.

The same situation occurs when the members of the government separately usurp the power which they ought only to exercise as a body; for this is no less an infraction of the law, and it produces an even greater disorder. For then there are, so to speak, as many princes as there are magistrates, and the state being no less divided than the government, perishes or changes its form.

When the state is dissolved, the abuse of government, whatever it may be, takes the general name of anarchy. More precisely democracy degenerates into ochlocracy, aristocracy into oligarchy, and I would add that royal government degenerates into tyranny, except that this last word is ambiguous and requires explanation.

In the commonly understood sense, a tyrant is a king who governs by force and without regard to justice and the law. In the exact sense, a tyrant is an individual who arrogates to himself royal authority without having any right to it. It is thus that the Greeks understood the word 'tyrant'. They applied it indiscriminately to good and bad princes whenever their authority was not legitimate.【11】 Thus tyrant and usurper are perfectly syonymous words. To give different names to different things, I call a usurper of royal authority a 'tyrant' and the usurper of the sovereign power a 'despot'. The tyrant is one who intrudes, contrary to law, to govern according to the law; the despot is one who puts himself above the law. Thus the tyrant need not be a despot, but a despot is always a tyrant.

CHAPTER 11

The Death of the Body Politic

SUCH is the natural and inevitable tendency of the best constituted governments. If Sparta and Rome perished, what state can hope to last for ever? If we wish, then, to set up a lasting constitution, let us not dream of making it eternal. We can succeed only if we avoid attempting the impossible and flattering ourselves that we can give to the work of man a durability that does not belong to human things.

The body politic, no less than the body of a man, begins to die as soon as it is born, and bears within itself the causes of its own destruction. Either kind of body may have a constitution of greater or less robustness, fitted to preserve it for a longer or shorter time. The constitution of a man is the work of nature; that of the state is the work of artifice. It is not within the capacity of men to prolong their own lives, but it is within the capacity of men to prolong the life of the state as far as possible by giving it the best constitution it can have. And although even the best constitution will come to an end, it will do so later than any other, unless some unforeseen hazard fells it before its time.

The principle of political life dwells in the sovereign authority. The legislative power is the heart of the state, the executive power is the brain, which sets all the parts in motion. The brain may become paralysed and the individual still live. A man can be an imbecile and survive, but as soon as his heart stops functioning, the creature is dead.

It is not through the law that the state keeps alive; it is through the legislative power. Yesterday's law is not binding today, but silence gives a presumption of tacit consent and the sovereign is taken to confirm in perpetuity the laws it does not abrogate while it has power to abrogate them. Everything which it has once declared to be its will, it wills always — at least until it issues a revocation.

Why then do ancient laws command so much respect? Precisely because they are ancient. We must believe that it is only the excellence of such laws that has enabled them to last so long; if the sovereign had not continually recognized them as salutary, they would have been revoked a thousand times. This is why the laws, far from growing weaker, constantly gain new strength in every well-constituted state; the prejudice in favour of antiquity makes them every day more revered; in those cases, on the other hand, where the laws become weaker with age, this shows that there is no longer any legislative power and that the state is dead.

CHAPTER 12

How the Sovereign Authority Maintains Itself

THE sovereign, having no other force than the legislative power, acts only through the laws, and since the laws are nothing other than authentic acts of the general will, the sovereign can act only when the people is assembled. The people assembled, it will be said — what an illusion! It is indeed an illusion today; but two thousand years ago it was not. Has human nature so much changed?

The boundaries of the possible in the moral realm are less narrow than we think; it is our own weaknesses, our vices and our prejudices that limit them. Base minds do not believe in great men; low slaves jeer in mockery at the word 'freedom'.

In the light of what has been done, let us consider what can be done. I shall not speak of the ancient republics of Greece; but the Roman Republic was, it seems to me, a large state and the town of Rome a large town: the last census gave four hundred thousand men in Rome carrying arms, and the last census calculation under the Empire more than four million citizens without counting subjects, foreigners, women, children or slaves.

One would suppose that it must have been difficult to bring together frequently the numerous people of the capital and its surroundings. In fact, very few weeks passed without the Roman people being assembled, even several times in one week. This people not only exercised the rights of sovereignty, but also a part of the government. It dealt with certain business; it tried certain cases; and the entire people in the public assemblies enacted the role of magistrate almost as often as that of citizen.

Looking back to the earliest history of nations, we notice that the majority of ancient governments, even monarchical ones like those of the Macedonians and the Franks, had similar assemblies. In any case, the one indisputable fact I have cited answers our question; it seems to me good logic to reason from the actual to the possible.

CHAPTER 13

The Same — Continued

IT is not enough that the assembled people should have once determined the constitution of the state by giving sanction to a body of laws; it is not enough that it should set up a perpetual government, or that it should have provided once and for all for the election of magistrates. In addition to the extraordinary assemblies that unforeseen events may necessitate, there must be fixed and periodic assemblies which nothing can abolish or prorogue, so that on the appointed day the people is rightfully summoned by the law itself without any further formal convocation being needed.

But apart from these assemblies which are lawful by their date alone, any assembly of the people which has not been summoned by the magistrate appointed for that duty and according to the prescribed form must be held to be unlawful, and everything it does must be void, for the order to assemble should itself emanate from the law.

As to whether legitimate assemblies should be more or less frequent, this depends on so many circumstances that one cannot lay down in advance any precise rules. One can only say that in general the more strength the government has, the more frequently the sovereign should meet in assemblies.

This, I shall be told, may be good for one single town, but what is to be done if the state consists of several towns? Is the sovereign authority to be divided? Or should it be concentrated in one single town holding the others as subject? I answer that neither the one thing nor the other should be done. In the first place, the sovereign authority is simply one single unit; it cannot be divided without being destroyed. In the second place, a town cannot legitimately be subject to another any more than a nation may be, because the essence of the political body lies in the union of freedom and obedience so that the words 'subject' and 'sovereign' are identical correlatives, the meaning of which is brought together in the single word 'citizen'.

I should answer further that it is always an evil to unite several towns in one nation, and whoever wishes to form such a union should not flatter himself that the natural disadvantages can be avoided. It is no use complaining about the evils of a large state to someone who wants only small ones. But how are small states to be given enough strength to resist large states, as the Greek cities once resisted a great king and as, more recently, Holland and Switzerland resisted the House of Austria?

Nevertheless, if the state cannot be limited to reasonable boundaries, there remains one remedy, and that is to have no fixed capital, but to move the seat of government from one place to another and to assemble the estates of the country in each in turn.

People the territory evenly, extend the same rights to everyone, carry the same abundance and life into every quarter — it is by these means that the state will become at once the strongest and the best governed that is possible. Remember that the walls of towns are made only from the debris of rural houses. Every time I see a mansion being built in the capital I fancy I can see the whole countryside covered with hovels.

CHAPTER 14

The Same — Continued

THE moment the people is lawfully assembled as a sovereign body all jurisdiction of the government ceases; the executive power is suspended, and the person of the humblest citizen is as sacred and inviolable as that of the highest magistrate, for in the presence of the represented there is no longer any representation. Most of the disturbances which took place in the Roman assemblies were the result of this rule being either unknown or neglected. The consuls were no more than the presidents of the people; the tribunes were mere speakers;【12】 the senate was nothing at all.

These intervals of suspension, when the prince recognizes — or ought to recognize — who is superior, are always alarming for princes; and the assemblies of the people, which are the shield of the body politic and the brake on the government, have always been the nightmare of magistrates; hence the latter spare no effort in raising objections, problems, promises to turn the citizens against assemblies. When the citizens are avaricious, cowardly, pusillanimous, and love repose more than freedom, they do not hold out against the redoubled efforts of the government. It is thus that, as the opposing force increases continuously, the sovereign authority atrophies in the end and the majority of republics fall and perish before their time.

But between the sovereign authority and arbitrary government there is sometimes interposed an intermediate power of which we must now speak.

CHAPTER 15

Deputies or Representatives

As soon as public service ceases to be the main concern of the citizens and they come to prefer to serve the state with their purse rather than their person, the state is already close to ruin. Are troops needed to march to war? They pay mercenaries and stay at home. Is it time to go to an assembly? They pay deputies and stay at home. Thanks to laziness and money, they end up with soldiers to enslave the country and deputies to sell it.

It is the bustle of commerce and the crafts, it is the avid thirst for profit, it is effeminacy and the love of comfort that commute personal service for money. Men give up a part of their profits so as to increase the rest at their ease. Use money thus, and you will soon have chains. The word 'finance' is the word of a slave; it is unknown in the true republic. In a genuinely free state, the citizens do everything with their own hands and nothing by means of money; far from paying for exemption from their duties, they would pay to discharge them in person. I am very far from sharing received ideas: I believe that compulsory service is less contrary to liberty than is taxation.

The better the state is constituted, the more does public business take precedence over private in the minds of the citizens. There is indeed much less private business, because the sum of the public happiness furnishes a larger proportion of each individual's happiness, so there remains less for him to seek on his own. In a well-regulated nation, every man hastens to the assemblies; under a bad government, no one wants to take a step to go to them, because no one feels the least interest in what is done there, since it is predictable that the general will will not be dominant, and, in short, because domestic concerns absorb all the individual's attention. Good laws lead men to make better ones; bad laws lead to worse. As soon as someone says of the business of the state — 'What does it matter to me?' — then the state must be reckoned lost.

The cooling-off of patriotism, the activity of private interest, the vastness of states, conquests, the abuse of government — all these have suggested the expedient of having deputies or representatives of the people in the assemblies of the nation. This is what in certain countries they dare to call the third estate — the private interest of two classes being there given first and second place, and the public interest only third place.

Sovereignty cannot be represented, for the same reason that it cannot be alienated; its essence is the general will, and will cannot be represented — either it is the general will or it is something else; there is no intermediate possibility. Thus the people's deputies are not, and could not be, its representatives; they are merely its agents; and they cannot decide anything finally. Any law which the people has not ratified in person is void; it is not law at all. The English people believes itself to be free; it is gravely mistaken; it is free only during the election of Members of Parliament; as soon as the Members are elected, the people is enslaved; it is nothing. In the brief moments of its freedom, the English people makes such a use of that freedom that it deserves to lose it.

The idea of representation is a modern one. It comes to us from feudal government, from that iniquitous and absurd system under which the human race is degraded and which dishonours the name of man. In the republics and even in the monarchies of the ancient world, the people never had representatives; the very word was unknown. It is remarkable in the case of Rome, where the tribunes were so sacred, that no one ever imagined that they might usurp the functions of the people; and in the midst of such a great multitude, they never attempted to pass on their own authority a single plebiscit-＠ium. One can judge, however, the embarrassment the crowd sometimes caused from what happened at the time of the Gracchi, when a great part of the citizens voted from the rooftops.

Where rights and freedom are everything, inconveniences are nothing. Among these wise people, everything was given its just measure; the lictors were allowed to do what the tribunes would not have dared to do; the people were not afraid that their lictors would wish to represent them.

To explain how, even so, the tribunes did represent the people, it is enough to consider how the government represents the sovereign. Since the law is nothing other than a declaration of the general will, it is clear that there cannot be representation of the people in the legislative power; but there may and should be such representation in the executive power, which is only the instrument for applying the law. This indicates that if we look carefully, we shall find that very few nations have laws. However that may be, it is certain that the tribunes, having no part of the executive power, could never represent the Roman people by the rights of their own office, but only by usurping those of the senate.

Among the Greeks, all that the people had to do, it did itself; it was continuously assembled in the market place. The Greek people lived in a mild climate; it was not at all avaricious; slaves did the work; its chief concern was its freedom. Without the same advantages, how can the same rights be preserved? Your harsher climate creates more necessities;【13】 six months of the year the public places are uninhabitable; your muted tongues cannot make themselves heard in the open air; you care more for your profits than your freedom; and you fear slavery less than you fear poverty.

What? Is freedom to be maintained only with the support of slavery? Perhaps. The two extremes meet. Everything outside nature has its disadvantages, civil society more than all the rest. There are some situations so unfortunate that one can preserve one's freedom only at the expense of the freedom of someone else; and the citizen can be perfectly free only if the slave is absolutely a slave. Such was the situation of Sparta. You peoples of the modern world, you have no slaves, but you are slaves yourselves; you pay for their liberty with your own. It is in vain that you boast of this preference; I see more cowardice than humanity in it.

I do not mean by all this to suggest that slaves are necessary or that the right of slavery is legitimate, for I have proved the contrary. I simply state the reasons why peoples of the modern world, believing themselves to be free, have representatives, and why peoples of the ancient world did not. However that may be, the moment a people adopts representatives it is no longer free; it no longer exists.

All things carefully considered, I do not see how it will be possible henceforth among people like us for the sovereign to maintain the exercise of its rights unless the republic is very small. But if it is very small, will it not be subjugated? No. I shall show later【14】 how the defensive strength of a large people can be combined with the free government and good order of a small state.

CHAPTER 16

That the Institution of the Government is not a Contract

ONCE the legislative power is well established, it remains to establish similarly the executive power; for the latter, which operates only by particular acts, is essentially different from the former, and is naturally separate from it. If it were possible for the sovereign, considered as such, to have the executive power, then the de jure and the de facto would be so confused that people would no longer know what was law and what was not; and the body politic, thus perverted, would soon fall prey to that very violence it was instituted to prevent.

The citizens being all equal by the social contract, all may prescribe what all must do, instead of nobody having a right to demand that another shall do what he does not do himself. For it is precisely this right, indispensable for giving life and movement to the body politic, that the sovereign gives to the prince in instituting the government.

Several theorists have claimed that this act of institution is a contract between the people and the magistrates it sets over itself, a contract which stipulates between the two parties the conditions under which the one undertakes to command and the other to obey. It will be admitted, I am sure, that this is a strange way of contracting. But let us see if the theory is tenable.

First, the supreme authority can no more be modified than it can be alienated; to limit it is to destroy it. It is absurd and self-contradictory that the sovereign should give itself a superior; to undertake to obey a master would be to return to absolute freedom.

Furthermore, it is clear that this contract of the people with such or such persons would be a particular act. From this it follows that this contract could not be a law, or an act of sovereignty, and hence that it would be illegitimate.

We see further that the contracting parties would, between themselves, be subject only to natural law, and so without any guarantee of their reciprocal commitments — and this is wholly contrary to the civil state. Since the man who has force in his hand is always the master of what shall be done, this is like giving the name of 'contract' to the act of a man who says to another: 'I give you all my property on condition that you give me back what you please.'

There is only one contract in the state: that of the association itself, and this excludes all others. One cannot imagine any public contract that would not be a violation of the original contract.

CHAPTER 17

The Institution of the Government

IN what conceptual terms then should we think of the act by which the government is instituted? I shall explain first that this act is complex, or composed of two others, namely the establishment of the law and the execution of the law.

By the first, the sovereign enacts that there shall be a body of government established with such or such form; and it is clear that this act is a law.

By the second, the people names the magistrates who are to be invested with the government thus established. Since this nomination is a particular act, it is not a second law, but simply a sequel to the first and a function of government.

The difficulty is to understand how there can be an act of government before the government exists, and how the people, which is only sovereign or subject, can in certain circumstances become prince or magistrate.

Now it is here once more that the body politic reveals one of those astonishing properties by which it reconciles operations that seem to be contradictory. For this operation is accomplished by the sudden transformation of the sovereignty into democracy in such a way that without undergoing any visible change, and simply through a new relation of all to all, the citizens become magistrates and pass from general acts to particular acts, and from the law to its execution.

This change of relation is not a construction of speculative theory without example in practice; it happens every day in the English parliament, where the lower House on certain occasions transforms itself into a committee of the whole House the better to discuss affairs, and so becomes a simple committee of that sovereign court which it was itself a moment before; then later it reports to itself, in its capacity of House of Commons, on what it has just settled as a committee of the whole House, and again debates under one name what it has already decided under another.

It is the advantage peculiar to democratic government that it can be established in fact by a simple act of the general will. After this, the provisional government remains in office if such is the form adopted, or there is established in the name of the sovereign whatever government is prescribed by the law; and everything is then in order. It is not possible to institute the government in any other legitimate manner, without abandoning the principles established in earlier chapters.

CHAPTER 18

Means of Preventing the Usurpation of Government

FROM these explanations, it follows, in confirmation of Chapter 16, that the act which institutes the government is not a contract but a law, and that the holders of the executive power are not the people's masters but its officers; and that the people can appoint them and dismiss them as it pleases; and that there is no question of their contracting, but of obeying; and that in discharging the functions which the state imposes on them, they are only doing their duty as citizens, without having any sort of right to argue terms.

Thus when it happens that the people institutes a hereditary government, whether monarchical in one family, or aristocratic in a class of citizens, it does not enter into any undertaking; hereditary government is simply a provisional form that it gives to the administration until such time as it pleases to arrange it differently.

It is true that such changes are always dangerous, and that one should never touch an established government unless it has become incompatible with the public welfare; but such circumspection is a precept of politics and not a rule of law; and the state is no more bound to leave civil authority to its magistrates than military authority to its generals.

It is true again that in such cases one cannot observe with too great care all the formalities required to distinguish a correct and legitimate act from a seditious tumult, and the will of a whole people from the clamour of a faction. It is here above all that one must avoid yielding to socially harmful claims any more than is required by the strict application of the law; and it is from this obligation too that the prince derives a great opportunity of holding his power in defiance of the people, without it being possible to say that he has usurped it. For while appearing to exercise only his rights it is very easy for him to enlarge those rights and to prevent, on the pretext of public tranquillity, assemblies designed to re-establish good government; thus he exploits the silence which he prevents men breaking, and the irregularities which he makes them commit, to assume in his own favour the tacit consent of those whose mouths are closed by fear and to punish those who dare to speak. It was thus that the decemvirs, having been first elected for one year, and then continued for another, tried to retain their power in perpetuity, by no longer allowing the comitia to assemble. And it is by this simple means that all the governments of the world, once armed with the public force, sooner or later usurp the sovereign authority.

The periodic assemblies of which I have already spoken are the right means to prevent or postpone this evil, above all those assemblies where no formal convocation is needed; for then the prince cannot prevent their meeting without openly proclaiming himself a violator of the laws and an enemy of the state.

At the opening of these assemblies, of which the only purpose is the maintenance of the social treaty, two motions should be put, motions which may never be annulled and which must be voted separately:

The first: 'Does it please the sovereign to maintain the present form of government?'

The second: 'Does it please the people to leave the administration to those at present charged with it?'

I assume here what I believe I have demonstrated, namely, that there is not in the state any fundamental law which may not be revoked, not even the social pact; for if all the citizens assemble to end this pact by a common accord, one cannot doubt that it is very legitimately ended. Grotius indeed thinks that each citizen may renounce his membership of the state, and recover his natural liberty and his goods on withdrawing from the country.【15】 And it would be absurd if all the citizens united could not do what each of them separately can do.

Note

【1】 Thus in Venice the ruling college is called the Most Serene Prince even when the Doge is not present.

【2】 The Palatine of Posen, father of the King of Poland and Duke of Lorraine.

【3】 Better freedom with danger than peace with slavery.'

【4】 It is clear that the word Optimates, for the ancients, did not mean the best but the strongest.

【5】 It is of the utmost importance that the law should regulate the procedure of election of magistrates, for if this is left to the will of the prince, there will be no avoiding a decline into hereditary aristocracy, as happened in the Republics of Venice and Berne. The first of these two states has long since fallen into decay, while the other preserves itself only by the extreme wisdom of its senate — a very honourable and very dangerous exception to the rule.

【6】 Machiavelli was a gentleman and a good citizen; but being attached to the house of Medici, he was forced during the oppression of his country to disguise his love of liberty. The very choice of an execrable hero reveals his secret intention, and the antithesis between his principles in his book The Prince and those in his Discourses on Livy and The History of Florence proves that this profound political thinker has so far had only superficial or corrupted readers. The Pope's court strictly prohibited his book, which I can well believe, since that was the Court he depicts most plainly.

【7】 'The best as well as the shortest way to find out what is good and what is bad is to consider what you would have wished to happen if someone other than yourself had been Prince.' (Tacitus, History, Book Ⅰ.)

【8】 This does not contradict what I said in Book Ⅱ, Chapter 9, about the disadvantages of a large state, for there I was dealing with the authority of the government over its own members, and here it is a question of the government's strength over the subjects. Its scattered members serve it as so many fulcra to exert pressure on the people from a distance, but it has no such fulcrum to exert pressure on its own members. Thus in the one case the length of the lever is its weakness; in the other, its strength.

【9】 One must judge on the same principle the centuries that merit preference in respect of the prosperity of the human race. People have too much admired those that have witnessed a flourishing of crafts and letters without penetrating the secret purpose of their culture, and without considering its fatal consequences, idque apud imperitos humanitas vocabatur, cum pars servitutis esset. Shall we never see behind the precepts of books the crude self-interest which prompts the authors to speak? No, whatever they may say, when, notwithstanding its brilliance, a country is depopulated, it is simply not true that all is going well; and it is not enough for a poet to have an income of 100,000 livres for his century to be the best of all. It is less important to consider the apparent repose and tranquillity of rulers than the wellbeing of whole nations and above all of the most populous states. A hailstorm may devastate a few cantons, but it rarely causes famine. Riots and civil wars may greatly alarm rulers, but they are not the true misfortunes of peoples, who can at least have a few months' respite during the quarrels as to who is to be the next tyrant. Their calamities and their happiness both arise from their permanent condition. When all remain supine under the yoke, it is then that everything decays, it is then that the rulers can destroy them at their ease, ubi solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant. When the quarrels of the state disturbed the kingdom of France, and the Coadjutor of Paris attended the Parlement with a dagger in his pocket, this did not prevent the French people living happily and multiplying in a free and decent ease. In ancient times, Greece flourished at the height of the cruellest wars; blood flowed in torrents, but the whole country was thickly populated. 'It appeared,' says Machiavelli, 'that in the midst of murder, proscription and civil wars, our republic became stronger than ever; the civil virtue of the citizens, their morals, and their independence, served more effectively to strengthen it than all their dissensions may have done to weaken it.' A little disturbance gives vigour to the soul, and what really makes the species prosper is not peace but freedom.

【10】 The slow formation and progress of the Republic of Venice in its lagoons provides a notable example of this progression; and it is really astonishing that after more than twelve hundred years, the Venetians seem still to be at the second stage, which began with the Serrar di Consiglio in 1198. As for the ancient Doges, for whom the Venetians are reproached, whatever may be said by the squittinio della libertà veneta, there is proof that the Doges were not their sovereigns.

People will not fail to quote against me the case of the Roman Republic, which is said to have followed a reverse sequence, from monarchy to aristocracy and from aristocracy to democracy. But I am very far from sharing this opinion.

The first constitution of Romulus was a mixed government, which promptly degenerated into a despotism. For special reasons, the state perished before its time, just as one sometimes sees an infant die before reaching the age of maturity. The expulsion of the Tarquins was the real moment of the birth of the Republic. But it did not at first assume a fixed form, because the failure to abolish the patriciate left the task half-finished. For the hereditary aristocracy, which is the worst of all legitimate administrations, remained in conflict with democracy, and the form of government, continuously uncertain and wavering, was not fixed (as Machiavelli has proved) until the establishment of the tribunes; only then was there a true government and a true democracy. For indeed the people then was not only sovereign, but also magistrate and judge; and the senate was no more than a subordinate commission to temper and concentrate the government, while the consuls themselves — in spite of their being patricians, chief magistrates and absolute commanders in war — were never more in Rome than presidents of the people.

From that time, the government was seen to follow its natural inclination, and tend strongly towards aristocracy. The patriciate having as it were abolished itself, the aristocracy was no longer seated in the body of the patricians, as in Venice and Genoa, but in the body of the senate composed of patricians and plebeians, even in the body of the tribunes, when they began to usurp the active power. For words do not alter things, and when the people have chiefs who govern on their behalf, this is still an aristocracy no matter what name those persons bear.

The abuse of aristocracy gave birth to civil war and the triumvirate. Sulla, Julius Caesar and Augustus became in fact as good as monarchs, and finally under the despotism of Tiberius the state was dissolved. Roman history, then, does not belie my principle: it confirms it.

【11】 'Omnes enim et habentur et dicuntur Tyranni qui potestate utuntur perpetua, in ea Civitate quae libertate usa est.' ('For all are thought and called tyrants who exercise perpetual power in a city accustomed to freedom.' Cornelius Nepos, Life of Miltiades.) It is true that Aristotle (Nicomachean Ethics, Ⅷ, 10) distinguishes between a tyrant and a king, saying the former governs for his own advantage while the latter governs only for the advantage of his subjects; but in addition to the fact that in general all the Greek authors used the word 'tyrant' in another sense, as we see above all in the Hiero of Xenophon, it would follow from Aristotle's criterion, that there had never yet been a single king since the beginning of the world.

【12】 The word is used here somewhat in the sense it has in the English parliament. The resemblance between these functions would have caused conflict between the Consuls and the Tribunes, even if all jurisdiction had been suspended.

【13】 To adopt in cold countries the luxury and softness of the orientals is to ask to have their chains, to make submission even more inevitable than theirs.

【14】 This is what I intended to do in the remaining part of this work, when, in dealing with foreign relations, I should have come to the subject of confederations. This subject is entirely new, and its principles have yet to be established.

【15】 It being understood that none may leave the country to evade his duty, or avoid saving his country when it needs him. In such a case, flight would be criminal and punishable; it would not be withdrawal but desertion.

Book Ⅳ

CHAPTER 1

That the General Will is Indestructible

So long as several men assembled together consider themselves a single body, they have only one will, which is directed towards their common preservation and general well-being. Then all the animating forces of the state are vigorous and simple; its principles are clear and luminous; it has no incompatible or conflicting interests; the common good makes itself so manifestly evident that only common sense is needed to discern it. Peace, unity, equality are enemies of political sophistication. Upright and simple men are difficult to deceive precisely because of their simplicity; strategems and clever arguments do not prevail upon them; they are not indeed subtle enough to be dupes. When we see among the happiest people in the world bands of peasants regulating the affairs of state under an oak tree, and always acting wisely, can we help feeling a certain contempt for the refinements of other nations, which employ so much skill and mystery to make themselves at once illustrious and wretched?

A state thus governed needs very few laws, and whenever there is a need to promulgate new ones, that need is universally seen. The first man to propose such a law is only giving voice to what everyone already feels, and there is no question either of intrigues or of eloquence to secure the enactment of what each has already resolved to do as soon as he is sure that all the others will do likewise.

What misleads theorists is that, as a result of looking only at states which are badly constituted from the beginning, they are struck by the impossibility of maintaining such a régime there. They laugh at the thought of all the follies that a clever knave or a sly orator could persuade the people of Paris or London to commit. They do not realize that Cromwell would have been put to forced labour by the people of Berne, and the Duc de Beaufort imprisoned by the Genevese.

However, when the social tie begins to slacken and the state to weaken, when particular interests begin to make themselves felt and sectional societies begin to exert an influence over the greater society, the common interest becomes corrupted and meets opposition; voting is no longer unanimous; the general will is no longer the will of all; contradictions and disputes arise; and even the best opinion is not allowed to prevail unchallenged.

In the end, when the state, on the brink of ruin, can maintain itself only in an empty and illusory form, when the social bond is broken in every heart, when the meanest interest impudently flaunts the sacred name of the public good, then the general will is silenced: everyone, animated by secret motives, ceases to speak as a citizen any more than as if the state had never existed; and the people enacts in the guise of laws iniquitous decrees which have private interests as their only end.

Does it follow from this that the general will is annihilated or corrupted? No, that is always unchanging, incorruptible and pure, but it is subordinated to other wills which prevail over it. Each man, in detaching his interest from the common interest, sees clearly that he cannot separate it entirely, but his share of the public evil seems to him to be nothing compared to the exclusive good he seeks to make his own. Where his private good is not concerned, he wills the general good in his own interest as eagerly as anyone else. Even in selling his vote for money, he does not extinguish the general will in himself; he evades it. The fault he commits is to change the form of the question, and to answer something different from what is asked him; so that instead of saying, with his vote, 'It is advantageous to the state', he says, 'It is advantageous to this man or to that party that such or such a proposal should be adopted.' For this reason the sensible rule for regulating public assemblies is one intended not so much to uphold the general will there as to ensure that it is always questioned and always responds.

I might say a great deal here about the simple right of voting in every act of sovereignty, a right of which nothing can deprive citizens, and also about the right of speaking, proposing, dividing and debating — a right which the government always takes great care to assign only to its own members — but this important subject would require a separate treatise, and I cannot put everything in this one.

CHAPTER 2

The Suffrage

IT will be evident from what has been said in the preceding chapter that the manner in which public affairs are conducted gives a sufficiently accurate indication of the moral character and the state of health of the body politic. The greater harmony that reigns in the public assemblies, the more, in other words, that public opinion approaches unanimity, the more the general will is dominant; whereas long debates, dissensions and disturbances bespeak the ascendance of particular interests and the decline of the state.

This will seem less evident when two or several orders enter into the constitution, as in Rome with its patricians and plebeians, whose quarrels often disturbed the comitia even in the finest days of the Republic; but this exception to the rule is more apparent than real, for in Rome, as a result of an inherent defect in the body politic, there were, in a manner of speaking, two states in one, and what is not true of both together is true of each separately. And, indeed, even in the most tumultuous times, the plebiscites of the people always proceeded peacefully when the senate did not interfere, and votes were given with large majorities. The citizens having only one interest, the people had only one will.

At the other extreme of the cycle, unanimity reappears. This is when the citizens, lapsed into servitude, have no longer either freedom or will. Then fear and flattery change voting into acclamation; people no longer deliberate, they worship or they curse. Such was the shameful manner in which the senate gave voice to its opinions under the emperors. Sometimes it did so with absurd precautions. Tacitus mentions that under Otho, the senators covered Vitellius with execrations, but took care at the same time to make a deafening noise, so that Vitellius would not be able to distinguish what each one of them had said, lest he should ever by any chance become master.

These various considerations suggest the principles by which the counting of votes and the comparing of opinions should be arranged, depending on whether the general will is more or less easy to recognize, and on whether the state is more or less in decline.

There is only one law which by its nature requires unanimous assent. This is the social pact: for the civil association is the most voluntary act in the world; every man having been born free and master of himself, no one else may under any pretext whatever subject him without his consent. To assert that the son of a slave is born a slave is to assert that he is not born a man.

If, then, there are opposing voices at the time when the social pact is made, this opposition does not invalidate the contract; it merely excludes the dissentients; they are foreigners among the citizens. After the state is instituted, residence implies consent: to inhabit the territory is to submit to the sovereign.【1】

Apart from this original contract, the votes of the greatest number always bind the rest; and this is a consequence of the contract itself. Yet it may be asked how a man can be at once free and forced to conform to wills which are not his own. How can the opposing minority be both free and subject to laws to which they have not consented?

I answer that the question is badly formulated. The citizen consents to all the laws, even to those that are passed against his will, and even to those which punish him when he dares to break any one of them. The constant will of all the members of the state is the general will; it is through it that they are citizens and free.【2】 When a law is proposed in the people's assembly, what is asked of them is not precisely whether they approve of the proposition or reject it, but whether it is in conformity with the general will which is theirs; each by giving his vote gives his opinion on this question, and the counting of votes yields a declaration of the general will. When, therefore, the opinion contrary to my own prevails, this proves only that I have made a mistake, and that what I believed to be the general will was not so. If my particular opinion had prevailed against the general will, I should have done something other than what I had willed, and then I should not have been free.

This presupposes, it is true, that all the characteristics of the general will are still to be found in the majority; when these cease to be there, no matter what position men adopt, there is no longer any freedom.

When I showed earlier in this essay how particular wills come to take the place of the general will in public deliberations, I made sufficiently clear what practical means may prevent that abuse, and I shall return to this subject later. As for the proportional number of votes required to declare the general will, I have also set forth the principles by which that number can be determined. A difference of a single vote destroys an equal division; a single opposing voice destroys unanimity; but between unanimity and an equal division there are numerous unequal divisions, and the desired proportion can be fixed at any of these points in accordance with the condition and on the needs of the body politic.

Two general maxims may serve to determine these ratios: the first, that the more important and serious the matter to be decided, the closer should the opinion which is to prevail approach unanimity; the second, the swifter the decision the question demands, the smaller the prescribed majority may be allowed to become; and in decisions which have to be given immediately, a majority of one must suffice. The first of these maxims might seem to be more suited to the enactment of laws, the second to the dispatch of administrative business. At all events, it is by a combination of the two maxims that we can determine the right size for the majority that is to decide on any question.

CHAPTER 3

Elections

ELECTIONS of the prince and magistrates, which are, as I have said, complex acts, can be arranged in two ways, by choice or by lot. Both means have been employed in different republics, and a very complicated mixture of the two can still be seen in the election of the Doge of Venice. 'Election by lot,' says Montesquieu, 'is natural to democracy.' I agree. But why is this so? 'Drawing lots,' he continues, 'is a method of election that wounds no one and gives every citizen a reasonable hope of serving his country.' But these are not good reasons.

If we remember that the election of magistrates is a function of government and not of sovereignty, we shall see why the method of lot is natural to democracy, where the administration is all the better in proportion as its acts are fewer.

In every true democracy, magistrature is not a privilege but a heavy responsibility, so that it cannot justly be imposed on one man rather than another. The law alone can impose this burden on the man to whom the lot falls. For in this case, since the conditions are equal for all and the choice does not depend on any human will, the universality of the law is not distorted by any particular application.

In an aristocracy the prince chooses the prince, the government perpetuates itself by its own actions; and then election by choice is appropriate.

The example of the election of the Doge of Venice, far from undermining this distinction, confirms it: such a mixed form suits a mixed government. It is a mistake to regard the government of Venice as a genuine aristocracy. For while the Venetian people has no part in the government, the Venetian nobility is itself a people. A multitude of poor Barnabites never comes near any magistrature, and its nobility rests on the empty title of Excellency and the right to attend the Great Council. And since this Great Council is as numerous as our General Council in Geneva, its illustrious members have no more privileges than our plain citizens. Hence there is no doubt that, apart from the extreme disparity between the two republics, the bourgeoisie of Geneva corresponds precisely to the patriciate of Venice; our natives and inhabitants correspond to the townsmen and the people of Venice, and our peasants to their subjects on the mainland; to sum up, from whatever point of view the Venetian Republic is considered, apart from its size, its government is no more aristocratic than our own. The whole difference lies in the fact that we have no head of state who holds office for life, and so we have not the same need for the method of election by lot.

Election by lot would have few disadvantages in a true democracy, for where all men were equal in character and talent as well as in principles and fortune, it would hardly matter who was chosen. But as I have already said, no true democracy exists.

When election by choice and election by lot are both employed, choice should be used to fill places that call for special skills, such as military commands, and lot for those where common sense, justice and integrity are enough, as in the case of political offices, for in a well-constituted state, such qualities are found among all the citizens.

Under monarchical government, neither election by lot nor election by choice has any place. Since the monarch is by right the sole prince and only magistrate, the choice of his lieutenants belongs to him alone. When the Abbé de St Pierre proposed to increase the Councils of the King of France and have their members elected by ballot, he did not realize that he was proposing to change the form of government!

I have yet to speak of the method of voting and collecting votes in the people's assembly, but perhaps the history of the Roman system would serve to demonstrate more forcefully all the principles that I might myself set forth. It will not be beneath the dignity of a thoughtful reader to consider in some detail how public and private business was conducted in an assembly of two hundred thousand men.

CHAPTER 4

The Roman Comitia

WE have no trustworthy records of the early history of Rome, and there is every likelihood that most of the tales we are told are fables;【3】 indeed, in general, that most instructive part of the annals of peoples, which is the history of their institution, is the part we most lack. Experience teaches us daily the causes of revolutions in empires, but as peoples are no longer instituted, we have nothing better than conjecture to explain how they were once instituted.

The customs that we find established show at least that such customs must have had an origin. Traditions that recall these origins, that are supported by the best authorities, and confirmed by the best reasons, should pass for the most certain. Such are the principles I have tried to follow in enquiring how the freest and strongest people of the world exercised its supreme power.

After the foundation of Rome, the new-born Republic — that is, the founder's army, made up of Albans, Sabines and foreigners — was divided into three classes, which acquired by this division the name of tribes. Each of these tribes was further divided into ten curiae, and each curia subdivided into decuriae, with chiefs named curiones and decuriones placed at their head.

In addition to this, there was drawn from each tribe a body of a hundred equites or knights, called a century, which indicates that these divisions, hardly necessary in a city, were in the first place purely military. But it seems that an instinct for greatness led this little town of Rome to provide itself from the outset with a system well suited to the capital of the world.

However, this original division soon had one disadvantageous consequence. The tribes of Albans and Sabines remained constant, while the tribe of foreigners grew continuously as more foreigners were recruited, and it soon contained more members than the other two tribes combined. The remedy that Servius found for this dangerous fault was to alter the basis of the division, and in place of the racial distinction, which he abolished, he introduced one based on the district of the town occupied by each of the tribes. Instead of three tribes, he set up four, each occupying one of the hills of Rome and bearing its name. Thus he both corrected an existing inequality and forestalled any future inequality; and to ensure that the division should be one of men and not of places, he forbade the inhabitants of one district to move to another, and so prevented the races from merging together.

He also doubled the three original centuries of equites and added twelve new ones, but he let them keep their former names — a shrewd and simple means by which he succeeded in distinguishing the body of knights from that of the people without making the latter complain.

To these four urban tribes, Servius added fifteen others which were called rustic tribes, because they were formed of inhabitants of the country, arranged in so many cantons. Afterwards as many new tribes were formed, and the Roman people found itself divided into thirty-five tribes, a number which remained unchanged until the end of the Republic.

This distinction between tribes of the town and tribes of the country had one consequence worth noting since there is no other instance of it, and since Rome was indebted to it both for the preservation of her morals and for the growth of her empire. It might have been thought that the urban tribes would have soon monopolized the power and the honours and have been quick to diminish the standing of the rustic tribes. What happened was the contrary. The taste of the early Romans for a country life is well known. This taste came from their wise founder, who made freedom go together with rural labour and military service and, in a manner of speaking, relegated crafts, trades, intrigue, wealth and slavery to the city.

Since all the illustrious men in Rome thus lived in the country and cultivated the land, it became customary to look to the country for the mainstays of the Republic. And as this way of life was that of the most noble patricians, it was honoured by everyone; the simple and laborious life of villagers was preferred to the loose and idle life of the Roman bourgeois, and a man who would have been nothing but a miserable proletarian in the town became as a tiller of the soil a respected citizen. It was not without reason, says Varro, that our magnanimous ancestors established in the village the nursery of those robust and valiant men who defended them in time of war and nourished them in time of peace. Pliny states positively that the rustic tribes were honoured because of the men who belonged to them, and that whenever it was intended to degrade a coward, he was transferred in disgrace to one of the urban tribes. When Appius Claudius, the Sabine, came to set himself up in Rome, he was loaded with honours and inscribed as a member of a rustic tribe which afterwards took the name of his family. Finally, all the freed men joined the urban and never the rustic tribes, and throughout the Republic there was not a single example of any one of these freed men acceding to any magistrature, even though he had become a citizen.

This principle was excellent; but it was pushed so far that it finally produced an alteration, and certainly an abuse in the political system.

First, the censors, having long arrogated to themselves the right arbitrarily to transfer citizens from one tribe to another, allowed most men to enrol in the tribe of their choice, a concession which certainly did no good and which deprived the censorship of one of its great advantages. Moreover, the exalted and powerful men all had themselves enrolled in the rustic tribes, and the freed men remained with the common people in the urban tribes, so that the tribes generally ceased to have any local or territorial bases, and all were so muddled together that it was no longer possible to identify anyone without consulting the register; and this is why the word tribe came to have a personal instead of a territorial meaning, or rather came to be virtually fictitious.

It also came about that the urban tribes, being closer to the centre, often found themselves the strongest group in the comitia, and sold the state to such as deigned to buy the votes of the rabble who composed that assembly.

As for the curiae, since the founder had created ten in each tribe, the whole of the Roman people, at that time enclosed within the walls of the city, was composed of thirty curiae, each with its own temples, its Gods, its officials, its priests and its festivals called compitalia, which resembled the Paganalia later held by the rustic tribes.

When Servius introduced his new division, this number of thirty could not be divided equally between his four tribes, and he did not wish to alter it; in conse quence, the curiae, becoming independent of the tribes, formed another category of inhabitants of Rome. But there was no question of curiae in the rustic tribes or among the people who belonged to them; for after the tribes had become a purely civil institution, and another system introduced for the levying of troops, the military divisions of Romulus proved superfluous. Thus, although each citizen was enrolled in a tribe, there were many who were not members of a curia.

Servius made yet a third division, which had nothing to do with the first two, and which became by reason of its consequences the most important of all. He distributed the whole Roman people into six classes, arranged neither on a personal nor on a residential basis, but according to wealth; so that the first classes were filled with the rich, the last with the poor, and the intermediate classes with men of moderate fortunes. These six classes were subdivided into 193 other bodies called centuries, and these bodies were so distributed that the first class accounted for more than half of them, and the last class for a single one only. Thus it came about that the class with the fewest number of men had the greatest number of centuries, while the last whole class counted only as one single subdivision, although it contained more than half the inhabitants of Rome.

In order that the people should less well perceive the consequences of this division, Servius disguised it in a military form; he put into the second class two centuries of armourers and into the fourth class two centuries of weapon-makers. In each class, except the last, he differentiated between young and old, that is to say, between those liable to bear arms and those legally exempt on grounds of age; and this distinction, more than that of wealth, made it necessary to hold frequent censuses. Finally he prescribed that the assembly should be held in the Campus Martius, and that all those of military age should attend bearing arms.

The reason he did not make the same differentiation between young and old in the last class is simply that the common people who belonged to it did not have the honour of bearing arms in the service of their country; only those who owned hearths had the right to defend them. Among the countless hordes of beggars who ornament the armies of kings today there is perhaps none who would not have been expelled with disdain from a Roman cohort in the days when soldiers were the defenders of liberty.

In the last class, however, a distinction was made between proletarians and those who were called capite censi. The former, not wholly reduced to nothing, at least gave citizens to the state, even sometimes soldiers in times of pressing need. But those who possessed nothing whatever, and could be reckoned only by the counting of heads, were considered to be nonentities, and Marius was the first who condescended to enrol them.

Without deciding here whether this third classification was good or bad in itself, one can, I think, safely say that it was practicable only because of the simple habits of the early Romans, their taste for agriculture, and their contempt alike for commerce and for the pursuit of profit. Where is the modern people, whose devouring greed, unsettled hearts, intrigue, continual movement and constant reversals of fortune would have allowed such a system to last for twenty years without overturning the whole state? It should also be remembered that the morals of the Roman people and the office of censorship had the strength to correct the evils of this system, and that a rich man could find himself relegated to the class of the poor for making too ostentatious a display of his wealth.

From all this it is easy to understand why more than five Roman classes are hardly ever mentioned, even though there were actually six. The sixth, which provided neither soldiers for the army nor voters for the Campus Martius【4】 and had therefore virtually no function in the Republic, was seldom given any thought.

Such were the different divisions of the Roman people. Let us now consider the effect the divisions had in the assemblies. The assemblies which were lawfully convened were called comitia, and generally met in the Roman forum or in the Campus Martius; they were distinguished as comitia curiata, comitia centuriata and comitia tributa, according to which form was employed. The comitia curiata was founded by Romulus, the comitia centuriata by Servius, and the comitia tributa originated in the tribunes of the people. No law was sanctioned and no magistrate elected except in the comitia, and as there was no citizen who was not enrolled in a curia, century or tribe, it follows that no citizen was excluded from the right to vote, and that the Roman people was truly sovereign, both in law and in fact.

For the comitia to be legally convened and for its decisions to have the force of law, three conditions had to be observed: first, the body or the magistrate convening the assembly had to be vested with the necessary authority; secondly, the assembly had to be held on one of the days permitted by law; thirdly, the auguries had to be favourable.

The reason for the first of these rules needs no explanation. The second was a matter of policy; the assembly was not allowed to meet on holidays or market days, because the country people, who came to Rome to do business, did not have time to spend the day in the forum. The third rule enabled the Senate to keep a restraining hand on a proud and restless people and temper the ardour of seditious tribunes — although the latter found more than one way of evading this check.

Laws and the election of chiefs were not the only matters submitted to the judgement of the comitia. Since the Roman people had usurped the most important functions of government, one could say that the fate of Europe was determined in those assemblies. The variety of public business explains the several forms which the comitia took, according to the matters which had to be decided.

To judge these various forms it is necessary only to compare them. Romulus, in establishing the curiae, aimed to balance the Senate against the people and balance the people against the Senate, while himself dominating both alike. Under this arrangement he gave the people all the authority of numbers to balance the authority of power and wealth which he left to the patricians. But true to the spirit of monarchy, he nevertheless gave the great advantage to the patricians, in that they could buy clients to influence numerical majorities. This admirable institution of patrons and clients was a masterpiece of politics and humanity, without which the patriciate, so contrary to the spirit of the Republic, could not have survived. To Rome alone belongs the honour of giving the world this noble example, from which no abuse has ever come, but which has never been followed elsewhere.

This same form of curiae continued under the kings up to Servius, and as the reign of the last of the Tarquins was not held to be legitimate, the royal laws were generally known by the name of leges curiatae.

Under the Republic, the curiae, which were still limited to the four urban tribes, and still included only the population of Rome, pleased neither the Senate, which led the patricians, nor the tribunes who, in spite of being plebeian, led the more moneyed citizens. Thus the curiae fell into discredit, fell so low indeed that their thirty lictors met to do what the comitia curiae should have done.

The division into centuries was so favourable to the aristocracy that it is not at first easy to see why the Senate did not always carry the day in the comitia which bore that name, and by which the consuls, censors and other cural magistrates were elected. For indeed, of the 193 centuries which formed the six classes of the entire Roman people, the first class contained ninety-eight, and since votes were counted by centuries only, this first class had a majority over all the others. When all these centuries were in agreement, the rest of the votes were not even counted; and what had been decided by a minority passed for a decision of the multitude; so it can be said that in the centuriate assemblies matters were decided by majorities of money rather than of votes.

But this excessive power was tempered in two ways. First, the tribunes ordinarily, and a large number of plebeians always, were in a class with the rich, and balanced the influence of the patricians in the first class.

Secondly, the centuries were not always summoned to vote in their order or rank, which would have meant beginning with the first class; instead, a century was chosen by lot【5】 and that century alone went on to elect, after which the other centuries were convened on a different day by order of rank to repeat the election, and generally they confirmed it. Thus the authority of example was taken away from rank and given to chance, according to the principle of democracy.

This custom had yet another advantage; it meant that the citizens from the country had time between the elections to inform themselves of the merits of the candidates provisionally nominated, and therefore did not vote in ignorance. But under the pretext of speeding up procedure this custom was finally abolished, and both elections were held on the same day.

The comitia tributa was, strictly speaking, the council of the Roman people. It could be convened only by the tribunes; it was the assembly where the tribunes were elected and it was there that they passed their plebiscites. Not only had the Senate no status in the assembly, but no senator had even the right to attend, and being thus forced to submit to laws in the enactment of which they had no voice, the senators were to that extent less free than the humblest citizen. This injustice was altogether ill conceived, and alone sufficed to invalidate the decrees of a body to which all its members were not admitted. Had all the patricians attended the comitia, according to their rights as citizens, they would not, as simple individuals, have had any great influence on a vote taken by enumerating heads, and in which the humblest proletarian would count for as much as the prince of the Senate.

Thus, it will be seen that besides the order which emerged from the various systems of collecting the votes of so vast a people, these several methods were not in themselves insignificant, but that each had effects connected with the opinions that led to its being chosen.

Without going further into long details, it emerges from the explanation already given, that the comitia tributa was the assembly most favourable to popular government and the comitia centuriata to aristocracy. In the case of the comitia curiata, where the populace of Rome alone formed the majority, their tendency to favour tyranny and evil designs led them to fall into disrepute, so that even the seditious elements avoided these assemblies lest their presence should arouse suspicion concerning their conspiracies. There is no doubt that the whole majesty of the Roman people was to be seen only in the comitia centuriata; this alone was a full assembly, for the comitia curiata excluded the rustic tribes and the comitia tributa excluded the Senate and patricians.

The system of voting used by the Romans was as simple as were their manners and morals, if less simple than that of Sparta. Each man gave his vote by word of mouth, and a clerk recorded it; the majority of individual votes in each tribe determined the decision of that tribe, the majority of tribal votes the decision of the people; and the same thing was done in the curiae and centuriae. This was a good method so long as honesty prevailed among the citizens and everyone was ashamed to give his vote in public to an unjust cause or an unworthy candidate. But when the people grew corrupt and votes were bought, it became expedient for the ballot to be cast in secret, so that the buyers of votes might be restrained by mistrust of the sellers, and scoundrels given the chance of not being traitors also.

I am aware that Cicero condemns this change of method, and holds it partly responsible for the ruin of the Republic. But while I am mindful of the weight which the authority of Cicero ought to bear, I do not agree with him. On the contrary, I think that it was by having too few such changes that the ruin of the state was accelerated. For just as the diet of healthy people is unsuited to the sick, so one should not try to give to a corrupt people the same laws as those which suit a virtuous people. Nothing does more to bear out this principle than the long life of the Republic of Venice, which still retains a simulacrum of existence solely because its laws are uniquely suited to wicked men.

Now the Roman citizens had tablets distributed among them, so that each might cast his vote without anyone's knowing his opinion. New arrangements were also devised for the collection of tablets, the counting of votes, the comparison of numbers, and so forth. This did not prevent the officers entrusted with these functions from being suspected of dishonesty. Finally, edicts designed to prevent intrigue and the buying and selling of votes were passed in such numbers that their very multiplicity proclaims their ineffectiveness.

Towards the last years of the Republic, the Romans were often forced to resort to extraordinary expedients to make up for the inadequacy of the law. Sometimes miracles were invoked, but this device, if it could impose on the people, did not overawe those who ruled them. Sometimes assemblies were hurriedly convened, before candidates had time to pay out their bribes; sometimes a whole session was taken up with filibustering, when it was seen that the people had been seduced and was about to make a wrong decision. But ambition in the end overcame all obstacles; and the most incredible fact of all is that so numerous a people, in the midst of so many abuses, still continued, thanks to its ancient rules of order, to elect magistrates, to enact laws, to judge cases and to conduct private and public business with almost as much facility as the Senate itself might have commanded.

A wisely tempered tribunate is the strongest buttress of a good constitution, but if it has the least degree of power beyond what is necessary, it will overthrow everything. It is not by its nature prone to weakness, and if it is anything at all, it will never be less than it ought to be.

It degenerates into tyranny when it usurps the executive power of which it is only the moderator, and when it tries to make the laws it ought only to protect. The enormous power of the Ephors, which represented no danger so long as Sparta preserved its morale, sped corruption once corruption began. The blood of Agis shed by the tyrants was avenged by his successor; the crimes and the punishments of the Ephors equally hastened the collapse of the Republic, and after Cleomenes, Sparta was nothing. Rome perished in the same way, and the excessive power which the tribunes usurped by degrees finally served, with the aid of laws made to defend liberty, to protect the very emperors who destroyed liberty. As for the Council of Ten in Venice, it is a tribunal of blood, which is baneful as much to the patricians as to the people, and which, far from giving supreme protection to the law, serves only, now that the law has been debased, for the striking of stealthy blows that none dare look upon.

A tribunate, like a government, is weakened by the multiplication of its members. When the tribunes of the Roman people, originally two, then five, sought to double their number, the Senate gave its consent, confident of using one part to check the others; and this it did not fail to effect.

The best method of preventing the usurpations of such a formidable body — though it is a method which no government has ever yet employed — would be not to make the tribunate permanent but to prescribe the intervals during which it should remain suspended. These intervals, which should not be so great as to give abuses time to take root, could be specified by law in such a manner that in case of need they might be shortened by an extraordinary commission.

This method appears to me to have no disadvantages, for since, as I have said, the tribunate is in no sense a part of the constitution, it can be removed without detriment to it; this also seems to me an efficacious method, since a newly established magistrate would not enter office with the power that his predecessors had, but only with that given him by law.

CHAPTER 6

Dictatorship

THE inflexibility of the laws, which prevents them from bending to circumstances, may in certain cases make them injurious, and bring about in a time of crisis the ruin of the state. The ordered and slow procedures of legal formalities require a measure of time that circumstances do not always afford. There may be a thousand eventualities which the lawgiver has not foreseen, and it is a very necessary part of foresight to know that one cannot foresee everything.

For this reason, one should not seek to make political institutions so rigid that one is deprived of the power to suspend their operation. Even Sparta allowed its laws at times to lie dormant.

But it is only the greatest emergency that can counterweigh the dangers of tampering with the public order; and the sacred power of the laws should never be suspended except when the safety of the fatherland is at stake. In these rare and obvious cases, the public security is provided for by a special act making that security the responsibility of the person who is most worthy. This responsibility may be assigned in two ways, according to the nature of the emergency.

If increasing the activity of the government is adequate to counteract the danger, then this activity should be concentrated in the hands of one or two members of the government. In this case, it is not the authority of the laws which is being diminished, but only the form of the administration. But if the danger is such that the apparatus of law is itself an obstacle to safety, then a supreme head must be nominated with power to silence all the laws and temporarily suspend the sovereign authority. In such a case the general will is indubitable; for it is clear that the prime concern of the people is that the state shall not perish. Thus the suspension of the legislative authority does not abolish it; the magistrate who silences it cannot speak for it; he dominates it, without having the power to represent it; he can do everything, except make laws.

The first of these two methods was used by the Roman Senate when, according to a hallowed formula, it entrusted the consuls with the safety of the Republic; the second was used when one of the two consuls nominated a dictator【6】 — a device that Rome had learned from Alba.

At the beginning of the Republic, the Romans often resorted to dictatorship, because conditions were not yet sufficiently settled for the state to maintain itself by the strength of its constitution. The people's moral character made unnecessary at that time many of the precautions which might have been needed at other times, so men did not fear that a dictator would abuse his position or that he would attempt to prolong his office beyond its term. It seemed, on the contrary, that so much power was a burden to those who wielded it; for they hastened to divest themselves of it, as if standing in the place of the laws made it altogether too onerous and perilous an office.

So it is not because there was a danger of its being abused, but because there was a danger of its being degraded that one condemns the imprudent employment of this supreme magistrature in the early days of the Republic. For while it was wasted on elections, dedications and purely formal things, there was reason to fear that it would become less forceful when it was really needed, and that the people would come to regard dictatorship as an empty title used only to give dignity to idle ceremonies.

Towards the end of the Republic, the Romans, becoming more circumspect, were as sparing in their use of dictatorship as they had once been prodigal, and with as little reason. It was easy to see that their fears were ill founded, and that the weakness of the capital was at that time its protection against the magistrates it had in its midst, that a dictator could in certain cases defend the public freedom without ever being able to invade it, and that the fetters of Rome were not forged in Rome itself, but in the Roman armies; the weak resistance that Marius offered Sulla, and Pompey Caesar, showed plainly what could be expected of internal authority faced with external force.

This mistake led the Romans to commit great wrongs. There was, for example, their failure to nominate a dictator in the Catilina affair; for since this was a matter which concerned only the city itself, or at most some Italian province, the unlimited authority which the law gave a dictator would have facilitated the ready crushing of that conspiracy, which was in fact suppressed only by a concurrence of lucky accidents, such as human prudence could never have expected.

Instead of naming a dictator, the Senate was content to transmit all its powers to the consuls, as a result of which Cicero, in order to act effectively, was obliged to exceed his powers on a crucial point; and though, in a first transport of joy, the Romans approved of his conduct, it was not without justice that he was afterwards asked to account for the blood of citizens shed in violation of the laws — a reproach which could not have been addressed to a dictator. But the consul's eloquence carried everything before him, and he himself, though a Roman, loved his own glory better than his country; and instead of seeking a lawful and certain means of serving the state, he sought all the honour of the affair for himself.【7】 Thus he was justly honoured as the liberator of Rome, and no less justly punished as the violator of Roman laws. However splendid his recall from exile may have been, it was undoubtedly an act of pardon.

For the rest, in whatever manner this important commission of dictatorship is conferred, it is imperative to limit its duration to one short term that can never be prolonged; in the emergencies which call for its institution, the state is soon lost or saved, and once the urgent need is over, dictatorship becomes either tyrannical or useless. In Rome, where the term was of six months, most of the dictators abdicated before that time had expired. If the term had been longer, they might have been tempted to prolong it still further, like the decemvirs, who held office for a year. The dictator, having only the time to meet the need which had prompted his appointment, had none in which to meditate on further projects.

CHAPTER 7

The Censorial Tribunal

JUST as the general will is declared by the law, so is the public judgement declared by the censorial office; public opinion is that form of law of which the censor is the minister, and which he, on the model of the prince, merely applies to particular cases.

Far, then, from the censorial tribunal being the arbiter of the people's opinion, it is only the spokesman; and as soon as it departs from this, its decisions are void and without effect.

It is useless to separate the morals of a nation from the objects of its esteem; for both spring from the same principle and both necessarily merge together. Among all the peoples of the world, it is not nature but opinion which governs the choice of their pleasures. Reform the opinions of men, and their morals will be purified of themselves. Men always love what is good or what they think is good, but it is in their judgement that they err; hence it is their judgement that has to be regulated. To judge morals is to judge what is honoured; to judge what is honoured, is to look to opinion as law.

The opinions of a people spring from its constitution; although the law does not regulate morals, it is legislation that gives birth to morals; when legislation weakens, morals degenerate; and then the rulings of the censors will not accomplish what the law has failed to achieve.

From this it follows that the censorial office may be useful in preserving morals, but never in restoring morals. Set up censors while the laws are still vigorous; for as soon as the vigour is lost, everything is hopeless; nothing legitimate has any force once the laws have force no longer.

The censorial office sustains morals by preventing opinions from being corrupted, by preserving their integrity with wise rulings, and sometimes even by settling points on which opinion is uncertain. The use of seconds in duels, carried to an impassioned extreme in the kingdom of France, was abolished by a single edict of the King: 'as for those who are cowardly enough to name seconds'. This judgement anticipated that of the public, and settled it with one stroke. But when the same edicts sought to declare that it was also cowardice to fight duels — which is very true, but at variance with popular opinion — the public scoffed at this decision on a matter about which its mind was made up.

I have said elsewhere that since public opinion is not subject to constraint, there should be no vestige of constraint in the tribunal established to represent it. We cannot too greatly admire the skill with which this device, entirely alien to the moderns, was put into effect by the Romans and even better by the Lacedaemonians.

Once when a man of bad character put forward a good idea in the council of Sparta, the Ephors, ignoring him, had the same thing proposed by a virtuous citizen. What an honour for the one, what a disgrace for the other; yet neither praise nor blame was given to either. Certain drunkards from Samos once defiled the tribunal of the Ephors; the following day the Samians were given permission by public edict to be filthy. An actual punishment would have been less severe than such a form of impunity. When Sparta has pronounced on what is and what is not decent, Greece does not dispute its judgements.

CHAPTER 8

The Civil Religion

AT first men had no kings but the Gods, and their only government was theocratic. They reasoned like Caligula, and in the circumstances they reasoned rightly. A prolonged modification of feelings and ideas was needed before man could make up his mind to accept one of his own kind as master, and to persuade himself that in doing so he had done well.

From this single fact, that a God was placed at the head of every political society, it follows that there were as many Gods as peoples. Two peoples alien to one another, and nearly always enemies, could not long recognize the same master: two armies going into battle could not obey the same commander. Thus national divisions produced polytheism, and this in turn produced religious and civil intolerance, which are naturally the same, as I shall explain later.

The fanciful idea of the Greeks that they had discovered their own Gods being worshipped by barbarian peoples originated in the Greek habit of regarding themselves as the natural sovereigns of those same peoples. But in our own times, it is a ludicrous parody of learning which studies the identity of the Gods of different nations, as if Moloch, Saturn and Chronos could be the same God, as if the Baal of the Phoenicians, the Zeus of the Greeks, and the Jupiter of the Romans could be identical; as if there could be anything in common between chimerical beings with different names!

But if it is asked why under paganism, when each state had its own religious cult and its own Gods, there were no wars of religion, I answer that it was due to this very fact that each state, having its own faith as well as its own government, did not distinguish between its Gods and its laws. Political war was just as much theological war; the provinces of the Gods were determined, so to speak, by the frontiers of nations. The God of one people had no rights over other peoples. The Gods of the Pagans were in no sense jealous Gods; they divided the empire of the world between them; even Moses and the Hebrew people sometimes countenanced this idea by speaking of the God of Israel. It is true that they did not recognize the Gods of the Canaanites, a proscribed people who were doomed to destruction, and whose country they were to occupy; but consider how they spoke of the divinities of neighbouring peoples, whom they were forbidden to attack: 'Is not the possession of that which belongs to Chamos your God lawfully your due?' says Jephthah to the Ammonites. 'By the same title we possess the lands which our conquering God has taken.'【8】

But when the Jews, subject to the Kings of Babylon, and afterwards to the Kings of Syria, stubbornly sought to recognize no other God but their own, this refusal was regarded as a rebellion against their conquerors, and it brought on the Jews those persecutions of which we read in their history, and of which we find no other example before the coming of Christianity.【9】

Since each religion was thus attached exclusively to the laws of the state which prescribed it, and since there was no means of converting people except by subduing them, the only missionaries were conquerors; and since the obligation to change faith was part of the law of conquest, it was necessary to conquer before preaching conversion. Far from men fighting for the Gods, it was, as in Homer, the Gods who fought for men; each people asked its own God for victory, and paid for it with new altars. The Romans, before taking a town, called upon its Gods to abandon it; when they allowed the Tarentines to keep their angry Gods, it was in the belief that those Gods were subject to their own and obliged to pay them homage. They let the vanquished keep their own Gods just as they let them keep their own laws. A crown dedicated to Jupiter of the Capitol was often the only tribute they exacted.

In the end, when the Romans had spread their faith and their Gods with their empire, and often themselves adopted those of the vanquished in giving all and sundry the rights of citizenship, the peoples of this vast empire gradually found themselves with a multitude of Gods and faiths, which were everywhere almost the same; and this is how paganism became one and the same religion throughout the known world.

It was in these circumstances that Jesus came to establish a spiritual kingdom on earth; this kingdom, by separating the theological system from the political, meant that the state ceased to be a unity, and it caused those intestine divisions which have never ceased to disturb Christian peoples. Now as this new idea of a kingdom of another world could never have entered the minds of pagans, they always regarded the Christians as true rebels who, under the cloak of hypocritical submission, only awaited the moment to make themselves independent and supreme, and cunningly to usurp that authority which they made a show of respecting while they were weak. Such was the cause of the persecutions.

What the pagans feared did indeed happen; then everything altered its countenance; the humble Christians changed their tune and soon the so-called kingdom of the other world was seen to become, under a visible ruler, the most violent despotism of this world.

However, since princes and civil laws continued to exist, the consequence of this dual power has been an endless conflict of jurisdiction, which has made any kind of good polity impossible in Christian states, where men have never known whether they ought to obey the civil ruler or the priest.

Many peoples, even in Europe or nearby, have tried to preserve or re-establish the ancient system, but without success: the spirit of Christianity has won completely. The religious cult has always kept, or recovered, its independence of the sovereign, and has lacked its necessary connexion with the state. Mahomet had very sound opinions, taking care to give unity to his political system, and for as long as the form of his government endured under the caliphs who succeeded him, the government was undivided and, to that extent, good. But the Arabs, in becoming prosperous, cultured, polite, effeminate and soft, were subjugated by the barbarians; then the division between the two powers was started afresh, and even though the division is less apparent among the Moslems than among the Christians, it nevertheless exists, above all in the sect of Ali and in states like Persia where it has never ceased to make itself felt.

Among us, the Kings of England have established themselves as heads of the church and the Czars have done the same. But with this title they have made themselves not so much masters as ministers, and have acquired not so much the right to change the church as the power to preserve it; they are not legislators, they are only princes. Wherever the clergy constitutes a body,【10】 it is master and legislator in its own house. Thus there are two powers, two sovereigns, in England and in Russia, just as there are elsewhere.

Of all Christian authors, the philosopher Hobbes is the only one who saw clearly both the evil and the remedy, and who dared to propose reuniting the two heads of the eagle and fully restoring that political unity without which neither the state nor the government will ever be well constituted. But he should have seen that the dominant spirit of Christianity was incompatible with his system, and that the interest of the prince will always be stronger than that of the state. It is not so much the horrible and false parts of Hobbes's system that have made it hated, but the parts which are just and true.【11】

I believe that if the historical facts were analysed from this point of view, we could easily refute the opposing beliefs of both Bayle and Warburton, the one holding that no religion is useful to the body politic, the other that Christianity is its best support. We could refute the first by showing that no state has ever been founded without religion as its base; and we could refute the second by showing that the Christian law is at bottom more injurious than serviceable to a robust constitution of the state. For this to be clearly understood, I think I have only to give a little more precision to the exceedingly vague idea of religion, as it bears upon my subject.

Religion, considered in connexion with societies, whether general or particular, can be divided into two categories, the religion of the man and the religion of the citizen. The first, without temples, altars or rituals, and limited to inward devotion to the supreme God and the eternal obligations of morality, is the pure and simple religion of the Gospel, the true theism, and might be called the divine natural law. The religion of the citizen is the religion established in a single country; it gives that country its Gods and its special tutelary deities; it has its dogmas, its rituals, its external forms of worship laid down by law; and to the one nation which practises this religion, everything outside is infidel, alien, barbarous; and it extends the rights and duties of man only so far as it extends its altars. Such were the religions of all the early peoples; and we might give it the name of civil or positive divine law.

There is a third and more curious kind of religion, which, giving men two legislative orders, two rulers, two homelands, puts them under two contradictory obligations, and prevents their being at the same time both churchmen and citizens. Such is the religion of the Lamas, such is that of the Japanese, and such is Catholic Christianity. One might call this the religion of the priest. It produces a kind of mixed and anti-social system of law which has no name.

From the political point of view, each of these three kinds of religion has its defects. The third kind is so manifestly bad that the pleasure of demonstrating its badness would be a waste of time. Everything that destroys social unity is worthless; and all institutions that set man at odds with himself are worthless.

The second kind of religion is good in that it joins divine worship to a love of the law, and that in making the homeland the object of the citizens' adoration, it teaches them that the service of the state is the service of the tutelary God. This is a kind of theocracy, in which there can be no pontiff other than the prince, and no priests except the magistrates. Then to die for one's country is to become a martyr, to break the law to be impious, and to subject a guilty man to public execration is to hand him over to the wrath of God: sacer esto.

But this kind of religion is also bad; since it is based on error and lies, it deceives men, and makes them credulous and superstitious; it buries the true worship of God in empty ceremonials. It is bad, again, when it becomes exclusive and tyrannical, and makes a people bloodthirsty and intolerant, so that men breathe only murder and massacre, and believe they are doing a holy deed in killing those who do not accept their Gods. This puts the people concerned into a natural state of war with all others, and this is something destructive of its own security.

There remains the religion of humanity, or Christianity, not the Christianity of today, but that of the Gospel, which is altogether different. Under this holy, sublime and true religion, men, as children of the same God, look on all others as brothers, and the society which unites them is not even dissolved by death.

But this religion, having no specific connexion with the body politic, leaves the law with only the force the law itself possesses, adding nothing to it; and hence one of the chief bonds necessary for holding any particular society together is lacking. Nor is this all: for far from attaching the hearts of the citizens to the state, this religion detaches them from it as from all other things of this world; and I know of nothing more contrary to the social spirit.

It is said that a people of true Christians would form the most perfect society imaginable. I see but one great flaw in this hypothesis, namely that a society of true Christians would not be a society of men.

I would even say that this imagined society, with all its perfection, would be neither the strongest nor the most durable. Being perfect, it would be without bonds of union; its ruinous defect would lie in its very perfection.

Everyone would do his duty; the people would obey the law; the rulers would be just and moderate; the magistrates would be honest and incorruptible; the soldiers would scorn death; there would be neither vanity nor luxury; and all that is very fine. But let us look further.

Christianity is a wholly spiritual religion, concerned solely with the things of heaven; the Christian's homeland is not of this world. The Christian does his duty, it is true, but he does it with profound indifference towards the good or ill success of his deeds. Provided that he has nothing to reproach himself for, it does not matter to him whether all goes well or badly here on earth. If the state prospers, he hardly dares to enjoy the public happiness; he fears lest he become proud of his country's glory; if the state perishes, he blesses the hand of God that weighs heavily on His people.

For such a society to be peaceful and for harmony to prevail, every citizen without exception would have to be an equally good Christian. If, unhappily, there should appear one ambitious man, one hypocrite, one Catilina, for example, or one Cromwell among them, that man would readily exploit his pious compatriots. Christian charity does not allow us readily to think ill of our neighbours. When a man is cunning enough to master the art of imposing on others, and gains a part of the public authority, there, behold, is a man who is given honours; and God wills that he be respected; soon, we see a man of power, and God wills that he be obeyed. Suppose he abuses the power of which he is the trustee? Then he is the scourge with which God chastises his children. Christians would have scruples about expelling the usurper; for that would mean disturbing the public peace, using violence, shedding blood, and all this accords ill with Christian mildness. And after all what does it matter whether one is free or a slave in this vale of tears? The essential thing is to go to paradise, and resignation is but one more means to that end.

Suppose a foreign war breaks out. The citizens will march without reluctance to war; no one among them will think of flight; all will do their duty — but they will do it without passion for victory; they know better how to die than to conquer. It does not matter to them whether they are victors or vanquished. Does not providence know better than they what is needful? One can imagine what advantage a proud, impetuous and passionate enemy would draw from their stoicism. Set them at war against a generous people whose hearts are devoured by an ardent love of glory and their country; imagine your Christian republic confronted by Sparta or Rome, and your pious Christians will be beaten, crushed, destroyed before they have time to collect their wits, or they will owe their salvation only to the contempt which their enemy feels for them.

I myself think it was an excellent oath that was taken by the soldiers of Fabius; they did not swear to conquer or die, but to return as conquerors, and they kept their word. Christians would never have dared to do this; they would have felt that it was tempting God.

But I err in speaking of a Christian republic; for each of these terms contradicts the other. Christianity preaches only servitude and submission. Its spirit is too favourable to tyranny for tyranny not to take advantage of it. True Christians are made to be slaves; they know it and they hardly care; this short life has too little value in their eyes.

It is said that Christian troops are excellent. I deny it. Show me these Christian troops. Personally I know of none. You may mention the crusades. But without disputing the valour of the crusaders, I shall say that they were far from being Christians. They were soldiers of the priests. They were citizens of the Church; they were fighting for its spiritual homeland, which it had in some strange way made temporal. Strictly speaking, this comes under the heading of paganism; for since the Gospel never sets up any national religion, holy war is impossible among Christians.

Under the pagan Emperors, Christian soldiers were brave. All the Christian authors tell us this, and I believe them; but those soldiers were competing for honour against pagan troops. Once the Emperors became Christian, this emulation ceased; and once the cross had driven out the eagle, all Roman valour disappeared.

But leaving aside considerations of politics, let us return to those of right; and settle the principles which govern this important question. The right which the social pact gives the sovereign over the subjects does not, as I have said, go beyond the boundaries of public utility.【12】 Subjects have no duty to account to the sovereign for their beliefs except when those beliefs are important to the community. Now it is very important to the state that each citizen should have a religion which makes him love his duty, but the dogmas of that religion are of interest neither to the state nor its members, except in so far as those dogmas concern morals and the duties which everyone who professes that religion is bound to perform towards others. Moreover, everyone may hold whatever opinions he pleases, without the sovereign having any business to take cognizance of them. For the sovereign has no competence in the other world; whatever may be the fate of the subjects in the life to come, it is nothing to do with the sovereign, so long as they are good citizens in this life.

There is thus a profession of faith which is purely civil and of which it is the sovereign's function to determine the articles, not strictly as religious dogmas, but as expressions of social conscience, without which it is impossible to be either a good citizen or a loyal subject.【13】 Without being able to oblige anyone to believe these articles, the sovereign can banish from the state anyone who does not believe them; banish him not for impiety but as an anti-social being, as one unable sincerely to love law and justice, or to sacrifice, if need be, his life to his duty. If anyone, after having publicly acknowledged these same dogmas, behaves as if he did not believe in them, then let him be put to death, for he has committed the greatest crime, that of lying before the law.

The dogmas of the civil religion must be simple and few in number, expressed precisely and without explanations or commentaries. The existence of an omnipotent, intelligent, benevolent divinity that foresees and provides; the life to come; the happiness of the just; the punishment of sinners; the sanctity of the social contract and the law — these are the positive dogmas. As for the negative dogmas, I would limit them to a single one: no intolerance. Intolerance is something which belongs to the religions we have rejected.

In my opinion, those who distinguish between civil and theological intolerance are mistaken. These two forms of intolerance are inseparable. It is impossible to live in peace with people one believes to be damned; to love them would be to hate the God who punishes them; it is an absolute duty either to redeem or to torture them. Wherever theological intolerance is admitted, it is bound to have some civil consequences,【14】 and when it does so, the sovereign is no longer sovereign, even in the temporal sphere; at this stage the priests become the real masters, and kings are only their officers.

Now that there is not, and can no longer be, an exclusive national religion, all religions which themselves tolerate others must be tolerated, provided only that their dogmas contain nothing contrary to the duties of the citizen. But anyone who dares to say 'Outside the church there is no salvation' should be expelled from the state, unless the state is the church and the prince the pontiff. Such a dogma is good only in a theocratic government; in any other, it is pernicious. The reason for which Henri Ⅳ is said to have embraced the Catholic religion is one which should make all honest men abandon it, above all any prince who knows how to reason.

CHAPTER 9

Conclusion

AFTER setting out the true principles of political right, and trying to establish the state on the basis of those principles, I should complete my study by considering the foreign relations of the state, including international law, commerce, the rights of war and conquest, public law, leagues, negotiations, treaties and so forth. But all this would represent a new subject too vast for my weak vision; and I ought always to keep my eyes fixed on matters more within my range.

Note

【1】 This should always be understood to refer only to free states, for elsewhere family, property, lack of asylum, necessity or violence may keep an inhabitant in the country unwillingly, and then his mere residence no longer implies consent either to the contract or to the violation of the contract.

【2】 In Genoa the word Libertas may be seen on the doors of all the prisons and on the fetters of the galleys. This use of the motto is excellent and just. In fact, it is only the malefactors of all states who prevent the citizens from being free. In a country where all such people were in the galleys, the most perfect liberty would be enjoyed.

【3】 The name 'Rome', which is said to derive from Romulus, is really Greek, and it means force; the name 'Numa' is also Greek, and it means law. Is it very probable that the first two kings of that city should have borne before they reigned names so clearly related to what they did?

【4】 I say 'Campus Martius' because this was where the comitia centuriata met. In the other two forms of assembly, the people met in the forum or elsewhere, and then the capite censi had as much influence and authority as the leading citizens.

【5】 The century thus drawn was called praerogativa because it was the first required to cast its vote; and this is the origin of our word 'prerogative'.

【6】 This nomination took place by night and in secret, as if they were ashamed to put a man above the law.

【7】 He could not have been sure of this if he had proposed appointing a dictator, for he did not dare to name himself, and he could not be sure that his colleagues would name him.

【8】 Nonne ea quae possidet Chamos deus tuus, tibi jure debentur? Such is the text of the Vulgate. Father de Carrières translates it thus: 'Do you not believe that you have a right to possess that which belongs to your God Chamos?' I do not know the bearing of the Hebrew text, but I notice that in the Vulgate, Jephthah positively recognizes the rights of the God Chamos, and that the French translation weakens this recognition by adding an 'according to you' which is not in the Latin.

【9】 It is clear beyond dispute that the Phocian war, called the Holy War, was not a war of religion. Its object was to punish sacrilege, and not to make unbelievers submit.

【10】 It should be noted that it is not so much the formal assemblies, like those of France, which bind the clergy together in a body, but rather the communion of churches. Communion and excommunication are the social compact of the clergy, one through which they will always be masters of both peoples and kings. All the priests who communicate together are fellow citizens, even though they are at opposite ends of the earth. This invention is a masterpiece of politics. There was nothing like it among the pagan priests; hence they never constituted a body of clergy.

【11】 See, among other things, in a letter of Grotius to his brother dated 11 April 1643, what that learned man approved of and what he disapproved of in Hobbes's De Cive. It is true that, being inclined to indulgence, he forgives that author the good points for the sake of the bad, but not everyone is so merciful.

【12】 'In the republic,' says the M(arquis) d'A(rgenson), 'everyone is perfectly free to do what does not injure others.' Here is the invariable boundary; one could not express it more exactly. I have not been able to deny myself the pleasure of quoting sometimes from this manuscript, although it is not known to the public, in order to pay homage to the memory of an illustrious and honourable man, who, even as a Minister of State, kept the heart of a true citizen, together with just and sound opinions on the government of his country.

【13】 Caesar pleading for Catilina tried to establish the dogma of the mortality of the soul. Cato and Cicero, to refute it, did not waste time with philosophy; they were content to show that Caesar was speaking like a bad citizen and advancing a doctrine that was injurious to the state. And this was what the Senate had to give judgement on, not any question of theology.

【14】 Marriage, for example, being a civil contract, has civil consequences without which it would be impossible for society itself to subsist. Let us suppose that in a given country the clergy reached the point of gaining the sole right of permitting marriage, a right which it is bound to usurp under any intolerant religion. Is it not then clear that in making the authority of the church supreme in this matter, it will nullify that of the prince, who will then have no subjects other than those the clergy allow him to have? Enable priests to decide whether to marry people according to their assent to this or that doctrine, their assent to this or that formula, or according to their being more or less devout, then is it not clear that if the clergy acts shrewdly and holds firm, it will in time alone dispose of inheritances, offices, the citizens and the state itself, since the latter could not endure if composed only of bastards? But, you may say, men will call upon the temporal power, issue summonses and warrants, seize church properties. What a sorry sight! If the clergy has even a little, I do not say courage, but common sense, it will allow everything to go its own way; it will quietly let the summonses, the warrants and seizures take place and still end up as master. It is no great sacrifice, I feel, to give up a part when you are sure of securing the whole.

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企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

忏悔录

（英汉双语）

奥古斯丁　著　R.S.派因-科芬　英译
任小鹏　汉译

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第一卷

1

主啊！你是伟大的，任何赞美都当之无愧。你有无上的能力，无穷的智慧。主啊，人是你所造万物中的一分子，出于本性愿意赞美你。人遍体带着死亡的标记和原罪的记号，这是你要提醒他，你敌挡骄傲的人。但是，因为他是你所造的一部分，他仍愿意称颂你。一想到你，他就激动不已，如果不赞美你，他就无法获得满足。因为你造我们就是为了你自己，如不在你怀中安息，我们的心就不会安宁。

［……］

谁追寻主，谁就会赞颂主。因为凡追寻主的，就能寻见，寻见主的，就会赞颂主。主啊，我要追寻你，向你呼求，在我呼求的时候，我要相信你，因为你已经传授给了我们。主，我的信仰让我向你呼求，这信仰已经通过你道成肉身的爱子的感召和布道者的工作传递给了我们。

6

我虽然是尘土，但请让我乞求你的怜悯，因为我是在向你的慈爱说话，而不是向那嘲笑我的人说话。或许你也会嘲笑我，但你会动恻隐之心，然后怜悯我。主啊，我想告诉你的是，我不知道自己从何处来到这通向死亡的生命中，或者说，这通向生命的死亡中?对我来说，这些都是隐藏着的。虽然我已记不起这一切，但我知道，从我来到这个世间的那个时刻起，你的仁慈便时刻准备护佑我。这是我父母告诉我的，我父亲播下种子，母亲孕育了我，你用他们的身体在有限的时间内使我成形。从此女性的乳汁哺育了我。

［……］

我歌颂你，天地的主宰，从我降生起，在我记忆尚且模糊的时候，我就赞美你。但是，你允许人们通过观察别的婴儿来了解自己的这些事情，而且也从妇女的讲述中了解了许多。我知道即使在那时，我已是一个活生生的人，在婴儿期行将结束时，我已经试图寻找向别人表达感情的方法了。主啊，这样一个活生生的造物如不是从你而来，他还能来自何处呢？这是任何一个人的技能所能造出来的吗？除你以外还有任何其他渠道可供存在和生命流注到我们身上吗？当然我们只可能把这归结为你，我们的造物主，对你而言，活着与存在并非不同，因为无限的生命与无限的存在是同为一。因为你是无限的，和亘古不变的。你的“今天”永无止尽，而我们的“当下”因你而止步不前，因为时间，像其他事物一样存在于你里面。若非如此，就不会有时间的流逝。因为你的时间没有穷尽，时间因你而停留在“现在”。我们和我们的祖先在你的“当下”度过了无数的日子，并从中获得对人的生命和存在的准确衡量。未来的岁月也将照此流逝，但是你却亘古不易。在你的“今天”，你创造了明天和以后存在的一切，在你的“今天”，你创造了昨天和过去存在的一切。

如果有人对此难以理解，这与我何干？就让他们去探询其意义吧，让他们欣然地发问；但是他们可能对问题本身心满意足。因为对于他们来说，问题不得而解却找到你比找到答案却失去你更有益处。

7

上帝啊，请听我说。人的罪真是邪恶啊！一个人说了这话，你就怜悯他，因为你造了他，但你没有造他里面的罪。

谁能让我记起我儿时犯下的罪呢？在你的眼中没有一个人是无罪的，即使是刚刚出生才一天的婴儿也不例外。谁能展示我的罪呢？也许可以从婴儿身上看到我无从回忆的儿时的罪恶？那么，我儿时犯过什么罪呢？我哭闹着要吸乳是不是罪恶呢？我现在已经年龄大了，不能再吸乳了，但如果我哭闹着要我这个年龄的食物，一定会受到别人轻蔑的嘲笑和劝诫。所以这意味着我儿时的行为就应该受到斥责。因为我不懂斥责，斥责我的话就显得既不合情理，也不寻常。我们杜绝这些错误，并且在长大后将其摒弃，这足以证明那些行为是错误的，因为我从来没有看见一个人在清理错误时会有目的的抛弃好的方面。对于一个孩子来说，以下行为都不可能是正确的：哭着要可能会伤害他们的任何东西；对年长的人发脾气，以为年长者不需要服从他；尽其全力打击和伤害那些比他懂得更多的人，包括他自己的父母，原因是父母不但不顺从他们，而且拒绝迎合那些只会伤害他的奇思怪想。这表明，如果说婴儿是无罪的，就是说婴儿不是缺乏伤害他人的意愿，而是没有能力。

［……］

主啊，我记不起我的幼年生活了，但是我相信别人告诉我的，通过观察其他婴儿，我可以推断出我也像它们那样生活过。但是，尽管我的推断是正确的，我却不想把那段时间作为我现在度过的人生的一部分，因为那段生活晦暗模糊、记忆不清，而且，在这个意义上，它与我在母亲子宫里的时光没什么区别。但是，如果我生来有罪，并且在母胎时，我就有了罪。那么，主啊，我问你，我，你的仆人，在何时何地曾是无罪的呢？但是，我不会再谈论那段时光了，因为在我记忆中，它已经无处可寻，它不会再困扰我了。

9

但上帝啊，我的主，现在我正经历一段痛苦和羞辱的时期。别人告诉我，一个男孩必须听老师的话，这才是正确与合适的，只有这样才能学好语法，出人头地。这就是在世界上获得别人尊敬、为自己获得财富的途径。于是我被送到学校去读书。我年龄太小，不能领会学习的用处何在，如果我疏于学习，我就会挨打，因为传统上喜欢用责打来教育孩子。记不清曾经有多少男孩为我们铺成了这条心酸的道路，并且我们也必须走过这条路，为亚当的子孙增添劳累和悲伤。

但是我们发现一些人向你祷告，主啊，并且我们效法他们做同样的事情，用我们唯一能够理解的方式来思想你，把你想象成某些能够倾听并帮助我们的大人物，尽管我们不能看见你，不能听到你，也不能触摸到你。我第一次向你祷告时我还很小，你是我的帮助和避难所。我咿咿呀呀的向你祈求，尽管我还很小，但我却很虔诚地祈求你不要让我在学校挨打。有时，为了我自己的好处，你不应允我的祷告，然后我的兄长、甚至我的父母就会在我挨打时嘲笑我，他们当然希望我不会受到伤害——在那些日子里挨打是我最大的恐惧。

［……］

11

在我还很小的时候就被告知，上帝降卑来到我们这些骄傲的罪人中间，他给了我们永生的应许。作为一个望教者，我从出生起就经常被十字架的记号所祝福，并接受圣盐【1】的调理，主啊，我的母亲对你寄予了巨大的盼望。我童年时曾因突犯胃病几乎致死。是你，我的主啊，在那时就守护着我，你看见我怀着多么热切强大的信心，向我的母亲以及我们全体的母亲——你的教会，乞求为我施行你的儿子基督——我的主、我的上帝的洗礼。我的生身之母深深地担忧，因为在她心中纯洁的信仰里，从我一出生起，她为使我获得永久的拯救比以往付出了更大的努力。要不是我很快康复，她就会急于看看我是否获准接受获救的圣事，并因承认你主耶稣，而得洁净，因你饶恕了我的罪。于是，我的受洗推迟了，总而言之，只要我继续活着，我必定会让自己重新沾染罪恶，受洗之后，对沾染罪恶的负罪感就会更大、更危险。即便在那个年龄，我早已相信你，我的母亲和全家也都相信你，只有我父亲除外。但是，在我心中，他并没有超越我母亲的虔诚对我的影响，也没有因自己依然不信仰基督而阻止我信仰基督。主啊，我母亲竭尽全力，让你做我的父亲，而不是他。在这种情况下，你帮助她扭转了对丈夫的态度，她原本一直很顺从丈夫的，因为顺从丈夫就是顺从你的律法，她因此表现出比丈夫更好的美德。

我的主啊，我问你——如果是你的旨意，我希望知道——我当时受洗被推迟的原因是什么？是否是为了我的好处，放松了让我免于犯罪的羁绊?或者，事实上并没有放松羁绊？要不然，为什么我时至今日还经常听见别人这样说，“别管他，让他做吧，他不是还没有受洗吗”?但是当肉体的健康处于危险之中时，没有人会说：“让他恶化下去，他还没有痊愈呢”。如果我马上被治愈，如果我和我的家人竭尽所能，确保我的灵魂一旦被拯救，我就会在你的庇护中获得安全，因为拯救是源于你的，这样不是更好吗？但是我母亲很清楚，我在成长过程中需要经历诸多风浪，但是她宁愿让不成型的泥土去接受敲打，而不是让那被盖上洗礼印章的、已完全的形象去接受敲打。

17

让我告诉你，我的主，我是怎样在各种愚蠢的妄想上滥用你给予我的心智。我设立了一个很是困扰我的目标，如果我取得了成功，我会赢得赞誉。如果失败，我害怕会很丢脸甚至挨打。我必须背诵朱诺【2】的一段话，这是她因无法阻止埃涅阿斯前往意大利，在痛苦和愤怒之下说的。我早已获悉朱诺没有真的说过这些话，但是我们不得不假装事实如此，并跟随诗人的幻想，把原来诗歌里表达的内容改编为散文。哪个孩子采用了最适合意义的文字，最恰当地表达了悲伤和愤怒的感情，表现了他所模仿的人物的威严，他就赢得了比赛。

主啊，这一切对我真正的生命而言有什么意义呢？为什么我的朗诵会比班上很多其他男孩赢得更多的赞誉呢？这一切都只不过是过眼云烟吗?还有别的方法可以用来训练我的智慧和口才吗？主啊，我原本可以使用智慧和口才，用圣经上的语言来赞美你，那本是我心灵的支撑，可那时我却好像一株新生的葡萄枝，结出无意义的果实，仅供飞鸟啄食。向这些飞鸟、这些堕落天使献祭的方式可不止一种。

19

我小的时候就是站在这样一个世界的门槛上，面临着危险。我已经在准备应对各种挑战了，我接受一项训练，学会对语法错误深恶痛绝，而不是学会当自己犯了语法错误时，不要去嫉妒那些没犯错误的人。主啊，所有这一切，我都向你陈明，并向你忏悔。通过这些行为，我赢得了我所要找寻得好处的人的赞誉。因那时我以为，正确的生活方式就是如他们所愿地生活。我被蒙蔽了双眼，看不出邪恶的漩涡已经把我从你的眼前卷走。在你的眼中还有什么比那时的我更糟糕的呢？因为我甚至令那些我希望取悦的人头疼。我无数次地欺骗老师、家人和父母，因为我想玩游戏，或去看无益的表演，或是急于去模仿在舞台看到的场景。我甚至偷父母储藏室和餐桌上的东西，或是出于贪婪，或是为交换其他孩子所喜爱的玩具，他们也乐意与我交易。我与他们做游戏，为了当赢家，我经常搞欺骗，这仅仅是因为想赢的虚荣心浮上心头。当发现别人像我欺骗他们那样欺骗我时，我简直无法忍受，同他们激烈地争吵。同样，如果他们发现我搞欺骗并责备我时，我会勃然大怒，不愿退让。

这是儿童的天真无邪吗？主啊，不是这样的。但是我祈求你的原谅。长官和君主代替了家教和老师，胡桃和皮球以及小鸟让位于金钱、地产和仆人，但是这些相同的激情依然保留下来，只是由生命的一个阶段进入到了下一个阶段，就像更严厉的惩罚代替了学校的戒尺。仅仅因为他们小，所以你用小孩象征谦卑，我们的君王，你称赞说：“天国是属于他们的”。

20

主啊，即使你让我活不过童年，我也应该感谢你，因为你是我们的主，你是善的极致，宇宙的创造者和统治者。即便我只是作为一个小孩而存在，但我活着，我有感觉的能力，我有一种本能保护自身的安全和完好，保护我的存在，这是一个迹象，来自你这位独一的不可见者。我的内在感觉控制我身体的感觉，并保持它们完全的活力。而且即使在占据我思想的小事中，我也能因发现真理而快乐，我不喜欢被欺骗。我有良好的记忆力，我掌握了知识。我享受朋友的陪伴，并且远离痛苦、无知和悲伤。一个如此渺小的创造物得以拥有这么美好的品质，难道我还不应该感恩吗？但是它们都是上帝的礼物，不是给我自己的。他的礼物是好的，其总和就是我自己。因此，造我的上帝一定是善的，并且我身上所有的美善都是他的。我为着自己生命中的美善感谢他，赞美他，甚至为我童年中的美善也是如此。但是，我的罪在于，我不是从他那里而是在我自己和其他受造物中，追寻享乐、美丽和真理，我因此陷入了痛苦、混乱和谬误。我的上帝是我的快乐，我的荣耀和我的信靠，我感谢你的赐予并祈求你为我保留它们。请继续保守我，使你的赐予增长并达致完美，我应该和你在一起，我的存在都是你赐予的。

注释

【1】在天主教中，盐是有特别的意义，盐加进水里制成圣水，很多仪式都会用到这种圣水。

【2】罗马诸神之一，朱庇特的妻子。

第二卷

1

我现在必须回想我做过的极坏的事，那败坏了我灵魂的肉体之罪。主啊，我如此做不是我喜欢那些罪恶，而是为了爱你。因为爱你的爱，我将回顾那邪恶的过去。回忆是苦涩的，但是这将帮助我品尝你的甘甜，这甘甜不是欺骗性的，而是带来真正的喜乐，并且永不消逝。因为爱你的爱，我将从极大的堕落中重新找回自己，当我远离你时，这堕落将我撕碎，只有你是我本该追寻的，但我却因为许多不同的渴求而迷失了自己。当我进入成年以后，我因沉溺于地狱般的享乐而为欲望所驱使。我有勇无谋，迷失在纷繁复杂而又疯狂滋生的欲望中。在你看来，我的美丽褪去，我的灵魂腐烂发臭，然而我却满足于自身的状态，并力求取悦于人。

2

除了爱与被爱之外，我别无他求。但是我的爱超出了一个人对另一个人的感情，超出了友谊之光的纯度。肉体的欲望像泥沼，青春期的性欲在我身上膨胀，冒出迷雾，遮蔽并暗淡了我的心灵，以至于我不能从肉欲的阴暗中区别真爱的清晰光线。爱和肉欲在我里面混杂在一起。它们将我年轻的性情横扫至肉欲的悬崖边，企图将我淹没于罪恶的漩涡。你对我越来越愤怒，但我毫无意识。我死亡的铁链已经发出响声，振聋发聩，这是你对我心灵骄傲的惩罚。我离开你越来越远，你不约束我。我横冲直撞、不断摔跤，在淫乱的欲海中挣扎，你沉默不语。等到认识到你才是我真正的喜乐时，这是一个多么漫长的过程啊！你在那时沉默，而我却偏行己路，渐行渐远，以自己的痛苦为骄傲，在疲惫中无法安息，播下越来越多的种子，唯一收获的却只是悲伤。

［……］

3

在同一年中，我的学业被中断。我已经开始在附近的马都拉城【1】学习文法和雄辩术【2】，但是我被带回家，我的父亲，一个塔加斯特城普通公民，他的决定十分坚定，要省钱送我去更远的迦太基【3】。我不必将这一切向你陈明，我的上帝，然而当着你的面我要向我的同类讲述，告诉那些可能会拿起这本书来读的人，尽管人数很少。这是为了使我和读者都能够意识到我们在怎样的深渊中向你哭求。你的耳朵一定听见了那忧伤痛悔的心的哭求，这心持守着信仰而活着。

［……］

4

主啊，偷窃无疑会受到你的律法的惩罚，尽管他们都是罪人，但律法是写在人们的心中并且不可能被擦掉。没有哪个小偷可以忍受另一个小偷对他的偷窃，即便他很有钱，而且另一个人是出于渴求的冲动。我之所以想偷窃，并去偷了，虽不是被匮乏驱使，无非是因为缺乏正义感，或是不喜欢正确的事情，并对做错事有一种贪婪的爱。我偷窃之前就已经拥有很多了，而且比那偷的还好，我并不愿享受这些贪求而偷来的东西，而仅仅是享受犯罪和偷窃本身。我家葡萄园附近有一棵梨树，结满了果子，无论是看起来还是尝起来都很诱人。一个深夜，包括我在内的一群无赖去把果子都摇下来带走，我们在外继续游玩直到深夜，这是我们的恶习。我们带走了大量的梨，自己没有吃，而是扔给了猪。也许我们吃了一些，但是我们真正的快乐是做了被禁止的事情。

［……］

6

如果十六岁的那天晚上我犯下的偷窃罪行是一个活生生的事实，我会对它说并问，到底我爱这可耻之事里面的什么？我毫无美善，因这是强盗行径。而我们所偷的梨是美的，因为它们是你所创造的，良善的天父，你是所有存在中最美的，是所有事物的创造者，是最高的善和我自己真正的善。那梨不是我闷闷不乐的心灵所渴求的。我有很多比这更好的东西，我偷梨只是为了偷窃。我把梨刚摘下来就扔掉了，我吃的只是我的罪，我品尝并享受着这种罪。如果这些梨中的任何一个经过我的口，那都是罪的味道。

［……］

那时，在偷窃中让我感到愉快的是什么呢？难道是用堕落的和邪恶的方式来模仿我主的能力？因为我没有真正的能力打破他的律法，于是我享受表面上这样做，就像囚犯不惧怕惩罚的时候，在对权力持有虚弱的幻觉之下，通过做错事来为他制造一种虚幻的自由？这是一个奴隶，从主人那里逃跑，转而去追逐自己的影子！这多么令人厌恶啊！ 这是对生活多么拙劣的模仿！这是多么难以测度的死亡啊！除了那是错事以外，还能找到任何别的原因让我以做错事为乐吗？

注释

【1】即今阿尔及利亚的末达乌路赫（Mdaourouch）。

【2】古希腊时期出现了民主制度，公共言论成为了政治生活的一部分，因此演讲、辩论就很流行，于是出现了专门教授该技艺的老师，罗马也遗传了此风气。

【3】位于非洲北海岸，今突尼斯境内。

第三卷

1

我去了迦太基，发现自己置身于一口嘶嘶做响的欲望大锅之内。我还没有坠入爱河，但是我渴求爱，并且当我感到失去了什么时，我会憎恨自己没有去热烈地满足这种需求。我环顾四周寻找爱的目标，因为我极度渴望爱上某物。我不喜欢脚下没有陷阱的人生，尽管我真正的需要是你，我的上帝，我心灵的食粮，我还没有意识到这种饥饿。我没有对不朽的食粮的需要，不是因为我已经拥有了，而是因为我越是饥饿，食粮越是不好吃。为此，我的灵魂病了，我得了溃疡并且极力寻找一些物质的东西，也就是说，企图用世界的方法，来解决溃疡引起的瘙痒。但是物质是没有灵魂的，不能作为我爱的真正对象。渴求爱与被爱是我心中的欲望，如果能够享受爱我之人的肉体，对当时的我而言，那将是最美的事。

［……］

3

然而，你的仁慈总是在高处信实地护庇着我。我在堕落和渎神的好奇心中筋疲力尽。我离弃你，沉入怀疑主义的最底层，还模仿魔鬼式的崇拜。我的罪是给魔鬼的献祭，为了这一切你责罚我。我竟然冒犯你，在教堂举行你神秘的盛典之时，我竟充满肉欲的思想，并从中获得满足。因这一行为我理应被判处死刑，你用重重的鞭打惩罚我。但是与我的罪相比，这惩罚算不得什么。主啊！你的慈爱是多么的无限，你是我所经之极危险之境的避难所，就是当我在高处走，却执意后退、更加远离你的时候。我喜欢我自己的方式，而不是你的，但我所爱的这种自由是不负责任的自由。

除了这些追求以外，我也学习法律。这样的抱负是被尊崇的，我决定继续下去。我越是无耻，我就越有名，人们都瞎眼了，以至于以其瞎眼为荣。那时我在雄辩学校名列前矛。我很满意自己高高在上的状态并且傲慢自大。尽管如此，主啊，你很清楚，我的行为比“破坏分子”安静很多，“破坏分子”是对喜欢恶作剧的人的称呼，这是当时流行的称号。我不参与他们突发的暴力行径，但我和他们在一起生活，我还有一些羞耻感，毕竟我不像他们。我与他们为伍，也经常从这种友谊中找到乐子，但是当他们做那些符合他们的称号的事情时，我也总会感到可怕。胆小的新人即便不招惹他们，他们也会捉弄他，无端地冒犯其尊严并以此为乐，并将其尴尬作为恶意玩笑的素材。如果这不是魔鬼自己的行为，也离魔鬼不远了。“破坏分子”是一个适合于他们的名字，他们放荡不羁，并完全伤害了他们自己。他们喜欢嘲笑和作弄别人，对别人设下魔鬼的秘密圈套，而这实则也是在嘲笑和作弄他们自己。

4

这些就是我在那个易动感情的年龄学习雄辩术时的同伴。我的抱负是成为一个优秀的演说家，为了满足人类虚荣心这个渎神且愚蠢的目的。西塞罗【1】的一部作品因着其中所宣扬的精神，成为了我必修课的一本读物。几乎人人都崇拜他的作品。这本书的书名是《荷尔顿西乌斯》（Hortensius），它建议读者学习哲学，它改变了我对人生的看法，使我转而向你祷告，主啊，它还给了我新的希望和理想。我所有空虚的梦在瞬间失去了魅力，我的心开始为永恒真理所搏动，这真理有迷惑人的激情。我开始从自己的沉沦中爬出来，希望重新回到你的身边。我不是用书作为我的磨刀石来使我变得伶牙俐齿。我之所以被它吸引不是因为形式而是内容，虽然母亲付给我的学费本来是要花在我的口才训练上的。我那时已经十九岁了，她还供养我，因为我父亲两年前已经去世。

［……］

但是，我心灵的光明，你知道在那个时候，尽管对保罗【2】的话我还一无所知，唯一让我高兴的事情就是西塞罗在书中建议不要简单崇拜哲学流派中的这个人或那个人，而是要爱智慧本身，无论它是什么，都要去探寻它、追求它、拥有它，并牢牢地将它占据。这些话使我感到万分地激动并在我心中燃起了烈火。只是在这燃烧的热情中没有提到基督的名字。主啊，出于你的怜悯，从我母亲哺育我时，我婴儿的内心就已经恭敬地吮吸了他的名字，你儿子的名字，我的救主。在我内心深处，他的名字保留着，无论有多少学问，多么正确清晰的表达，除非他的名字在里面，否则没有什么能够完全俘获我。

5

于是我下决心研究《圣经》，看一下这到底是什么书。我发现某些东西不是骄傲之人能够理解的，也不是小孩子可以掌握的。他的步伐是谦卑的，但是他所达到的高度是壮丽的。他被神秘所包裹，我不是那种可以进入的人，也不是可以低头遵从他引导的人。但是当我第一次读《圣经》时，我有一种前所未有的感觉。对我来说，他们好像根本不值得与西塞罗庄严的散文相比，因为我有太多的自负以至于不能接受《圣经》的质朴，并且也没有足够的洞察力去穿透其深度。无疑，《圣经》的意义是随着孩子的成长而丰满起来的。但是我太骄傲了，以至于不能把自己叫做小孩。我被自尊所充满，这使得我认为自己是一个伟大的人。

11

但是你从高天中伸手帮助我，从黑暗的深渊中将我的灵魂拯救。因为我的母亲，你虔诚的仆人，为了我向你哭诉，为我灵性的死亡比其他失去儿子肉身的母亲流了更多的眼泪。根据你给她的信仰精神，她视我如死亡一般。你听到她的哭泣，并没有因为她流泪而鄙视她，这些眼泪落下来，浇灌着她在各地祈祷时脸所贴近的土地。你聆听她，不然我怎样解释你安慰她的梦,故而她同意与我一同居住并与我同桌吃饭呢？在这之前她是拒绝这样做的，因为她厌恶并回避我错误信仰导致的渎神行为。

她梦见她站在一把木尺上，一个闪着神圣光芒的青年向她走来，尽管她自己悲伤的难以承受，然而那青年却快乐地向她微笑。青年问她每天悲伤流泪的原因，之所以问她不是因为他不知道，而是因为他有一些事情要告诉她，而这些事是他在异象中看见的。当她告诉青年，她是为了她唯一的儿子所丧失的灵魂而流泪时，青年告诉母亲要留意观察，如果她仔细观察的话，她将看见她在哪里，我也在哪里。于是她照着青年的话去做，果然她看见我正站在她的旁边，在同一把尺子上。

这个梦会从哪里来，除非你听了她内心的祷告？你的善是有大能的。你看顾我们每一个人，好像在你的关心中没有其他人，你看顾每一个人时也在看顾所有人。无疑，正是因为相同的原因，当她告诉我那个梦，我试图把它解释为她不用为我某一天成为那个样子而绝望时，母亲毫不犹豫地回答说：“不！他没有说‘他在哪里，你就在哪里’，而是说‘你在哪里，他就在哪里’”。

［……］

12

我记得当时你给了她另一个关于她祷告的回答，有一些无关的事情我忘记了，而且我要省略很多，因为我急于略去其它的事情，我急于向你忏悔。

你通过你的一个教士给了她回答，那个主教一生都住在教堂，并且熟悉《圣经》经文。我的母亲请他来与我谈一谈，或许他可以驳斥我的错误，把罪从我心中驱除，并用善来取代。当他发现合适的学生时他经常这样做，但是他拒绝为我这样做——这是一个明智的决定，我后来意识到这一点。他告诉我母亲我还没有达到接受这种教导的程度，因为就像母亲告诉主教的一样，我正因新近接受的异端思想而骄傲，并且用几个难题难倒了好些学问不高的人。主教说“让他一个人待着吧，你只要向上帝祷告就可以了， 他在阅读中会发现自己的错误和不虔诚的。”

同时，他告诉母亲，当他还是孩子的时候，他那迷失方向的母亲把儿子交给了摩尼教。他不仅读遍了摩尼教的书籍，还把它们抄写下来，没有任何人与他争论或是规劝他，他便自我觉醒，意识到必须离开这个教派，后来就真的离开了。听了这些之后，母亲依然不能平静，还是泪如泉涌地苦苦哀求他与我谈一谈。最后主教都有点不耐烦了，说道：“请走吧，就这样了，你流泪这么多，你是不会失去你的儿子的。”

几年后，当我与母亲谈话时，她常说当时她是将这些话当作来自天国的信息来接受的。

注释

【1】西塞罗，公元前106年-前43年。古罗马著名政治家、演说家、雄辩家、法学家和哲学家。

【2】保罗(3年—67年)，原名扫罗。保罗是亚伯拉罕的后裔，属于便雅悯支派的以色列人，早年参与迫害基督徒，据《圣经》记载，耶稣曾向他亲自显现。保罗是第一个去非犹太人中传播福音的基督徒，对于早期基督教会发展作出巨大贡献，可称为基督教的第一个神学家，《圣经》新约中很多书卷均是出自保罗之手。

第四卷

1

在接下来的9年中，从我19岁到28岁，我迷失了自己，反过来也误导了别人。我们是一样的骗子，并且我们利用各自不同的目标和野心进行欺骗，当我们详细解释那些所谓的人文思想时，这都是公开的，而在我们为所谓的宗教服务时却是秘密的。我们在公开场合很自信，私下里却很迷信，在任何地方都是空虚和无意义的。一方面我们追求无意义的流行盛名和观众的喝彩、诗歌的荣誉以及比赛中转瞬即逝的花环。我们喜爱舞台上悠闲的消遣和不被约束的自我放纵。另一方面我们渴望通过向神圣选民的献祭，以净化这些低级的享乐，像他们说的那样，在他们肠胃的作坊中将这些东西加工成天使和神灵，使我们得到拯救。这就是我追求的目标，我和朋友都在同样的幻像之下完成自己的事情，这些朋友不仅像我一样，而且也与我犯同样的错误。

［……］

2

那时，我是一名讲授雄辩术的教师。对钱财的欲望征服了我，我又通过出售教人在论辩中取胜的技巧征服其他人。但是，主啊，你知道，我宁愿拥有最诚实的学生，即使当今诚实没有任何意义，我教会他们狡诈时并没有恶意，我从来不希望他们利用狡诈去伤害无辜的人；相反，如果时机合适，我希望他们去拯救有罪的人。我的上帝啊，你从远处看见我以这种背信弃义的理由失去了自己的立足之地，但是透过云雾，你依然看见我内心闪耀着美好信仰的火花。因为，虽然我在教导我的学生时，仅仅鼓动他们做徒劳的设计和欺骗的伎俩，但是我竭尽全力踏踏实实地教他们。

在这些日子里，我与一个女人同居，她不是我合法的妻子，而是一个情妇，我之所以选择她是因为我不安的欲望可以在她身上得到慰藉。但是她是我的唯一，而且我很忠实于她。与她同居的经验使我发现，婚姻盟约的约束与性伴侣间讨价还价的制约不同，前者是为生儿育女而进入的，而在后者中，孩子的出生是双方最不情愿的，尽管当真的有了孩子时，他们不得不爱他们。

12

如果这个世界的事物令你愉悦，为着它们赞美上帝吧，但要从它们那里转移你的爱，而把爱献给创造者，好让沉浸于这些美好的事情中的你不会令他不快。如果你的快乐在于灵魂，在上帝里爱它们吧，因为灵魂太脆弱了，唯有当灵魂紧紧抓住上帝，才能坚定不移。他们如果不这样做，就只能走自己的路而最终迷路。爱他们吧，并且在上帝里努力引导他们归向上帝吧。告诉他们“我们应该爱上帝，他创造了世界，并且上帝并不遥远。”他创造这个世界之后，并没有抛下这个世界不管。这个世界就是他创造的，而世界也是因他而存在的。哪里有真理，上帝就在那里。他在我们内心的最深处，但是我们的心却远离他。仔细想想吧，叛逆的心灵，抓住这个创造你们的主。与他站在一起你就不会跌倒，在他里面安息，你就会感到平安。在你面前有什么样的障碍和陷阱？你的脚步把你引向何方？你所喜爱的美好事物都是来自上帝，但是这些东西只有在你按照上帝的意愿来使用的时候才是美好的。如果抛开上帝而错误地去爱它们，它们就会理所当然地转变为苦涩。你为什么选择游荡在这艰苦而辛劳的路上呢？在其上你找不到可安息的地方。在死亡的土地上你试图找到一份幸福的生活：可是幸福的生活不在那儿。没有生命的地方怎么让生活幸福呢？

我们的生命（Life）他自己来到这个世界，带走了我们的死亡。他用他丰盛的生命扭转了死亡，他发出雷鸣般的声音让我们从这个世界回到他的天国。他从天上来到我们中间，先是进入童贞女马利亚的子宫，在那里，我们凡人的肉体与他结合，就永远也不会死亡。然后他如新郎走出洞房一般，又如勇士欣然奔向前程。他不是在路上徘徊而是奔跑，呼唤我们回到他身边，用他的言语和行为呼唤我们，通过他的生命和死亡，通过他降到地狱又升入天堂，来呼唤我们。他离开我们的视线，好让我们转向内心并在那里找到他。他离开我们，但是他又与我们在一起。他也许没有一起与我们相伴，但他却从未离开我们。他回到他从来没有离开过的地方，因为通过他这个世界得以被造，他存在于这个世界，他来到这世界是为了拯救罪人。我的灵魂向他忏悔，他是医治者，因为过犯是针对他的。人类的子孙啊，你们心灵还要愚顽多久？你的生命来自天国：你们还不愿意随他上升而活吗？然而，如果你们还站在高位并且争闹声上达天庭，你们如何上升呢？从这些高处下来，这个时候你才会攀到上帝那儿。如果你们上升却又对抗上帝，就会跌落下来。

［……］

13

那时我不明白这个道理。我爱上了低级的美丽，这种美丽使我沉沦。我经常问我的朋友：“我们会爱上任何不美丽的东西吗？到底什么是美，美是由什么组成的？到底是什么在吸引我们，并超过我们所爱的事物？除非在它们里面有美丽和优雅，否则它们没有能力赢得我们的心。”当我看一个东西时，我发现，事物本身整体的美和与其它事物搭配所形成的和谐之美有所不同，就好比身体的一部分相对于整个身体，或者是鞋子相对于穿鞋的脚。这一观念从我心中迸发，就像水从泉中涌出一样。我的大脑被这种观念充满，我写了一本书，名叫《美与适宜》，我记得大约有两三卷。主啊，你知道有多少卷，但是我已经忘记了，因为这书很快就弄丢了，我再也没有找到。

14

主啊，我的上帝，是什么原因促使我把书献给罗马伟大的雄辩家希埃利乌斯【1】呢？我从来没有见过他，但我敬佩他学识上的赫赫名气，并且深深地被他的演讲所打动。甚至除此以外，别人对他的崇拜都能给我留下深刻的印象。人们对他赞不绝口，因为他实在非同寻常。他生在叙利亚，最初用训练希腊语演讲，后来成为著名的拉丁语演说家，在哲学上也很有造诣。

如果我们听见人们赞美一个素未谋面的人，我们会敬佩他，但这并不意味着仅仅听到对他们的赞美就使得我们敬佩他们。然而，一个人的热情会点燃另一个人同样的热情之火。我们听到别人称赞一个人时，只有相信那些赞语是真心话，我们才会仰慕他，换句话说，就是真心称赞的人会仰慕他自己称赞的那个人。

［……］

但是希埃利乌斯是我仰慕其才华的那种人，我很希望拥有那样的才华。我的骄傲使我到处漂游，随风飘荡。你像一个舵手一样引导我，但是你驾驶的航线超出了我的理解。我现在知道，并且可以坦然承认，我仰慕希埃利乌斯，与其说是因为别人称赞他，不如说是因为他那些受到称赞的成就。我了解到这一点，是因为那同样的一群人不但不会称赞他，反而毁谤他。他们可能同样会说出他的一些才能，但又会吹毛求疵，鄙视那些才能。如果他们这样做，我的感情就不会被激发，我的仰慕之情也不会被点燃。然而，他的品质没有变化，他本人也没有什么不同。唯一不同的是他们对待他的态度。

我们可以从中看出灵魂是软弱无力的，除非它抓住了坚固的真理之石。人们表达自己的意见，但那只是他们自己的意见，像一阵阵风把灵魂吹向这里、吹到那里，晕头转向。光被遮蔽住了，使真理不被看见，尽管真理就在我们眼前。在我看来，带上我的书以及我完成的工作，可以引起这位大人物的注意，这对我而言是非常重要的。如果他欣赏我的作品，我的热情会更加高涨。如果他发现了缺点，我那空虚又缺失上帝坚定真理的心，一定会遭受到严重的打击。然而，我在思考“美与适宜”的问题时深得其乐，我把这本书献给了他。尽管再没有别的人欣赏这本书，但我却引以为豪。

15

［……］

我挣扎着去接近你，但是你把我推了回来，让我品尝死亡的滋味。因为你拒斥骄傲的人。我居然在奇怪的疯狂中宣称，我就是来自你的本性，还有什么比这更狂妄的呢？我很善变，我自己知道。如果我想成为一个有学识的人，这只是意味着我想要精益求精。同样的，我宁愿认为你也是善变的，也不愿相信我与你不同。这就是你拒绝我并粉碎了我膨胀的骄傲的原因，那时，我的想象力继续停留在物质形式之上。尽管我谴责肉欲，我自己却是一个充满肉欲和血气的人。我像呼出的气息一样善变，无法再回到你身边。我四处漂泊，努力走向在你那儿并不存在的事物，或是在我自己或在我体内不存在的事物。这些事物不是通过你的真理而为我创造的，它们只是我愚蠢的想像力作用于具体物质的结果。尽管我不知道，我从上帝之城属于我的地盘中被驱逐出来，在上帝忠诚的孩子——我的同胞中流放。但是我只会空谈，并愚蠢地问他们，“如果像你们说的，上帝创造了灵魂，为什么灵魂会犯错？”主啊，于是过去我宁愿认为你不变的本质是被迫犯错，而不愿承认我自己是善变的，并且由于自由意志而犯错，那错误就是对我的惩罚。

［……］

16

我20岁的时候，搞到一本亚里士多德的《论十个范畴》。我迦太基的老师和被誉为著名学者的人提到这本书时，他们的脸上就出现妄自尊大的表情，所以书名本身就足以让我目瞪口呆，就像我因一些奇妙的神秘而惊呆。那时我试图独自去阅读和理解这本书，虽然如今我问自己那样做我得到了什么益处。其他人告诉我，他们经历了重重困难才理解这本书，而且此前最博学的大师不仅给他们做了字面解释，还用大量图表来阐释。但是当我与他们讨论时，他们能够告诉我的不过是我通过自己的阅读已经发现了的东西。

［……］

我独立阅读和理解所有我能够找到的所谓自由学科的书籍，因为那时我一无是处，而且是一个有着肮脏野心的奴隶。我从中得到了什么呢？我阅读那些书时感到很愉悦，但却不知道书中确定无疑的事实的真正来源。我背对着光，我的脸朝向被它照亮的事物，于是我用来看光下的事物的眼睛却是黑暗的。不需要太多的努力和老师的指导，我就能理解所阅读的所有东西：辩论术、逻辑、地理、音乐以及数学。哦主啊，我的上帝，你是知道的，因为一个人理解迅速并且感知敏锐，是因为你给予他这些天赋。但是因为我没有把天赋奉献给你，我努力地将其大部分变成自己的能力，而不是为了你积蓄力量，我离开了你往远方去，挥霍你爱的赐予，并把它们换成了金钱。这么做坏处比益处大得多。如果不好好利用，能力对我有何益处呢？我拥有的能力，只有在我竭力教授给别人之后，我才意识到这些学科是很难掌握的，甚至对于勤奋、聪慧的学生也是一样，一个可以一贯地遵循我的教导的学生就可以被看做是一名非常好的学者。

然而，如果我只是认为你，主上帝，真理本身，是一个光明的、无限的身体，我只是其中掉出的一小块，那么我从阅读中能获得什么价值呢？这完全是歪曲真理！然而这曾经就是我的信仰；现在我可以毫不脸红地承认，主啊，你对我的怜悯，我不会命令你来帮助我，就像那些日子我大言不惭地去亵渎你，像一只狗一样对你狂吠。我聪慧的价值是什么？它可以带着这些学科大步向前，而且，所有的书，它们所缠绕的问题，我可以不用任何人类导师的帮助就可以解开，在你爱的教义中，我迷失在最丑陋的错误和邪恶的渎神行为中。你虔诚的孩子理解这些比我缓慢，可这是他们大的缺点吗？他们并没有抛弃你，而是在你教堂的安全巢穴中长大，用对你的信心作为食物来哺育他们仁慈的翅膀，这信心将拯救他们。

上帝，我们的主啊，让你翅膀的庇护给我们希望。保护我们并支持我们。你将支持我们，从儿时直到我们的头发变白都支持我们。当你是我们的力量时，我们强壮，但是当力量是我们自己的时候，我们便软弱，在你里面我们的善永远得到护佑，当我们偏离至善时，我们就转向了邪恶。主啊，让我们最终能回到你的家中，不要让我们迷路。我们的善在你那里得到护佑，不会出现问题，因为那就是你自己。我们也不担心没有我们可以返回的家园。我们曾经从中失落，但是我们的家园是你的永恒，它永远不会失落，因为我们已经离开罪恶。

注释

【1】与奥古斯丁同时代的著名演说家。

第五卷

1

主啊，请接受我的忏悔。他们是通过我的唇舌献上的祭物，因为是你亲手造了它，是你的灵使它感动承认你的名。请医治我的百骨，并让它们说，主啊，谁能像你呢？

如果一个人向你忏悔，他不吐露他内心最深处的想法，似乎以为你不知道那些想法。心灵也许会封闭，却不能遮蔽你的视线。人的心可能是坚硬的，却不能阻挡你双手的触摸。无论何时，只要你愿意，你的仁慈或惩罚都能使人的心变得柔软，就像没有人能躲避阳光一样，没有人能够躲避你燃烧的热量。

让我的灵魂赞美你，彰显你的爱。让它公开承认你的慈爱，让它赞美你的仁慈。你所创造的都不停息地齐声赞美你。人们向你祈祷，他们的灵魂赞美你。动物、无生命的事物也一样，也都因着我们对它们的思考而通过我们的嘴唇来赞美你。因为我们的心灵从你创造的事物中获得供给，让我们可以克服弱点并提升到你的高度，同时利用它们来帮助我们回归你的身边，是你使这些事物变得妙不可言。我们因你而得到重塑并找到真正的力量。

3

在我的上帝面前，我将描述我29岁的时光。

有一个叫做福斯图斯的摩尼教【1】主教，最近到了迦太基。他简直就是一个从魔鬼那里而来的诈骗者，很多人都被他演讲时迷人的姿态所吸引。这自然是我所仰慕的，但是我开始学会去区别这仅仅是雄辩还是我渴望学习的真理。摩尼教徒对这个叫福斯图斯的人谈论了很多，而我只想看看他要向我呈现什么学问，我并不关心他使用什么言辞来修辞。我已经听说他在所有高级学问中很擅长使用言辞，特别是在自由科学领域。

我曾读过许多科普书籍，现在对这些书依然记忆犹新。当我把这些知识与摩尼教单调的故事进行比较时，对我来说，二者之中的科学理论似乎更接近真理。因为他们的思想可延展至足够远来对他们周边的世界做出判断，虽然他们对世界之主一无所知。而你，主啊，你高高在上，以赞许的眼光观看卑微的众生，却从远处藐视骄傲的人。你只与那些心里谦卑的人亲近。而那些骄傲的人，虽然他们通过学习而能计算星星和海沙的数目，能测量星座的位置和行星运行的轨迹，他们却找不到你。

［……］

6

大约有9年左右的时间，我的心摇摆不定。我是摩尼教的追随者，我极热切地期待着福斯图斯的到来。这个教派的教徒不能回答我提出的问题，但他们安慰我说，一旦福斯图斯到来，我就可以与他讨论，他会毫不费力地对这些问题和我可能提出的更难的问题，给予一个明确的解答。

［……］

我对福斯图斯长久热切的期盼有了丰厚的回报，他确定了辩论题目和表现出好意。他很容易就能找到合适的词来展现他的思想，这让我惊喜。我不是唯一为此鼓掌的人，当然我鼓掌的次数可能比谁都多。但是我发现这很累人，当很多人聚在一起听他演讲时，我不能够接近他去请教我的问题，而且也不能在他的面前做友好的问答式交流。一旦有机会，我和朋友们就会吸引他的注意，尽管那是不适宜私人交谈的时候。我提出了我的一些疑问，但是很快发现除了文学的一些基础知识外，他没有什么学识。他仅读过一点西塞罗的演讲，一两本塞内加【2】的书，一些诗歌，以及他的教友用很美的拉丁文写成的书。除了日常的演讲训练外，这些读物是他雄辩的基础，也是他增加魅力，完善他那吸引人的人格和充分运用精神力量的基础。

［……］

7

当我发现福斯图斯对那些我期盼他在其中是专家的领域一无所知时，我马上便不再期待他能解决那些困扰我的问题。当然，尽管他在这些事情上是无知的，他依然是一个十分虔诚的人，只可惜他是一个摩尼教徒。摩尼教的书充满了对天空、星辰、太阳和月亮故事长篇累牍的编造。我十分希望福斯图斯能把这些与我在其他书中学到的算数对比一下，即使我可以判断摩尼教的理论是否更可能是真理，或者至少同样可能是真理，但是我开始意识到他不能给我一个详细的解释。当我建议应该考虑这些问题并可以一起讨论时，他一定是非常谦虚而不去承担这个任务。他知道他无法回答我的问题，并且不羞于承认这一点，不像其他我不得不容忍的健谈者，当他无话可说时，他不会试图给我一个教训。他有一颗心，尽管他寻找你的方式是错误的，但他并非不慎重。他没有完全意识到他的局限性，并且不想仓促地加入一场辩论，因为这种辩论可能迫使他处于他无法维持也可能无法轻易退出的局面。我反而因此更喜欢他了，因为对于心智而言，谦逊和坦诚是很好的装备，胜过我希望拥有的科学知识。我发现他对所有困难和深奥的问题的态度都是一样的。

［……］

于是，不经意间，这个吸引了许多人的福斯图斯如今开始将我从困境中解救出来。主啊，冥冥之中你指引的手没有丢弃我。我母亲日夜向你流泪，并为了我，将她的心血献上为祭，但是你引领我走在最奇妙的路上。主啊，是你引导了我，因为若一个人前进的步伐受到主的指引，他无疑会坚定不移。除了你的手之外，还有什么可以拯救我们，还有什么可以重新塑造你所创造的呢？

8

那时，在你的指引下，我被说服去罗马，在那儿教授我在迦太基所教的科目。

［……］

9

在罗马，我被疾病所击倒，我几乎坠入地狱，背负着我对你犯下的罪，对自己犯下的罪，对其他人犯下的罪，一系列严重的罪行超过了原罪的总和，在罪里面我们和亚当都死了。那时你还没有在基督里宽恕我犯下的罪中的任何一条，在他的十架上，你也还没有化解我因罪给你带来的敌意。如果你仅仅是我认为的一个幻象的话，那么你如何在十字架上化解这种敌意？到那时为止，我认为基督身体的死亡不是真的，而我自己灵魂的死亡却是真实的。因着对他死亡的怀疑，我的灵魂和生命是虚假的，而他身体的死亡却是真实的。

［……］

如果我死在那个国家，我母亲的心所受到的打击将永远也不会康复。言语无法表达她是多么爱我，她为我灵性的重生所承受的焦虑远远大于她生产我时的痛苦。如果我在那种情况下死去，我无法想象她会怎样恢复过来，因我的死会刺透她那爱我的心。那么她经常做的恒久、迫切祷告的对象是谁呢？是你，除你以外没有别人。但是，你这位满有怜悯的主啊，你会鄙视这守贞寡妇从内心深处发出的悔恨、卑微的声音吗？她总是乐于施舍，积极为你的圣徒们效劳，每天都要到你的祭坛献祭，从不间断。她每天早晚去教堂两次，毫无例外。她并不是去听那些空洞的故事和老妇人的闲言碎语，而是去听你话语的教导，即使你也能听到她的祷告。在你的恩典中，她成就了她自身，你能拒绝帮助她吗？或者，当她不要求金银或任何转瞬即逝的好处，而是请求你拯救她儿子的灵魂，你会鄙视她的眼泪吗？主啊，你决不会这么做的。不，你在那儿听她的祷告，并按照你的时间做你决定做的事情。你一定不会在梦境和答复中欺骗她。在她虔敬的心中牢牢地记住这些我在上文中曾经提到的和没有提到的梦境和答复，好像得到你亲手书写的手谕一样，在祈祷时念念不忘，反复地对你提及。因为你的慈爱永远长存，在你的应许中，你屈尊为这些免除了所有债务的人做一个负债者。

10

所以，是你医好了我的疾病。你使你仆人的儿子的身体恢复健康，让他可以活着从你那里去接受另一个更好、更确定的健康。

［……］

12

我开始积极地教授文法和雄辩术，这是我来罗马的目的。起初我在家里教，我招收了一些之前就听说过我的学生，通过他们我开始小有名气。但是我开始意识到在罗马有困难，这困难在非洲是不会有的。千真万确的是，我发现这里没有小流氓的闹事，但却听说，有一群学生会不断地搞集体阴谋以逃避支付他们导师的费用，或是投身到另外一个老师门下。他们是相当无耻的，与喜爱金钱相比，正义对于他们一文不值。我内心憎恨他们，而且不是没有私心的憎恨，我认为，我憎恨他们，更多是因为我对他们难以忍受，而不仅是他们对教师所犯的错误。……我依然憎恶这些偏执和思想扭曲的学生，但是我也爱他们，希望教导他们以改变他们，让他们学会爱学习胜过爱金钱，并学会去爱你，他们的上帝，因为你是真理、永不止息的善的源头和最圣洁的和平者。但是在这些日子里，我是因为害怕他们可能会给我带来伤害而讨厌他们，而不是因为你的缘故希望他们归回正路。

13

于是，当罗马的执政官收到一封来自米兰的信，要求为米兰找一位文法和雄辩老师，而且答应旅行的费用会由公共资金来负担的时候，我申请了这个职位，并且还由那些在摩尼教的愚昧中陷入已深的教友推荐我。尽管当时没有人知道，但这个旅行意味着我与他们的联系结束。最后执行官西马库斯安排了一场考试，他们认可了我的能力，并将我送去了米兰。

在米兰，我找到了你热心的仆人安波罗修主教，他因出众的品行而闻名于世。那时，他那极有天赋的唇舌不厌其烦地宣传你粮食的充裕、你圣油的喜乐和你让人清醒又沉醉的酒。我不知道，是你把我引向他，我以为是他引导我到了你那里。这位圣人作为主教，像父亲一样接待我，告诉我他是多么高兴我来了。我的心被他温暖，仅仅是这个人对我表示了友善，并非因为他是真理的教师，我已经对能在教会中找到这样的人感到绝望了。他向人们布道时，尽管带着不恰当的目的，我都仔细聆听。我当时的目的是凭自己去判断那些对他演讲能力的报告是否正确，或是他的口才是否与我所听说的那样的好。于是，当我全神贯注地听他所使用的词时，我对主题就十分不感兴趣，甚至鄙视它。我对他迷人的演讲无比喜爱，虽然他是一位比福斯图斯更有学识的演讲者，但却没有那样流畅和风度翩翩。我仅仅说的是他的风格，但就内容来说，他却是举世无双的。福斯图斯在摩尼教的谬误中迷失了，而安波罗修则最确定无疑地教授关于拯救的教义。但你的仁慈不为罪人所知晓，正如当时的我，虽然正无意间一步一步地走向你。

14

虽然我不难明白安波罗修所讲的内容，但我仅仅关注他表达的方式，那是我当时的唯一兴趣，因为我已经不再相信人类能够找到通向你的道路。与我所欣赏的演讲方式不可分割的是演讲的主题，我视其无足轻重，可也无法将这二者分开。我全神贯注地学习他的演讲方式，并且开始意识到他所说的真理和事实。尽管这是一个渐近的过程。最初打动我的是，他所讲的东西还是有道理的。于是我开始相信基督宗教，我曾经认为基督宗教不可能驳斥摩尼教，可特别当我听完一段《旧约》的解释后，就改变了之前的看法。当我从字面上来理解时，这些字句是死的，但一旦我听到它们的灵性意义，我就开始为我的绝望而责备自己，起码在那之前，这种绝望曾使我以为无法面对那些憎恨、嘲弄上帝律法和先知的人。但是我没有感觉到我只需走基督宗教的道路，因为它已经有了有学识的人，准备为它担保并不会在回答反对意见时失声。另一方面，我认为我自己的信念不应该受到谴责，因为两边的观点势均力敌。我认为基督宗教方面没有被打败，但也没有获胜。

下一步，我竭尽全力找到一些证明摩尼教谬误的证据。如果我能够构想出一种精神实体，那么他们的观点就会在瞬间被推翻，被我的思想拒绝。但是我做不到这个。不过，我对物质世界和整个自然思考得越多，尽可能通过我们的身体来感知，我愈加细查各种的理论，越多地开始认为大多数哲学家的观点可能是正确的。于是，把任何的事情都当做疑问来对待，像学园派通常的做法那样，在教义与教义之间不做判断，我至少已经下决心要离开摩尼教，我在游移不定中徘徊，我认为继续留在摩尼教是不正确的，因为我发现一些哲学家的见解更有道理。然而，我完全拒绝相信这些哲学家可以医治我生病的灵魂，因为他们忽略了拯救人的基督之名。我决定在基督大公教会保留慕道友的身份，这是我父母所希望的，至少保留到我可以清晰地看见一束光引导我的脚步之前。

注释

【1】又称明教，是一个源自古代波斯宗教，为公元纪中叶波斯人摩尼（Mani）所创立。

【2】塞内加（公元4年—65年）是古罗马最重要的悲剧作家，他受斯多葛哲学影响，精于修辞和哲学，并曾担任过著名暴君尼禄的老师。他主张人们用内心的宁静来克服生活中的痛苦，宣传同情、仁爱。

第六卷

1

主啊，我年轻时的希望，你这段时间在哪里？你为了躲避我而藏在哪里？难道不是你创造了我，使我与行走在大地上的野兽不同，也比天上的飞鸟更聪慧吗？然而，我在黑暗中走在危险的路上。我在自身之外的地方寻找你，在我自己的心中也没有找到你。我深入到海底。我丧失了所有信仰，并且对能够找到真理而感到绝望。

但是我母亲现在来到我这里，她的虔诚给了她力量为追寻我而穿越陆地和海洋，用对你的坚定信仰来面对所有的危险。当船在危险中时，是她安慰了全体船员的心，正是这些人在不习惯大海的乘客感到震惊时，转而安慰他们。她许诺他们将平安到达，因为你在异象中给了她应许。并且她发现我也处于严重的危险中，因为我对能寻找到真理感到绝望。我告诉她，我不是一个基督宗教徒，但是至少我不再是摩尼教徒了。可她没有高兴得跳起来，即便这个消息是出乎意料的。实际上，在这个程度上，她对我的担忧已经减轻了。在她向你的祷告中，她为我哭泣，好像我已经死了一样，但是她也知道你将唤醒我的生命。在她的心中，我被放在停尸架上放到你的面前，等着你对这个寡妇的儿子说：“年轻人，我吩咐你起来”。然后，他便起来开始说话，接着你把他重新还给他母亲。于是当她听到她日复一日的祷告和眼泪，在最后，在很大程度上得到了回报时，她没有感觉到涌动的喜乐，她的心跳也没有加快。因我已经从错误中被解救出来，虽然我还没有抓住真理。可事实却相反，她确信，如果你已经应许她一切，你也会将剩余的应许给她。她心中充满了对你的信心，她很平静地告诉我，在基督里，她相信，在她离世之前一定会看到我成为虔诚的基督宗教徒。这是她告诉我的。但是对你，那所有怜悯之源泉，她流尽眼泪，更加热诚地祷告，只求你加快你的帮助并在黑暗中给我光明。她比以前更热切地去教堂，并全神贯注地听安波罗修讲道。对于她来说，安波罗修的话像她心里的活水，不断地涌流到永生。她将他当作上帝的天使般爱戴。因为她已经知道，通过他，我从原来的状态被引到目前这种不确定的摇摆状态。母亲确信我会走过这一状态，这种状态会把我从疾病引向健康，但是在我的前面还有更大的危险，这危险很像医生所说的危机。

5

从那时起，我开始相信基督宗教的教导。教会要求我们应该相信某些事物，尽管它们不能够得到证明，如果它们可以被证明，没有人能够理解，而且一些事物是根本无法被证明的。我想教会在这一事件上是完全诚实的，没有摩尼教那样自负。摩尼教嘲笑那些通过信仰来认识事物的方式，轻率地对科学知识做出许诺，然后提出一个发明出来的荒谬体系，他们期望信徒们通过信心而相信，因为它们无法得到证明。主啊，于是，你把你最温柔、最仁慈的手放在我的心上，并使我的思想有条理，于是我开始意识到我相信无数看不见或不在场便看不到的事情——历史中的很多事情，许多关于地点和小镇的事情我从未看见过，并相信许多朋友、医生或是他人的话。除非我相信这些事情，否则我们就要在人生中伴随绝对的虚无。最重要的是，这个信仰终于让我知道我的父母是谁，这信仰是如此确定和不可动摇， 因为除非我相信被告知的内容，否则我绝不可能知道。通过这种方式，你使我认识到我不应该挑这些相信《圣经》的人的错误，你已经在地上的各民中建立了这样的伟大权威，但这些人却不相信你。而且我应该不在意这样一些人，他们问我为什么可以确信《圣经》是由一位、从不说谎的真实的上帝通过圣灵赐下给人们的。准确地说，我最需要相信这一点，因为在我读过的所有自相矛盾的哲学书中，误导人的假设无论引起怎样的争议，却没有一刻夺去我对你存在的信仰以及你管理人类事务的权利。尽管那时我对你了解甚少。

我认为你是存在的，我们的福祉掌握在你的手中。这一信念有时强，有时弱，但是，即便我既不知道我应该如何思考你的存在，也不知道哪条道路将我引向你或引导我回到你身边，我却一直坚持这一信念。于是，由于我们太软弱了，无法光靠理性来发现真理，基于这一原因，我们需要你圣书的权威。我开始相信，你绝不会在任何地方都赋予《圣经》这样显著的权威性，除非你已经打算让我们，通过它使我们寻找你并相信你。早先让我觉得荒谬的章节，我现在听到了关于它们的很多合理的解释，我视它们为神秘深刻的奥秘。并且对我来说，更正确的做法应该是，《圣经》权威应该通过纯正的信仰被尊重和接受，因为所有人都可以轻松地阅读它，它也拥有深刻的含义，它的巨大秘密被深藏着。 它平实的语言和简约的风格使得任何人都容易理解，而且也能吸引有学问的人的关注。通过这种方式，《圣经》在它的大网下收罗了所有的人，一些人安全地通过了狭窄的网眼来到你那里。他们的人数不多，如果不是《圣经》高高在上的权威，又以神圣的谦卑将人们聚集在一起，人数还会更少。

［……］

13

我一直不断地被敦促结婚，而且他们已经为我选择了另一半，女方已经接受了。我母亲竭尽所能帮助我，这是她的希望，一旦我结婚了，我就会接受洗礼的救赎之水来洗净我的罪。她每天都很高兴，我变得更适合接受洗礼了，我对信仰的接受，使她看到她的祷告有了结果、你的应许得以实现。在我的要求和她自己的期望下，她每天用心灵祈求你在梦中能给她一些关于我未来婚姻的启示，但是你没有这样做。她有一些模糊和奇特的梦想，这是她被这些思想占据的结果，当她告诉我这些时，她把这些当做无关紧要的事情，并没有确定地说你给她梦的时候经常有这些情况。她经常说，有一些让她不能用言论形容的感觉使她能够区分你的启示和她自己的自然的梦。尽管如此，我婚礼的计划依然在进行，也征得了女孩的父母同意。她太年轻，离法定婚龄还有两年，但是我太喜欢她了，我愿意等待。

15

与此同时，我的罪恶越来越厉害了。与我同居的女人被看为婚姻的障碍被迫与我分开了，这一打击让我心如刀割，因为我仍深爱着她。她返回了非洲并发誓不再委身于任何其他男人，她留下了为我生的那个孩子。但是我太悲伤、太虚弱，我无法想象作为一个女人有此遭遇的情景。那个已经答应与我结婚的女子需要等待两年，我有点不耐烦，因为我是情欲的奴隶，而不是对婚姻的真爱。我又找了一个情妇，没有结婚。这意味着我灵魂的疾病依然没有减弱，实际上是加重了，而且在无法解释的习惯的注视和监护下，会在婚姻的状态中延续下去。另外，当我第一个女人离开时，我受到的创伤没有愈合的迹象。最初，痛苦是尖刻而撕心裂肺的，然后伤口开始溃烂，而且痛苦变得更加迟钝，没有愈合的希望。

16

称赞和尊敬都是给你的，哦，怜悯之泉！当我的痛苦越来越深时，你越来越接近我。尽管我不知道，你的手已经准备好了把我从泥潭中拉出来，并把我洗干净。除了对死亡和即将到来的末日审判的恐惧，没有什么可以阻止我在肉欲的泥潭中越陷越深。在我观念的转变中，这种惧怕从没有离开我的心。

［……］

我走过的路是多么的曲折啊！当我希望通过抛弃你而去找到更好的东西时，我的灵魂将会遇到怎样的危险！无论我前后左右的路会通向哪里，我躺在艰难的床上，只有在你那里，灵魂才得以安息。你把我们从让我们迷失的错误的痛苦中解救出来，让我们走你的道路，并安慰我们：“继续奔跑吧，我会支持你，我会引导你并护送你到达终点。”

第七卷

1

到这时，我那充满罪恶的青春结束了。我逐渐步入成熟期，但是我年龄越大，我就越是可耻地自欺欺人。除了这些通常肉眼所见之物外，我不能想象出任何实体。主啊，但是我不能想象你人体的形状，我反对这一观点，因为我已经开始学习哲学，并且我很高兴地发现，我们的灵性母亲，你的大公教会，也反对这一信念。但是我不知道还能怎样想你。

我只是一个男人，一个软弱的男人，但是我试图把你看做最高的神，唯一的上帝，真正的神。在我心里，我相信你永远不会衰亡、受损或变化，尽管我不知道这是为什么，我确定无疑地懂得，会衰亡的事物较之不会衰亡的事物更为低级，于是我毫不犹豫地把不会被伤害的放在会被伤害的上面，而且我看见保持不变的事物是比不断变化的事物更好。我的心里充满苦涩的对我想象的创造抗议，这唯一的真理是我仅有的武器，我可以用它努力清除云集于我心智之眼前的所有不洁的意象。但是我难以把它们清除，我每一次眨眼，它们又在我眼前聚集，它们成群地在我眼前出现，挡住了我的视线，尽管我不会想象你人体的形状，但我无法让自己摆脱这样一种思想，即你是某种身体物质在空间的伸展，要么渗透在世界之中，要么在世界之外的空间无限扩散。我认为这一物质是某种不会衰亡或伤害或变化的东西，因此比可能遭受腐败、损坏或变化的任何物质要更好。我用这种方式来推理，因为如果我试图想象某种没有空间方位的东西，对我来说就什么也不是，绝对的没有、毫无保留，连虚空都算不上。如果一个身体从被它占据的空间中移走，那个空间就空空如也，不管是在地上、水中、空气中或是天空中，那里依然将保持空无的状态。那儿什么也没有，就仅仅是一个空间而已。

［……］

于是我也思想你，我生命的生命，作为一个向四处延伸的多维的伟大存在，在无限的空间扩散，渗透整个的大千世界，并到达了世界之外没有界线的地方，于是地球和天空以及所有创造物都被你充满，它们不能超出你的范围，而你却没有极限。空气是覆盖大地的大气层，是一个物质的身体，但是却挡不住太阳光。阳光穿过它并穿透它，却没有破坏它或撕裂它，而是完全地填充它。用同样的方式，我想象你能够穿透物质的身体，不仅仅是空气和天空及大海，也包括地球，你可以穿透它们的所有部分，包括最大的和最小的部分，故而它们因你的同在而被充满，你通过这种看不见的力量统管你创造的所有事物，从内部和外部进行统管。

这就是我坚持的理论，因为我不能用其它的方式想象你。但这是一个错误的理论。如果它是正确的，就意味着地球的大部分将包含着你的大部分，而更小的部分则占更小的比例。任何事物都会因你的存在而充满，但是，通过这一方式，大象的身体比麻雀可以容纳更多的你，因为大象比麻雀大，而且会占据更多的空间。于是，你就被世界分成各个不同部分，根据它的尺寸或大或小。这当然是很不正确的。但是那时你还没有在我的黑暗中给我光明。

3

虽然我声称并坚定地相信，主啊，我的上帝，真正的上帝，你不仅创造了我们的灵魂，也创造了我们的身体，甚至创造了所有事物，包括活的和无生命的事物，尽管我相信你是不会腐败、不会变异、也不会有任何程度的变化，我依然找不到对罪恶起源的明确的不繁复的解释。不管可能是什么原因，我找不到任何理论可以让我相信永恒不变的上帝是可变的。如果我相信这一点，我自己就会变成邪恶的成因，这正是我试图去寻找的事情。于是我继续从容地寻找，因为我很确信摩尼教的理论是错误的。我由衷地反驳这些人，因为我可以看见他们探寻罪恶的起源时，自己却满身罪恶，他们宁愿认为可能经受罪恶，也不愿意承认他们会犯罪。

我被告知我们犯罪是基于我们的自由意志选择这样做，并且承受罪恶是因为你的正义恰好要求我们这样做。我竭尽全力理解这一道理，但是我不能够清楚地理解。我试图在深渊中提高我被深渊吞没的精神感知，但是我再次重新陷入深渊。我不断地尝试，但总是重新陷进去。有一件事情让我能够进入你的光明。我知道我有一个意志，像我知道我有生命一样确信。当我选择做什么或不做什么时，我很确信是我自己，而不是其他什么人，实施了这一意志行为。因此，我即将认识到我的罪恶之源就在于此。如果我做任何违背意愿的事情，对我来说意味着发生某事，而不是我做了某事，我不把它看做错误，而是一个惩罚。并且，因为我认为你是公正的上帝，因此我承认你的惩罚也不是不公正的。

然而接着我会再次问我自己：“是谁造了我？当然是你，我的天父，你不仅是惟一的善，而且是善本身。那么，我怎样拥有一个可以选择做错事和拒绝做好事的意志，据此为我应该受到惩罚的原因提供一个合理的解释呢？是谁把这个意志给了我？当我的一切被上帝所创造，上帝本身就是甜美的，是谁为我播下痛苦的种子？如果是魔鬼做的，那么是谁创造了魔鬼？如果他曾经是一个好天使，由于他自己的邪恶意志变成了魔鬼，他是怎样拥有让他成为魔鬼的邪恶意志的，难道不是由至善的造物主把他创造为天使的吗？”

［……］

12

我很清楚，即便会衰亡的事物也是善的。如果有善的最高秩序，他们不可能变得腐败。但是二者都不可能变得腐败，除非他们在某些方式上是善的。如果他们是最高的善，他们就不可能被朽坏。另一方面，如果他们完全没有善，他们就只有被朽坏了。腐败是有害的，但是除非他的善消失了，不然他就不会有害处。他们的结论要么一定是朽坏没有害处——这不可能，要么是任何东西都因善被剥夺而朽坏——这是毫无疑问的。但是如果他们被剥夺了所有的善，他们就根本不会存在了。如果他们依然存在，但是不会永久被朽坏，他们就会比以前更好，因为他们现在继续在不可朽坏的状态中存在。如果说失去了所有的善，事物会更善，还有什么比这更荒谬呢？

于是我们必须得出如下结论：如果事物被剥夺了所有的善，他们将全体消失。并且这意味着只要他们存在，他们就是善。因此，无论是什么，都是善的。罪恶，我也试图发现它的起源，罪恶不是实体，因为如果是实体的话，就不会是善。要么是善的最高秩序的不可朽坏之实体，要么就是一个易朽坏的实体，这实体除非它是好的，否则就会朽坏。于是，对我来说，这就变得明朗了，你所创造的所有都是好的，没有实体不是你造的。因为你没有将他们造成一样，任何一个事物都是好的并且总体上都是好的，我们的上帝创造的所有被造物都是非常好的。

17

我很惊奇，尽管我现在爱你而不是你那里的某种幻影，但我没有坚持为上帝感到快乐。你的美善吸引我靠近你，但很快我自身的重量就把我从你身边拽走，我沮丧地再次坠入世俗的迷乱之中。我背负的是肉体的习性。但我仍然保留着对你的记忆，而且我无可置疑的认为你是我唯一的依靠，但只是我还做不到。肉身永远是灵魂的负累，世俗的牢笼压迫着沉浸在万事中的思想。我也确信人类从世界的基本层面看见了你不可见的本质、你永恒的力量、你的神性，这些都通过你的受造物而为人所知。我想知道我要怎样才能欣赏地球或天国的物质中的美，是什么让我能够对受到变化的事物做出正确的决定，并规定某物应该这样，另一个应该那样。我想知道它是怎样的，我才能以这种方式判断事物，并且我意识到在我的思想之上，在变化的世界之上，存在着从不改变的真正永恒的真理。于是，我的思想逐渐从考虑物质事物转移到了灵魂，灵魂通过身体的感觉来感知事物，接着转移到灵魂内在的力量，身体的感觉将永恒的真实传递给灵魂。愚笨的动物是不会去到这个超越层面的。下一步是理性的力量，由肉体感觉交流出来的事实交由理性来判断。

这种理性的力量使我认识到自身也是可能变化的，它引导我思考它理解的来源。它使我的思想退出其正常的过程，并从被加在上面的混乱的意象中退回，以致当它确定无疑地宣称永恒不变的事物比易变的事物更好时，通过理性可能发现是什么光照耀他的全身，并且如何逐渐认识到永恒不变本身。除非由于某种原因，它认识到了永恒不变，否则它不可能确定它喜欢永恒不变而不喜欢易变。因此，在敬畏的瞬间，我的思想达到了洞见上帝本体的程度。于是，最后我确实看见了凭万物可感知的你不可见的本质。但是我没有力量凝视他们。在软弱中，我后退并回到自己的老路上，除了那些我喜爱的和渴求的记忆之外，我什么也没有，就如同我闻到了美食的味道却尚未品尝一样。

18

我开始寻找获取足够力量的方式使我可以以你为乐，但是我找不到这一方式，直到我找到了上帝与人的中间人，耶稣基督，他是人，和人类一样，同时也作为上帝统治万物，受上帝永远的护佑，他向我发出召唤：“我就是道路、真理和生命”。是他与我们的肉体结合起来。这肉体是我们太软弱而无法获得的粮食，因为道成肉身，所以你的智慧是喂养婴儿期的我们的乳汁，我不够谦卑，没有将耶稣基督作为我的上帝，也没有领会到他取了软弱的人的样式所带来的是何等教训。这教训就是你的话语，永恒的真理，超越你创造物的最高层次，要把那些愿意降服于他的人高升。他下来用造我们的泥土为他自己在这世界上搭建了一座低矮贫贱的小屋，通过小屋他让那些服从他的人放下自己来到他身边。他会治愈他们充满骄傲的心，并在这心里培育爱，让他们不再因为自信满满而误入歧途，但是他们在他们的脚下看到上帝本人时， 那位以我们会死的肉身降卑来与享他的荣美的神，认识到他们自己的弱点。最后，他们在无力中匍匐在他的人性之前，然后随着神性的提升而提升。

第八卷

6

主啊，我的帮助者，我的救主，我现在要向你的圣名告知并忏悔，你是如何将我从紧紧束缚我的肉欲的禁锢和世俗事物的奴役中解放出来［……］

一天，由于某些原因，这些原因我记不起来了，内布利提乌斯没有和我们在一起，我和阿利比乌斯在我们的房子里接受一个来自非洲其他国家人的拜访，他叫蓬提齐亚努斯，在皇宫中担任要职。他向我们请教了一些事情，我们坐下谈了一会儿。碰巧他看见桌上放了一本游戏的书，就在我们的座位旁边。他拿起来，打开，并吃惊地发现书里面有使徒保罗的书信，他认为这是我当老师所用的一本书。于是他微笑地看着我，告诉我他很高兴，而且很惊奇看到这本书，当时在我眼前没有其他的人。他当然是一个基督徒，是你忠实的仆人，我们的上帝。在教堂中，他跪在你的面前，日复一日地祷告，并牢记它们。当我告诉他我花了很大的精力学习保罗的书信时，他开始告诉我安东尼【1】的故事，安东尼是埃及的修士，他的名字在你的仆人中享有盛誉，但在这之前，我和阿利比乌斯从来没有听过他的名字。蓬提齐亚努斯认识到这一点后，他更详细地给我们讲解，希望给我们这些无知的大脑注入一些知识，因他很诧异我们没有听说过这个人。而我们则惊异于听到你最近做出的神奇事情，几乎就在我们的时代，在大公教会中，被那么多人所见证。实际上，我们三个人都很吃惊，我和阿利比乌斯因所听到的故事太奇妙而惊讶，而蓬提齐亚努斯吃惊是因为我们以前居然没有听说过。

从这以后，他继续告诉我们修道院里成群的修士的故事，他们的生活方式散发着你的馨香，是荒漠中的绿洲。所有这些对我来说都是新闻。米兰也有一座修道院，在城墙外面，在安波罗修的带领下有很多的兄弟团契生活，但我们对这也是一无所知。蓬提齐亚努斯继续说着，我们默默地听着。最后他告诉我们，他和三个同伴在特里尔城的事情。有一天下午，皇帝在竞技场看表演，他们在城墙边的花园里散步。他们分成了两组，蓬提齐亚努斯和另一同伴一直一起，另外两个则自己分开了。他们继续散步，第二组来到一座房子前，房子是你的一些仆人的，他俩精神贫乏，但天国属于他们。在房子里面他们发现了一本关于安东尼的书。其中一人开始阅读，并且非常着迷，为故事所激动，甚至在他读完故事之前，他就开始考虑自己如何也能过上同样的生活，抛弃世间的职业，专心服侍你。他们都是朝廷的官员，在为国家服务。突然之间，他心里充满圣洁的爱。他对自己很愤怒并充满了悔恨，他看着他的朋友说：“我们希望通过努力得到什么？我们期待什么？我们服务国家的目的是什么？我们在希望在宫廷里有比做国王的朋友更好的事情吗？尽管是这样，我们的位置一定岌岌可危并且暴露在危险之下？我们将会每次都遇到，仅仅达到另一个更大的危险。我们需要多久才能到达?但是只要我愿意，我可以在这个关键时刻成为上帝的朋友。”

他说了这些之后，又回到书上，遭受到在他内心产生的新生命的痛苦煎熬。他继续阅读，在他心里，在那只有你可以看见的地方，正在发生变化。他的思想正在摆脱世俗，目前就可以看见。因为他在阅读时，他心潮澎湃，激动不已，最后哭了出来，因为他知道什么是正道并决定走正道。现在你的仆人对朋友说，“我已经同我的抱负决裂了，我决定侍奉上帝。从这一刻起，此时此地，我要开始服侍他。如果你不遵循我的引导，就别挡着我的路。”另一个人回答说，他会与同志站在一起，因为伺奉上帝是荣耀的，并且回报也是巨大的。于是这两位你现在的仆人，在付出的代价造塔，也就是说，他们以失去他们拥有的一切为代价来跟随你。

这时蓬提齐亚努斯和一直与他散步的同伴从花园的另一端走过来，他们来到房子跟前，看着他们的朋友。既然找到他们，他们说回家的时间到了，日光都开始消退了。但是另外两个人告诉他们自己已经做出的决定和计划做的事情。他们解释是什么原因促使他们决定走这样的路，他们是怎样达成一致的，并且他们要求朋友，如果不加入，至少不要成为他们的绊脚石。蓬提齐亚努斯说，他和另一个人不会改变他们原来的道路，但是他们为自己的生活状态而感动地流泪。他们祝贺他们并要求他们代为祷告。于是，他们回到宫殿，被系在大地上的心所重负，但是其他人留在小房子里，他们的心系天国。这两个人都已经订婚，但当那两个女人听到所发生的事情，她们也决定为你守独身。

7

这是蓬提齐亚努斯告诉我的。但是当他说的时候，主啊，你让我审视我自己。我已经把自己背过去，拒绝看到我自己。你让我正视自己，让我看见自己是多么肮脏，多么扭曲和卑鄙，怎样的遍体疮痍。我全部都看见了，站在那里，呆若木鸡，但是没有什么地方让我可以逃避自己。如果我试图把我目光移开，我会看着蓬提齐亚乌斯，他依然在讲述他的故事，这样一来你就让我再一次与自己面对面，迫使我与自己的目光相接，让我可以看见我的邪恶并厌恶它。我已经知道了自己的罪孽，但是我经常假装那是不一样的东西。 我视而不见，并忘记了它。

但是现在，当我听到那两个人是怎样做出选择，把自己完全托付给你，从而拯救他们时，我的心越是被他们所温暖，与他们进行比较，我就越恨我自己。我们的生命已经过去了很多年——十二年，除非是我记错了——从我十九岁那年读西塞罗的《荷尔顿西乌斯》起，它激发了我学习哲学的愿望。但是我依然迟迟不愿意放弃这个世界的快乐，这种放弃可以使我在这个世界自由地寻找其它幸福，这种寻找，不要说是发现，可以使我得到奖赏，它胜过人间的财宝和王国领土，胜过所有肉体的快乐， 只要一点头就可以得到。作为一个年轻人，在犯错时我感到痛苦，特别是在青春期开始之时。我为了贞洁而向你祷告：“请你赐予我贞洁和节制，但不是现在。”我很担心你会马上答应我的祷告，并立刻治愈我肉欲的疾病，这种欲望是我想被满足的，而不是想去压制的。我徘徊在摩尼教渎神迷信的邪恶之路上，不是因为我认为那是正确的，而是因为我信仰它胜过基督教，我没有认真考究基督教，而是抱着恶意直接反对。

［……］

蓬提齐亚努斯一直地说，我的良心就是这样被啮蚀。我被燃烧的羞耻所战胜，当他结束他的故事并完成他此行的任务之后，他走了，我陷入沉思当中。我提出各种控诉来反对我自己。我拷问我的灵魂并用理性痛斥它，为什么现在应该追随我自己，既然我要努力地追随你。但它进行了反击。我的灵魂不愿听从，但也不能提供任何理由。所有过去的辩解已经用尽，并证明是错误的。它沉默不语，像害怕失去生命一样害怕除掉恶习，但是正是这恶习要了它的命。

8

我内在的自我是一座被分开来反对它自己的房子。在我内心激烈交锋中，我激起对我灵魂的反对。我转向了阿利比乌斯。我的表情暴露了我内心的不安，我惊呼：“我们到底怎么了？这个故事有什么意义？这些人没有接受像我们这样的教育，但他们站起身来直捣天国的大门，而我们这些饱学之士却匍匐在这个世界的血肉之下！这是因为他们走着我们引以为耻的那条道路吗？如果不跟上，会更糟糕吗？”

［……］

我们住的房子有一个小花园。我们可以自由地使用这个花园以及其它房间，因为我们的东道主，也就是房主，不住在那里。我现在发现自己被我胸中的烦乱驱使，我不得不躲在花园里，在那里没有人会打断这激烈的挣扎，在那里我是自己的竞争者，直到我得出结论为止。结论是你知道的，主啊，但是我却不知道。与此同时，我疯狂地把自己放在一边，这疯狂将使我清醒。我将死亡，这死亡会把我带向新生。我知道我里头的罪，但是没有意识到自己很快就会变善。于是我走进花园，阿利比乌斯跟着我。他的出现没有打乱我的独处，在这种情况下他怎能让我一人独处？我们在离房子尽可能远的地方坐下。我暴怒得像发了狂似的，但我自己没有接受你的意愿进入你的圣约。在我的骨子里，我知道这是我应该做的。在我内心深处，我向天上赞美。为达到这一目标，我不需要战马或战船。我甚至不需要从房子走到我们坐的地方那么远，因为要走过这一段旅程，并平安到达，没有什么比意愿的行动更为需要了。但是这必须是一个坚决又全心投入的意愿的行动，而不是那些不断地盘旋在我脑中的站不住脚的愿望，以致它必须与其自身角力，一部分努力向上，一部分坠落大地。

［……］

11

这是我疾病的本质。我处于被折磨中，比过去更强烈地谴责自己，因为我被自己的锁链所捆绑。我希望锁链可以一次性全部打烂，因为现在对我来说，这只是一件捆着我的小事情。它一直捆着我。主啊，你从来没有停止关注我的内心。在你严厉的仁慈中，你用害怕和羞耻之鞭抽打我，以免我再次放弃使得破旧的残留锁链不被打破，而是重新获得力量，并更加快速地遮蔽我的眼睛。在心里我不停地说：“现在随它去吧，现在随它去吧！”仅仅说了这些，我就快要做出决定了。我即将做决定，但是我没有做成。尽管我没有退回到自己原来的状态。我站在决定的边缘，等着呼吸新鲜空气。我又试了一次，更接近我的目标了，那时依然又一点点地近了，以至于我几乎可以伸手抓住它。但我还是没有达到。我不能伸手触及它或抓住它，因为我从自己应该死亡并获得新生的台阶上退了下来。我低级的本能牢牢地抓住了我，比高级的本能更强了，那高级的本能却是我没有尝试过的。我越接近我要转变的时刻，我就越害怕地退缩了。但是这没有把我拉回去，也没有扭转我的目标：仅仅让我进退两难。

［……］

12

我探索自己隐藏的灵魂深度，并从中揪出可鄙的秘密，当我在心中把它们聚集在一起时，我的心里发生了强大的风暴，我的眼泪奔涌而出。我站起来，离开阿利比乌斯，好让我可以流泪并为我心灵的污秽而哭泣，对我而言眼泪更适合在独处中流淌。我走得很远以避免尴尬，甚至他在的时候也不例外。他一定察觉到我的感情，因为我已经说了一些，他已经从我的哽咽的声音中知道了。于是我站起来，让他充满困惑地坐在那儿。不知怎么的，我扑到在一棵无花果树下，任凭我的泪水流淌，这是你应当接受的献祭。我的上帝啊，我有太多的话要对你说，我说了很多话，虽不是这些原话，但是这些意思：“主啊，你永远不会满意吗？我要一直接受你的惩罚吗？请忘记我长久以来的罪恶吧。”我仍然觉得自己被罪恶所捆绑。我继续在痛苦中哭求：“我不断地说‘明天，明天’，还要说多久？为什么不是现在？为什么不在现在就结束我丑陋的罪恶？”

我不断问自己这些问题，哭泣着，心中悲痛万分，这时我听见附近的房子里传来一个小孩子唱歌的声音。我说不清是男孩还是女孩的声音，但是它一遍一遍重复着：“拿起来读，拿起来读”。我抬起头，仔细地想这是不是孩子们在游戏时常常念诵的歌谣，可是我记不起这样的歌谣。我止住了涌流的泪，站起身来，告诉自己这只可能是神圣的命令，要我打开《圣经》，去读那随之映入我眼帘的第一段经文。我听过安东尼的故事，我记得他是怎样偶然去教会听到福音，并把它作为对自己的劝诫：“去变卖你的所有，分给穷人；你要积攒财富于天上，然后还要来跟随我”。经过这一神圣的宣召，他马上皈依了你。

于是我快速返回阿利比乌斯坐的地方，因为我离开时把使徒保罗的书信留在那里了。我抓起那本书，打开它，默默地阅读那映入眼帘的第一段：“不可荒宴醉酒，不可放荡纵欲，不可纷争嫉妒。总要披戴主耶稣基督，不要为肉体安排，去放纵私欲”。我不想再读下去，也不需要再读下去了。在那一瞬间，当我读完这句话时，好像一束信赖的光涌进我的内心，所有怀疑的黑暗被驱散了。

我用手指或其他的什么东西在书上做了标记，合上了书。当我告诉阿利比乌斯所发生的事情时，我的表情很平静。他也告诉我他的感受，当然那是我不知道的。他想看我所阅读的东西。我拿给他看，他接着读下去，我不知道接下来是什么，原来是：“你们要接纳信心软弱的人。”阿利比乌斯把这句话用在他身上，并这样告诉我。这条忠告足以给他力量，没有经过任何犹豫的痛苦，他就下定决心并以此作为自己的目标。这很适合他的道德品质，在这方面他比我强很多。

然后我进去告诉我的母亲，她简直是喜出望外。当我们讲述事情的经过时，她胜利地欢呼并赞美你，你满有大能，你的大能足以使你所行的超出所有我们所求所想的。因为她看见你应允她的远远超过了她曾经泪眼汪汪地祷告和悲伤哀求的。你使我皈依你自己，我不再渴求妻子或把任何希望放在这个世界上，而是牢牢地把握信仰的原则，那些原则你已经在多年以前在梦中向她展现了。是你把她的悲伤变成了欢乐，是比她曾经最想要的欢乐更多的欢乐，也是比她曾经想在我的孩子中找到的更甜美、更纯洁的欢乐。

注释

【1】安东尼，公元250年—约356年，出生于埃及，长期在沙漠中修行，对后代的修道主义影响深远。

第九卷

2

知道你在注视着我，我想自己最好从兜售口舌的市场上平静地退下来，而不是突然间轰动地离开。那些对你的律法与安宁没有思考的年轻人，他们在法庭上仅仅是撒谎和疯狂地争辩，我打算不让他们在我的口中买到任何武器以装备他们的疯狂。幸运的是，快到暑假了，我决定忍耐并推迟到一个合适的时候离开。既然我已经被你救赎，我就不想再次出卖自己。这个计划是你知道的，而除了我最亲密的朋友之外没有人知道。我们相互约定不让太多的人知道，虽然当我们自“流泪谷”上升时，唱着高升的歌，你已经给了我们锋利的箭和燃烧的火炭来抵御狡诈的舌头，这舌头可能在给予忠告的名义下，用他们所谓的爱将我们吞下去，像人们吃自己喜爱的食物一样。

［……］

6

当提交我的名字去受洗的时间到来时，我们离开乡下回到米兰。阿利比乌斯也在那时决定在你里面获得新生。他已经具备举行圣礼所需的谦卑，他的身体已经经过严格的纪律的考验，他甚至会赤脚行走在意大利冰冻的土地上，这事很少有人敢做的。我们也带上了阿德奥达多斯，我的罪所生的亲生儿子。你给了他所有的天赋。尽管他才十五岁，很多有学问和受人尊敬的人在智力上都不及他。我承认他的天赋是源于你，主啊，我的上帝，你是万物的创造者，你拥有巨大的力量来重塑我们的缺陷，我自己除了罪之外什么也没有给予他。是你，而不是别人，让我们按照你的期望把他培养长大。这都是你馈赠，我都一一承认。

［……］

我们使他成为我们的同伴，在你的恩典之下没有人比我们自己更年轻。我们已经准备好以你的方式开始学校教育。我们都受洗了，昔日所有的忧虑都一扫而光。这些日子太短了，我沉迷在惊奇和快乐之中，默想着你拯救人类的远大计划。当我听到赞美诗和颂歌的时候，我不禁潸然泪下，来自你教堂的甜美歌声深深地打动了我。音乐在我耳边回荡，真理在我心中涌出，我献身的情感激烈涌动着，我泪如泉涌。但是这都是欢喜的眼泪。

8

哦，上帝啊，你让心意相同的人生活在一起，并把一个来自我家乡名叫艾弗第乌斯的年轻人带来加入我们。他在我们之前皈依我主和受洗，并受雇为政府官员，但是他放弃了为政府服务而追随你。他留下与我们一起，我们打算一起过敬虔的生活。我们讨论着在哪里最能伺奉你，接着便一起动身返回非洲。当我们还在梯伯河口的奥斯蒂亚城【1】的时候，我母亲就去世了。

还有很多的事情我不能在这本书中记下来，因为我要节省时间。我的上帝啊，对于那些我还没有提到的事情，我祈求你接受我的忏悔和感激。但是我不会遗漏一件关于我母亲——你的仆人——的事情。在肉身上，她让我来到这个世界上：在她心里，她让我出生在你永恒的光中。我应该述说的不是她的能力，而是你给她的天赋。她既不是她自己的创造者也不是自己的老师。是你创造了她，即使是她的父母也不知道自己的孩子长大是什么样的。是基督的教导，是你独生儿子的指引，在一个基督教家庭中，她在成长中一直顺从并尊重你，这个家庭是你众多好的基督教家庭之一，属于你的教会［……］

10

在她去世前不久——你早就知道那一天的，主啊，但我们不知道——我和母亲两个人逗留在奥斯蒂亚城，透过一个窗户可以看见院子里的花园。我们经过长途跋涉之后呆在那里，那地方远离尘嚣，我们在做远航之前的休整。我相信我要说的是你预先所做的秘密工作。我们在一起单独谈话，我们的交谈宁静而快乐。我们忘记过去，努力把握未来。在你的真理面前，真理就是你自己，我们在思考圣徒的永生是什么样子，这种生命是眼睛未曾见过，耳朵未曾听过，人心也未曾想过的。但是当我们张开心灵之口，接受从你天上的生命之源流出的泉水，只要是我们的力量所及，我们就会洒上圣水，并在一定程度上理解这一伟大的奥秘。

我们的谈话让我们得出结论，任何的肉体快乐，不论是多么伟大的快乐，不论世俗之光向它照射怎样的华彩，除了圣徒喜乐的生活之外，没有什么能够与之相媲美，甚至根本不值得一提。当爱的火焰在我们体内燃烧得越旺，提升我们使我们越来越接近永恒的上帝时，我们的思想会从在不同程度上徘徊在物质事物的范围，到达天国，太阳和月亮及星宿从天国照耀着大地。当我攀登地越高，就越惊奇地思想和诉说你所创造的一切。最终我们回到自己的心灵，然后又超越它们回到那个有永恒富足的地方，在那里你让以色列人食用你真理的粮食。在那里生命是智慧，所有我们知道的事物都是藉着他造的，包括已经形成的事物，也包括尚未形成的事物。但是那智慧不是被造的：它一直是那样的，而且永远是那样——或者，我不如说“一直是”和“将是”，可简单地说“它是”，因为永恒不是在过去也不是在将来。当我们谈论永恒的智慧时，我们用心中所有的力量来渴求它并极力追求它，霎那间我们达到并触摸到它。然后在叹息中，带着我们灵里的收获，返回到自己说话的声音中，这声音里的每一个词是有开头有结尾的——这与你的话语相当的不同，我们的主啊，你持守自己到永远，不会衰老，并给所有事物以新生。

［……］

这是我们谈话的大意，尽管我们没有用这么精确的语言来说，也没有像对你说的这样准确。但是你知道，主啊，那天我们说话时，世界上所有的快乐与我们所谈论的相比显得没有任何价值。我母亲说：“儿子，对我来说在这个世界上我已经找不到任何更快乐的事情了。我仍可以做什么，或是我为什么在这个世界上，我都不知道，我在这世上已经没有其它的盼望了。我为什么希望在这个世界上活得长一点，只有一个原因，并且是唯一的原因，就是看见你在我死之前成为一个基督宗教徒。上帝应允了我的愿望，他的应许比这更多，因我现在看见你成为他的仆人，并轻视这世界所给你的幸福。我在这世界还有其它的祈求吗？”

11

我简直记不起我是怎样回答她的。从那天起大约过了五天，或是五天不到，母亲就发烧卧病在床了。一天，她在病中昏厥过去，并在短时间内失去了知觉。我们急忙赶到她身边，但是她很快就恢复了知觉，看着站在她身边的我和弟弟。她满脸疑惑的问：“我在哪里？”她近距离看着我们，满脸悲伤，沉默不语，她说：“你们要把母亲埋在这儿”。我什么也没有说，极力克制着眼泪，但是我弟弟说了一些话，大意是他希望母亲为了她的缘故死在自己的国家，而不是异国他乡。当她听到这些时，她面带忧色地看着弟弟，眼神中充满了对他这些世俗思想的责备。她转过来对我说：“听听他在说些什么！”然后她对我们俩说：“你们在什么地方埋葬你的母亲都没有关系。不要因为这事而让你们担忧！我所期望你们的是，不论在哪里，你应该在上帝的祭坛上想起我。”

［……］

母亲生病大约九天后，她五十六岁，我三十六岁时，她虔诚、全然献上的灵魂离开了肉体。

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我的灵魂现在已经从那伤痛中康复了，也许我对这尘世的情感深感愧疚，我的眼中流出了另一种眼泪。主啊，那是我为你的使女所流的眼泪。那眼泪是从一颗惶恐的灵魂中流出的，这灵魂一想到每个与亚当同死的灵魂都要面对的种种危险就极度不安。尽管甚至在她的灵魂离开肉体之前，她已经活在基督的里面，而且她的信仰和美好生活与你圣名的荣耀共鸣，但是，我不敢断言母亲从受洗得到新生的那时起，从她口中没有说过一句与你诫命有抵触的话。你的儿子，就是真理本身，曾经说过：“凡是向弟兄发怒的，愚蠢的人，就必要遭受地狱之火的煎熬”，即使是值得颂赞的一生，如果抛开你的怜悯，当你审视他的时候，这也是有过失的。但是你不会无情地搜寻我们的缺点，因为我们希望并相信有一天我们会在你的身边找到一席之地。然而如果某人把他的功绩加以罗列，这功绩除了你的恩典之外还会有什么呢？但愿人能够明白他们只不过是人！他们所要夸耀的只是主！

为此，我的荣耀和我的生命，我心中的上帝，我要暂时抛开我母亲所做的所有善事。为那些，我感谢你，但是现在我为她的罪祷告。请你通过你那被钉十字架又坐在你的右边并为我们祈求的圣子来聆听，他是我们伤口的真正良药。我知道我的母亲总是表现出怜悯，并全心宽恕他人对她的冒犯。主啊，如果她在受洗之后这么长的时间里对你有所冒犯，请你宽恕她。我恳求你原谅她；不要追究她的责任。让你的仁慈隆重地欢迎你的判断吧。因你的话语是真实的，而且你已经答应怜悯那些值得怜悯的人。如果他们是值得怜悯的，这是你的馈赠。你要怜悯谁，就怜悯谁；你要恩待谁，就恩待谁。

［……］

让她与丈夫在一起安息。他是她的第一位丈夫，而且母亲没有再嫁。她服侍丈夫，把辛勤劳动得来的果实献给你，最后她为你赢得了他。主啊，我的上帝，启发你的仆人，我的弟兄——他们都是你的孩子。我的主人，我用心和声音以及笔来服你——启发这些读你书的人来纪念莫妮卡，你的仆人，在你的祭坛上和巴特利西乌斯，早于她而去的丈夫。尽管我不知道，但是通过他们你把我带进了这种生活。让读者虔诚地纪念他们，他们不仅是我的父母，而且是我的弟兄和姐妹，在教会我们大公教的母亲那里，我们同属于你，我们的天父，我们将是永恒耶路撒冷的居民，他们在向这圣城的朝圣途中一路叹息，从他们的启程直到他们回到你身边为止，比起我一个人，如果更多的人通过阅读我的《忏悔录》来祈祷的话，我母亲对我最后的遗愿能够得到更大的满足。

注释

【1】梯伯河又称台伯河，位于意大利境内，奥斯蒂亚城位于梯伯河畔，是古罗马时期的著名商业和交通中心。

第十卷

2

哦，主啊，人类良知的最深处在你眼前是赤露敞开的。就算我不向你忏悔，我有什么能逃得过你的双眼呢？我只能遮蔽自己眼睛不看你，而不能在你面前隐藏自己。但是，我现在的痛苦证明我对自己是多么不满意，你是我的光和我的喜乐。你是我的爱和渴求，我以自己为耻并把自己抛在一旁，只是追随你，而且只有在你里面，才能让你和我都满意。

因此主啊，我的所有在你面前是赤露敞开的。我宣称向你忏悔使我获益良多。我不是仅仅用舌头的语言和声音来忏悔，而是用我灵魂的声音和我的思想大声向你哭泣来忏悔。你的耳朵能够听到，当我充满罪恶时，如果我对自己不满，这忏悔就是对你忏悔；当我做了善事时，如果我不认为是自己的美德，这也是对你的忏悔。主啊，你赐福正义之人，但是你首先使罪人成为义人。所以我的忏悔是在你——我的上帝——的注视下默默地进行，同时又是大声的忏悔，因为即使我的口舌完全无声，我的心也在向你哭泣。我向人诉说的一切美言，你已经提前在我心里听见了，而且不论你在我心里听见的美言是什么，都是你早先对我说过的。

4

人们在听我说的过程中希望得到什么益处呢？当他们听到借着你的恩典我与你这么地接近，他们会愿意与我一起感谢你吗？当他们听见我因自己的罪的重负而与你相隔绝时，他们会为我向你祷告吗？如果这是他们的心愿，我要告诉他们我是谁。主啊，我的上帝，如果很多人因为我向你表示感谢，很多人都因我而向你祷告，我就得不到什么好处。让那些我的真正的弟兄，按照你所教导的，爱我身上值得爱的品质，并让他们悲伤地在我身上发现那些按照你的教导而要责备的部分。这就是我希望自己真正的弟兄心里的感受。我不会对陌生人说话，也不会对“陌生的仇敌”说话，“他们做背信弃义的誓言，并举手发假誓。”我真正的弟兄是这样一些人，他们发现我的善就在心里高兴，而发现我的罪时就感到悲伤。他们是我真正的弟兄，因为不论他们看到的是我的善还是罪，他们都依然爱我。向这样的人我才会敞露自己。让他们发现我身上的善而感到欣慰，发现罪时感到难过。那善是我在你里面藉着你的恩典做的，而罪恶则是我自己的错误。这是你对我的惩罚。让我的弟兄为其中一个感到欣慰，为另一个感到难过。让感恩的旋律和悲伤的哭泣一起从他们的心中涌起，好像他们是在你面前燃烧的祭物的器皿。我向你祈求：“主啊，悦纳他们在你圣殿前献上的馨香，为了你名的缘故，请依照你丰盛的慈爱来怜爱我们。请不要放弃你已经开始的工作，而要让依然不完美的我变得完美”。

于是，如果我继续忏悔，我忏悔的不是我的过去，而是现在，这就是忏悔带来的善果。我向你忏悔时内心很快乐，但是也有忧惧。有悲伤，却也有希望。但是我不仅仅向你忏悔，而且也为向那些相信你的人忏悔，他们分享我的快乐并和我一样，命定是要死亡。在你的王国中，他们是我的同路人，并陪伴我同走天路，不论他们是先行，或是将要走，或是与我一起走过生命之路。他们是你的仆人，也是我的弟兄。你拣选他们做你的儿子。你把他们叫做主人，如果我希望与你同活并享受你的恩典，我就必须服侍他们。这是你的吩咐，而如果这是仅仅言语，而没有基督的榜样作为行动的示范，那么这种命令对我来说就没有什么意义。我在话语和行为上都遵从你的吩咐。我在你的翅膀的庇护下如此行，如果不是把灵魂交给你，寻求你翅膀的庇护，让你知道是我的弱点，我就会处于危险之中。我不过是一个孩子，但是我的天父永远活着，我有一个足够强大的保护者来拯救我。那生养我、看顾我的是同一位，对我来说，除了你，全能的神，以外没有良善，你与我同在且甚至在我皈依你以前就与我同在了。于是我要按照你吩咐的去做，向我所侍奉的展示自己，不是曾经的自己，而是现在和将来的自己。但是，因为我不会检查我自己的行为，让我的言语按照它们的本意被理解。

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你命令我我要继续让自己远离肉体的情欲，眼目的情欲和今生的骄傲。你命令我不要犯淫乱，虽然你并不禁止我结婚，但你建议我走一条更好的路。你给我恩典，我听从你的吩咐，甚至在圣礼之前我就开始禁欲。但是在我的记忆中，我说了很多，仍然还保留着以前习惯的印象。当我清醒时，这些习性对我有一些影响。但是当我进入睡梦中，它们不仅给我快乐，而且好像在行动上默认了。这种虚幻的想象强烈作用于我的灵魂和肉体，在睡梦中这幻想能够影响我，但是在现实中却不能。哦，主啊，我的上帝，我在睡觉时难道就不是我自己了吗？但是在我经历从醒到睡眠，或是从睡眠到醒时，我的情况是如此的不同。在睡眠中，我那可以抵制这种诱惑并保持坚定不动摇的理性哪里去了？在我闭上眼睛时被封闭起来了吗？它与身体的感觉一同入了睡吗？为什么我在梦中经常抵抗幻想的诱惑，因为我仍记得自己守贞洁的决定，并也遵守了，没有被这种东西诱惑？醒着与睡眠的差别如此之大，我睡觉时事情会以其它方式发生，当我醒着意识到的时候，我返回到清晰的心智状态，因为这种不同，我就不用为此行为负责，尽管我对一些方式或是一些其它发生在我身上的事情感到遗憾。

哦，全能的上帝，你大能的双手有足够大的力量来治愈我灵魂的所有疾病。你给我更多的恩典就可以熄灭睡眠中挑逗我的火焰。哦，主啊，你会增加我的恩赐，让我的灵魂可以跟随我来到你身边，从被捆绑的阴谋中释放，并反对这种阴谋。通过你的恩典，我在睡梦中再也不会做出可耻的、不洁的行为，这行为被肉体的想象挑起，并导致身体被玷污。我不会再做，更不要说赞同它们。对你来说，全能的主：“你有足够的力量来展开你的计划，这超越了我们所有的希望和梦想”，让我不再受这种诱惑，哪怕是意念上的微小试探，这些会激起我感官欢娱的试探，为我抵挡吧，让我在梦中也保持纯洁的心灵，这对你来说不是什么困难的事情。这是你可以在人生的任何时候为我做的，甚至在人生的黄金期。但是现在我对我良善的上帝做此忏悔，坦言我仍旧被这种罪恶所搅扰。我心中带着敬畏，因你的赐予而喜乐，但是我为自己的匮乏而悲伤，相信你会在我身上完善你的怜悯，直到我获得完全的安宁，那就是当死亡被吞没在凯旋之中时，我要全身心地与你共享的安宁。

35

我必须说出另一种诱惑，这种诱惑更加危险，因为它更加复杂。除了我们肉体的胃口，使我们渴望满足自己的感官和快乐，并引导我们走向毁灭，如果我们远离你而成为它们的奴隶，思想也会受到特定的倾向去使用肉体的感觉，不是为了某种身体的自我放纵，而是满足自己的好奇心。这种无用的好奇的伪装以科学和学习为名，因为它源于我们对知识的渴求，眼看是获得知识的主要方式，在圣经里这被称为：“眼目的情欲”。尽管，准确地说，看是眼睛的适当功能，我们用其他感觉的词，我们使用它们来获得知识。我们不会说：“听听这是多么闪光”，“闻闻这是多么的亮”，“尝一下这是怎么发光的”或是“摸摸这是怎么发光的”，我们说这些事物是因为我们看见。我们不仅会说“看看这是怎样发光的”，当某物只可以被我们的眼睛感知时，我们也会说“看看它有多响”，“看看闻起来怎么样”，“看看味道怎么样”，“看看坚硬程度如何”。于是，我说,通常的感官体验被叫做眼目的情欲，原因是，虽然视觉的功能主要属于眼睛，当用于发现知识时，我们也一样使用其它的感觉器官，可以类推。

我们可以很容易地区别享乐的动机和好奇的动机。当感觉需要快乐时，他们就寻找视觉上美丽的事物，和谐声音，芬芳的香味，以及尝起来美味、摸起来柔软的东西。但是，当他们的动机是好奇时，他们会寻找相反的事物仅仅是为了证明，不是为了一种不快的体验，而是为了体验了解和发现的滋味。在看到一具破碎的尸体时，除了恐惧之外，还有什么愉悦感呢？然而人们会趋之若鹜地看那躺在地上的尸体，仅仅是为了体验所带给他们的悲伤和恐惧的感觉。他们甚至害怕那会给他们带来噩梦，好像当他们清醒时有某种东西迫使他们去看，又或像是有什么东西像美丽的谣言一样吸引他们。对于其它的感觉也是一样，虽然再举例显得有点单调。在戏院里面怪异和奇特的表演满足人们不健康的好奇心，出于同样的原因，人们被引向探寻自然的秘密，这秘密与我们的生活没有关系。这种知识对他们没有价值，并且他们期望得到的仅仅是为了求知。这也是很奇怪的，这使得人们求助巫术，并出于为了让一些人走上邪路的目的而努力获取知识。这种情况甚至闯进了我们的信仰里面来，当我们要求从上帝那里看神迹奇事时，我们便把上帝放在了试探中，我们这么做不是为了想要得到拯救，而单单是喜欢一种体验。

［……］

我的人生充满了这种错误，我唯一的希望就是在你无垠的慈爱中。当我们的心变成储藏室，堆满这种没有价值的货物时，我的祈祷就因此经常被打断和分散。即使在你出现的时候，我们内心的声音也传到了你的耳朵，各种各样的琐碎思想闯进来，并打断祷告的伟大行动。

41

现在我开始思考自己的罪带来的可悲状态，根据诱惑的三种不同情况，我祈求你伸出援助之手拯救我。在我受伤的内心，我看见你了的光辉，这使我眩目。我问：谁可以接近这个荣耀？你的照管将我排除在外。你是掌管万物的真理。但是在我自私的渴望中，我不愿意失去你。与你在一起时，我想撒一个谎言，就像当错误遮蔽一个人的双眼，使他看不到真理时，他不会承认自己明显的错误。这样一来，我失去了你，因为你不会与谎言同在。

42

谁可以让我重归于你？我应该向天使求助吗？但是如果我寻求到了帮助，我应该祷告什么呢？我该使用什么样的圣礼呢？我听说很多人没有力量通过自己回到你那里，就通过这种方式来试一下，但是他们都以渴望奇怪幻象而告终，他们唯一的收获只是妄想。他们试图在所有自负和傲慢的知识中找到你。当他们应该悲痛捶胸顿足时，内心却被骄傲所充满。因为他们在心中聚集一起，他们吸引堕落天使，低空中的王子，他们与骄傲为友并与之联合。但是这种联合捉弄了他们，使用魔幻的技巧，我们所找的是可以洗净他们的罪恶的中保，实际上不是中保，而是化做光明天使的魔鬼。这魔鬼不是血肉的生物，而是对骄傲肉体的强有力的诱惑。他们都是终将要死亡的人和罪人，而你，主啊，你是不朽的和无罪的，他们想与你和解。但是在上帝与人之间的中保必须在某种程度上与神一样，又与人一样。如果在这二者之间，他像人，那么他就会离神太远；如果在二者之间像神，又会离人太远。这两种情况他都无法成为中保。但是因为你隐藏了正义的宣告，你给了魔鬼一个特权来嘲弄那些骄傲的人，他装做一个中保。一方面这个中保像人，他是有罪的。另一方面，他假装像上帝，因为他没有穿着会朽坏的血肉外衣，他试图把自己作为不朽的代表。但是因为罪的工价就是死，他与人一样出于这个原因而会被宣判死亡。

43

但是有一个真正的中保，在你隐秘的怜悯中，你已经把他展现给了人们。你派遣他，让人们通过他的榜样可以学习谦卑。他是神与人的中保，耶稣基督，他是一个人，他出现在人间，在有罪和必死的人与不朽和公义的上帝之间。他像人，所以会死；他像神，所以公义。因为他正义的回报是生命与和平，他的到来是通过他与上帝结合的公义，通过选择去分享他的死亡，使那些被他称义的罪人免于死亡。他被预示给古代的圣人们，让他们可以通过相信他即将来受难而得救。正如同我们因相信他在多年之前为我们受死而得救一样。因为作为人，他是我们的中保，但是作为上帝的圣言，他就不是上帝与人之间的中保，因为他与上帝平等，并与上帝同为上帝，与他一起同为一个上帝。

［……］

我的罪恶和被死亡加重的痛苦让我恐惧，我反复思考自己的问题，并几乎决定要去沙漠中寻求庇护。但是你阻止我这样做，并给我力量说：“他替众人死了，为的是要使活着的人不再为自己活着，却为那替他们死而复活的主而活。”。主啊，我把我所有的烦恼都抛给你，从现在开始我要默想你律法的奥妙。你知道我是多么软弱，我的知识是多么匮乏，教导我并医治我的软弱吧。你的独生子拥有一切知识和智慧，用他的血拯救了我。把我从仇敌的嘲笑中解救出来，我知道救赎的代价。我吃他的肉，饮他的血，并与其他人分享。因为贫乏，我渴望充饥，成为吃饱喝足的人。谁追寻主，谁就会赞美主。

第十一卷

3

让我聆听并理解这些话：起初，你创造了天地。摩西【1】写下这些话。他写下以后就到你那儿去了，留下了这个你对他说话的世界。他从此不在这儿了，我不能与他面对面。但是如果他在这儿，我会缠住他，并以你的名义，我会苦苦地求他为我解释这些话。我会竖起耳朵全神贯注地聆听从他嘴唇发生的所有声音。如果他用希伯来语说，他的话只会穿耳而过，我的大脑里什么也不会留下。如果他说拉丁语，我会知道他说什么。但是，我怎样才能知道他说的是真的呢？如果我也知道，那么我就不用通过他而得到这些知识了。然而在我思想的最深处，真理既不是希伯来文，也不是希腊文、拉丁文或任何外国语言，它仍然会向我说话，虽然不是通过嘴唇和舌头形成的音节来向我说话。它可能会是低语：“他说的是真理”。但是我马上就会确定。我会自信地对你的这个仆人说，“你告诉我的是真理”。

于是，我不再质问摩西，因为你所赐他的话是真的，因为你用你自己的真理充满他。我祈求你，我的上帝，宽恕我的罪，并像赐予你的仆人摩西以恩典说那样的话，来赐予我恩典以理解这些话。

9

他是起初的，上帝啊，在那时你创造了天地。通过这种奇妙的方式，你说话，并在你的话语里、你的儿子——你的力量、你的智慧、你的真理创造了他们。

谁可以理解这个奥秘或是把它解释给其他人呢？这是什么光？这柔和的光不时敲击着我的内心，促使我在敬畏中颤抖，然而也因它们的温暖燃烧我。我颤抖着感觉到我与它的不同：然而迄今为止我却与它相像，我因为他的火光而发亮。这是智慧之光，是智慧本身，时常地照耀着我，驱散笼罩我的阴云。但是当我软弱地远离这光时，这些云就重新在浓密黑暗的笼罩下包裹了我，这是我要承受的惩罚。我的力量因为痛苦而损耗，以至于我不能持续被祝福。因此我将会活着，直到你宽恕了我的罪，并治愈我所有致命的疾病。你会把我从死亡的危险中解救出来，戴上你怜悯祝福的冠冕，满足我美好的愿望，像保存雄鹰的羽毛那样来保留我的青春。我们的拯救建立在某些东西的希望之上，在忍耐中我们等待你应许的实现。让这些能够听你话的人说出心声。我们相信你启示的话语，我要大声地说：“主啊，你创造的是多么五彩缤纷！你创造他们的智慧是多么奇妙！”你创造天地时开始的是智慧，智慧也是开始。

13

一个思想变化无常的人，其思想总会因过去时间的观念迷失，他可能会好奇：你，全能的上帝，万物的创造者和掌管者，天地的造物主，为什么会在你伟大创造工程最后完工之前，空闲着并让无数的时光流逝。我对这些人的忠告是摇醒他们的迷梦并仔细思考，因为他们的惊奇是基于错误的观念。

你是创造者，是所有时间的源头，在你创造时间以前怎么会有无数的时间流逝掉呢？一直存在着的时间不是你创造的吗？如果过去的时间不存在，又怎么能消失呢？

你是所有时间的创造者。如果，在你创造天地之前没有时间，那么怎么能说你在虚度光阴呢？你一定是创造了那个时间，因为时间在被你创造之前，是不会流逝的。

［……］

14

因此正确地说，如果你没有创造什么，就没有时间，因为时间是你所创造的。并且时间不会与你一起永存，因为你永恒不变。否则，如果时间永恒不变，就不是时间了。

［……］

19

你，所有造物的统治者，是用什么方式向人们的心灵揭示未来呢？你曾经向属你的先知们揭示。这未来对我们来说是不存在的，那么现在你是怎样把未来揭示给我们的呢？还是你启示的只是未来事物在目前的征兆？把不存在的事物启示给我们这是完全不可能的。你做这事的方法超出了我们的理解。我没有力量来理解这个奥秘，通过我自己的力量绝不可能。但是在你的力量中，我可以理解，当你给与我恩典来看时，你是我灵魂之眼的甜美之光。

［……］

25

我向你忏悔，主啊，我依然不明白时间到底是什么。而且我忏悔自己不知道在时间中说的是什么，我已经谈论时间有好长时间了，如果实际上时间不是一直在流逝的话，那么这么长的时间就不算长的时间。如果我不知道时间的话，我怎样知道这一点的呢？是我确定知道时间是什么，只是不知道如何用言语来表达我所知道的吗？我处在一种难过的状态中，因为我甚至不知道我到底不知道什么！

［……］

31

哦，主啊，我的上帝，你的神秘是何等的深奥！我的罪恶使得自己被远远地抛开在你安全的天国之外！医治我的双眼并让我在你的光中欢呼雀跃。如果有一颗心灵被赋予这种强大的力量，知道并可以预知所有的过去和将来，就像我熟悉许多赞美诗一样，这颗心灵将会令人惊奇地超越信仰。我们要对此保持敬畏，过去的岁月和将来的时间都瞒不过这颗心灵。这就像我唱赞美诗，我知道自己已经唱了多少，还有多少没有唱，我离开头已经多远了，离结束还有多久。但是，这是不可思议的，宇宙的创造者，灵魂与肉体的创造者，仅仅以这种方式就知道所有的过去和未来。你的知识远远比这更奇妙、更神秘。不像人的知识，只唱一些他熟悉的赞美诗，或是听其他人唱一些他熟悉的赞美诗。当他这样做时，他的情感发生了变化，他的感觉被划分：因为他要一边想未唱的歌词，又要一边还记着他所唱过的。对于你来说绝不是这样，你是永恒的不变，真正永恒的思想创造者。从一开始，你就知道天地，在你的知识中天地没有变化。以同样的方式，在起初你创造了天地，在你的行动中也没有改变。一些人明白这个道理，另些人却不明白：让他们所有的人都赞美你吧！你超越于万物之上，但你又住在谦卑人的心中。因你安慰劳苦重担之人，抬眼仰望你高台的人不会跌倒。

注释

【1】公元前13世纪的犹太人先知，《圣经》旧约前五卷书的作者。

第十二卷

2

我的唇舌向在最高处的你庄严谦卑地忏悔，是你创造了天地，我所看见的天和我脚所踏的地，这塑造了我们身体的大地。是你，创造了这一切。主啊，但是哪里是天外之天？诗篇中说：“天外之天属于上帝，他将大地赐予人的子孙？”我们看不见的天国在哪里？与之相比我们所看见的只是大地，可天国在哪里呢？

［……］

3

毫无疑问，为什么我们说大地是“看不见且没有形状的”，那是没有光线的深渊，原因是大地没有形状。为什么你要写“黑暗统治着深渊”，这唯一的原因就是那里完全没有光。如果有光，除了在其之上，又能在哪里抛洒光辉呢？但既然没有光，黑暗的在场不就是光的缺席吗？因此黑暗统治着一切，因为上面一点光都没有，就好像沉默统治着没有声音的地方。无声的沉默不就是声音的缺席吗？

［……］

4

怎么不用通过熟悉话语，让甚至愚笨的大脑也可以理解呢？在构成这个世界的事物中，能找到什么比“大地”和“深渊”更能描述这种空虚混沌？因为它们处于创造物的最低层，相对高级的事物，有底层事物的美丽形式，光芒四射。为什么我不能假定“大地是无形又没有形式的”这句话，是要传达给人类的呢？而这恰是以一种他们可以理解的方式传达的。你创造不美丽的无形状的事物是为了让这个美丽的世界有形吗？

7

如果它第一次就在那儿，为了做这些可见的、复杂形式的工具，那么它自己的起源是什么？只能把它的出现归结于你，所有的事物在你那里都有起源，不论它们存在的程度如何，虽然它们越不怎么像你，就离你越远——我这里不是说空间。这意味着，主啊，你不会像事物或环境一样改变，而是始终如一，恒久如一，并且一模一样，圣哉、圣哉、圣哉，主啊，全能的上帝，你在最初创造了事物，以你自己的方式，通过你的智慧，这智慧从你的本质而生，并且你从无中创造了有。

你创造了天地，但你并没有用你自己的本质来创造。如果你这样做，它们就会与你独生爱子平等了。对你来说，公义决不会承认你本体以外的本体能与你平等。主啊，除你这位三位一体，一体三位的主，在你之外没有任何东西可以创造天地。因此，你必定是从无之中创造它们，一个是伟大的，一个是渺小的。没有什么是你不能做的。你是善的，所以你所造的都是善的，不管是伟大的天外之天，还是这个渺小的世界。你就是本身，除你以外什么也没有。于是，你从虚无中创造了天地，并将一个与另一个区分开来。一个与你接近，另一个与虚无接近。一个仅仅通过你来超越，另一个仅仅比虚无少一点。

13

主啊，这就是当我读到“起初，上帝创造了天地。地是不可见的，没有形状，黑暗统治着深渊。”这些话时，解释你的《圣经》的方式。《圣经》上没有说你在哪一天创造了它们，但是我理解这个原因，“天”在这里意味着天外之天——那是智力的天国，在那里知识具有优先权，可以立刻知道所有，而不是部分，不像从一个镜子中看到的模糊的反射，而是作为一个整体，是清晰的，是面对面的，不是首先、其次……，就像我刚刚说过的，而是一次认识全部，远远不是时间的起落——而“地”则意味着不可见、无形的，它也不像时间那样由此及彼地变化，因为没有形式就什么也没有。天与地，按我的理解，意味着当《圣经》说“起初，上帝创造天地”时，没有提到日子，天就是天外之天，这天从一开始就被赋与了形式，而地是不可见的，也没有秩序，完全没有形式。实际上《圣经》在下一节经文中解释地就是这个意思。因为它说第二天苍穹被创造，那就叫做天，这给我们理解第一句说的天是指没有提到日子的天。

27

摩西留下的论述，你选择将其传给我们，这论述像泉水一样，内容丰富，因为它在限定的空间里流动。泉水比那没有支流但长度更长的河流流量更大，有更多的支流，并浇灌更多的土地。同样，从摩西之口，发出极为简短但又命定的话为一大群讲道者所用，从我们每个人中涌出真理的清泉，通过更冗长又迂回的短句，推出一个尽可能像他一样的真正的关于创造的解释，一些人会选择这种或那种解释。

［……］

31

因为这个原因，尽管我听见有人说：“摩西的意思是这样的”或“摩西的意思是那样的”，我想更虔诚的说法是：“如果两种观点都是对的，为什么摩西不采用两种呢？如果有人从同一句话中读出了第三种、或是第四种，或是任何一种真正的意思，为什么我们不应该相信摩西读出了所有的意思呢？只有一位上帝使摩西用最适合大多数人的头脑的方式写《圣经》，这些人都可以在里面看见真理，虽然在每一个情形中不是同样的真理。”

就我而言，我坚决地声称并竭尽全力表示，如果要我写一本书，这书被最高权威认可，我宁愿用这种方式来写：一个读者可以在我的话中找到回应，不论他能够理解什么样的真理。我宁愿用这种方式来写，而不是明确地把一种简单的正确意见加在上面，尽管这些意见没有错误，但这会排斥其它意见。如果这是我为自己选择的，我的上帝，我不会这样轻率，好像假定一个像摩西一样伟大的人从你那里仅得到很少的恩赐。当他写这些话时，他完全意识到他们是默许的。他意识到了每个真理，那些我们可以从中推演出的真理，和那些我们尚不能推演但却可能发现的真理。

32

［……］

主啊，我的上帝，仅这些话我就写了这么多！如果我用这种篇幅来评论你的整部《圣经》，我需要多少耐心和时间啊！让我继续把自己的思想用于《圣经》，但是要简短一些。这样就可以让我满足于就给出一个解释，这个解释是被你点拨的，是正确的、确定的、好的，尽管我能知道还会有很多其它的解释。就让我在你面前带着坚定的信念做这样的忏悔，如果我给的解释是与摩西的意思一致，那么我做的就是正确的、最好的。这就是我必须竭尽全力去做的。但是，如果我失败了，我至少要说，通过《圣经》的句子启示的你的真理，是与你愿意启示给摩西的是一样的。

第十三卷

1

我呼求你，上帝，我的怜悯，你创造了我，在我忘记你时，你没有忘记我。我请求你来到我的内心，激发我渴求你，准备我来接纳你。现在，当我呼求你，不要遗弃我，甚至在我呼求你之前你已经来帮助我。以各种各样的方式，一遍又一遍地，当我远离你时，你督促我来听你的声音，把我转向你，并一直亲自呼唤我，让我向你呼求帮助。你抹去我所有的罪恶行迹，为的是不要我遭受自己双手所做的应得的惩罚，这罪使得我远离你。甚至在我做之前，你已经考虑了我值得你赞赏的善行，以便回报你的手创造我之功劳。在我之前，你就存在了：我还未成型，你给了我存在。然而现在我存在了，这是出自你的美意，你提供了要创造怎样的我和创造我所需要的一切。你不需要我，我这个生物没有任何长处可以帮助你，我的主，我的上帝啊。我来服侍你不是由于这会减轻你的疲劳，也不是因为如果没有我的服侍你的能力就会减少。我不能像农民耕种土地那样地服侍你，因为即便我的耕作失败了，你的工作也会结出果实。我只能服待你、敬拜你，以致能得到从你而来的善，若没有你，我就得不到善，因为我甚至不能存在来接受善。

3

在你创造之初，你说“要有光，就有了光”。我想这些话可以被适宜地理解为关于灵魂的创造，因为它已经有某种生命，可以获得你发出的光。但是，正像先前它由于自己的贫乏，它不能向你说什么，于是没有这种生命来接受你的光，现在它既然存在了，它就不能说是因为自己的美德而接受了这一礼物。在这无形的世界状态中，除非它变成光，否则就无法取悦于你。当它变成光后，不仅是简单的存在，而是注视并依附你，你这照耀它的光。它也通过这种方式获得你的恩典，仅仅是你的恩典，所赐于它的存在和所赐的生命就生活在幸福中了。通过经历一种向善的变化，它被转向那不变的，不论是变得更好还是更坏，这变化都是朝向你的。只有你可以不变化，因为只有你是绝对的简单，存在与幸福的存在是一样的，因为你是你自己的至福。

5

当我读到你的圣灵运行在水面上，我模糊地看见你是三位一体的，我的上帝。是你，天父，在最初籍着我们的智慧者创造天地——这智慧是你的智慧，源于你，与你平等，与你永存——这就是，在你的圣子体内。关于天外之天我有很多要说，地是不可见、没有形状的，而深渊显示出灵的创造时是多么黑暗，在其外型的空无中，没有连续性和稳定性。这只有归向你生命本身，才能获得你的荣耀光辉的反射而获得美丽和生命。通过这种方式，天外之天就出现了，天外之天分为水上和水下的。当我说这些事物时，我采用“上帝”一词，上帝创造了它们，即天父在这“起初”里面创造，亦即在圣子里创造。但是，我相信的上帝是三位一体的上帝，我在他的《圣经》神圣的字句中寻找这一真理，并发现《圣经》说你的灵运行在水面上。这里就提到三位一体，我的上帝，圣父、圣子和圣灵，所有被造物的创造者。

11

谁可以理解三位一体的全能之神呢？我们都谈论他，虽然我们可能没有按原来那样地来谈论，因为很少有人在谈论三一神的时候知道自己说什么。人们为之互相争辩，观点不一，但是除非他们在平静中，否则就只能得到一个幻想，什么也没有。

我希望人们考虑三个问题。这三个问题都是在人里面找到的。这问题与三位一体不同，但是我建议他们可把它看为一个头脑训练的习题，我们可以检验自己并认识到这种差异是多么大。这三个问题是：存在、知识和意志，我可以说我是，我知道，我要。我是知道和意志的存在。我知道我是和我要，并且我要存在，也要知道。在这三个里面——存在、知识和意志——有一个不可分割的生命，一个生命，一个思想，一个存在。因此，尽管他们各不不同，这种区别并没有割裂它们。这对于那些有能力理解的人来说并不难。实际上，他需要的不是越过自己来看。让他们近距离地审视自己，估量一下，然后告诉我他发现了什么。

但当他在这三者中发现了一个共同的原则，并告诉我他所发现的，他不能认为自己发现了在这之上永恒不变的本体，这本体永恒不变的存在，永恒不变的知道，永恒不变的意志。因为我们中没有任何人可以轻易地认为上帝是三位一体。因为这所有的三者——永恒不变的存在，永恒不变的知道，永恒不变的意志——都在上帝的里面；不论三者是否在三位一体中的一个位格里面，每一个都是三者重合的；或者不论这些假定是否是真的，在一些奇妙的方式上，即单一又复杂的方式中是一个，虽然上帝是无限的，然而他是自己的结束又是自己本身，因此三位一体在他自己里面，并被他自己所知，又满足自己；那最高的存在，唯一的不变者，存在于无限的统一体中。这是一种神秘，无人能解释，我们中谁又可以断言他可以解释呢？

28

“你看着你所创造的一切，哦上帝，并发现它们非常好。”我们也看见所有这些事物，并知道它们很好。在你每一次的工作中，你首先命令它们被创造，当它们被创造出来之后，你轮流看着每一个事物，并认为它们都是好的。我计算着并发现《圣经》告诉我们七次你看见你所创造的是好的，当你在第八次去看你所有的受造物，我们被告知你发现它们不仅是好，而且是非常好，因为你立即把它们当作整体来看。每个分开的创造都是好的，但当他们被看为一个受造时，他们不仅是好的，他们非常好。

任何美丽的物质事物都可以这样说。一个事物有若干部分，美丽蕴含在每一个部分中，整体的事物比单独的部分更漂亮，这都被恰当地组合并排列，组成一个整体，尽管每一部分就其作为单独的部分来说，本身就是一个美丽的事物。

35

哦，主啊，上帝，赐予我们平安吧，我们所有的一切都是你的馈赠。请赐予我们安宁，安息日的平安，永远没有夜晚的平安。因为这世界的秩序在其所有的美丽中都会过去。当它们的存在达到极限时，所有美好的事物都将结束。它们已经被安排了有它们自己的早晨和夜晚。

37

在那永恒的安息日，你会在我们这里安息，就好像你现在在我们里面工作一样。我们要享受的安息是你的，就好像我们目前所做的工作是你的工作一样，只不过是通过我们来做。但是，主啊，你永远在工作，也永远在休息。你不是通过时间来看，也不是通过时间来运动，也不是在时间里休息：然而你创造了我们在时间中所看见的事物；你创造了时间本身，当时间停止时你就休息了。

38

我们能看见你创造的这些事物，因为它们存在。但是它们仅仅是存在，因为你看见它们。在我们本身之外，我们看见它们存在，并且在我们自身里面，我们看见它们是好的。但是当你看到创造它们是正确的时候，你以同样的方式看见他们被创造。

我们只有一瞬间之后，被激励做善事，即我们的心灵接受到圣灵的激发时，在这之前我们冲动地做坏事，因为那时我们已经离弃了你。但是你，唯一的神，良善的上帝，从来没有停止从善。通过你恩典的馈赠，我们做的一些工作是好的，但不是持久的。在那些之后，当你把我们纳入你伟大的神圣存在时，我们希望可以找到安息。但是你是善本身，除了你自己不需要其它的善。你永远在安息中，因为你是自己的安息。

什么人可以教导其他人明白这个真理呢？什么天使可以教导其他的天使呢？什么天使可以教导人呢？我们必须问你，向你寻求答案。我们必须敲你的门。只有这样我们才可以得到回答，并找到我们要寻求的结果。只有在那时，门才会向我们打开。

St Augustine
Confessions of a Sinner

TRANSLATED BY R. S. PINE-COFFIN

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

英文目录
Contents

Book I

Book II

Book III

Book IV

Book V

Book VI

Book VII

Book VIII

Book IX

Book X

Book XI

Book XII

Book XIII

返回总目录

Book I

1

Can any praise be worthy of the Lord's majesty? How magnificent his strength! How inscrutable his wisdom! Man is one of your creatures, Lord, and his instinct is to praise you. He bears about him the mark of death, the sign of his own sin, to remind him that you thwart the proud. But still, since he is a part of your creation, he wishes to praise you. The thought of you stirs him so deeply that he cannot be content unless he praises you, because you made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you.

[...]

Those who look for the Lord will cry out in praise of him, because all who look for him shall find him, and when they find him they will praise him. I shall look for you, Lord, by praying to you and as I pray I shall believe in you, because we have had preachers to tell us about you. It is my faith that calls to you, Lord, the faith which you gave me and made to live in me through the merits of your Son, who became man, and through the ministry of your preacher.

6

But, dust and ashes though I am, let me appeal to your pity, since it is to you in your mercy that I speak, not to a man, who would simply laugh at me. Perhaps you too may laugh at me, but you will relent and have pity on me. For all I want to tell you, Lord, is that I do not know where I came from when I was born into this life which leads to death - or should I say, this death which leads to life? This much is hidden from me. But, although I do not remember it all myself, I know that when I came into the world all the comforts which your mercy provides were there ready for me. This I was told by my parents, the father who begat me and the mother who conceived me, the two from whose bodies you formed me in the limits of time. So it was that I was given the comfort of woman's milk.

[...]

I do acknowledge you, Lord of heaven and earth, and I praise you for my first beginnings, although I cannot remember them. But you have allowed men to discover these things about themselves by watching other babies, and also to learn much from what women have to tell. I know that I was a living person even at that age, and as I came towards the end of infancy I tried to find signs to convey my feelings to others. Where could such a living creature come from if not from you, O Lord? Can it be that any man has skill to fabricate himself? Or can there be some channel by which we derive our life and our very existence from some other source than you? Surely we can only derive them from our Maker, from you, Lord, to whom living and being are not different things, since infinite life and infinite being are one and the same. For you are infinite and never change. In you 'today' never comes to an end: and yet our 'today' does come to an end in you, because time, as well as everything else, exists in you. If it did not, it would have no means of passing. And since your years never come to an end, for you they are simply 'today'. The countless days of our lives and of our forefathers' lives have passed by within your 'today'. From it they have received their due measure of duration and their very existence. And so it will be with all the other days which are still to come. But you yourself are eternally the same. In your 'today' you will make all that is to exist tomorrow and thereafter, and in your 'today' you have made all that existed yesterday and for ever before.

Need it concern me if some people cannot understand this? Let them ask what it means, and be glad to ask: but they may content themselves with the question alone. For it is better for them to find you and leave the question unanswered than to find the answer without finding you.

7

Hear me, O God! How wicked are the sins of men! Men say this and you pity them, because you made man, but you did not make sin in him.

Who can recall to me the sins I committed as a baby? For in your sight no man is free from sin, not even a child who has lived only one day on earth. Who can show me what my sins were? Some small baby in whom I can see all that I do not remember about myself? What sins, then, did I commit when I was a baby myself? Was it a sin to cry when I wanted to feed at the breast? I am too old now to feed on mother's milk, but if I were to cry for the kind of food suited to my age, others would rightly laugh me to scorn and remonstrate with me. So then too I deserved a scolding for what I did; but since I could not have understood the scolding, it would have been unreasonable, and most unusual, to rebuke me. We root out these faults and discard them as we grow up, and this is proof enough that they are faults, because I have never seen a man purposely throw out the good when he clears away the bad. It can hardly be right for a child, even at that age, to cry for everything, including things which would harm him; to work himself into a tantrum against people older than himself and not required to obey him; and to try his best to strike and hurt others who know better than he does, including his own parents, when they do not give in to him and refuse to pander to whims which would only do him harm. This shows that, if babies are innocent, it is not for lack of will to do harm, but for lack of strength.

[...]

I do not remember that early part of my life, O Lord, but I believe what other people have told me about it and from watching other babies I can conclude that I also lived as they do. But, true though my conclusions may be, I do not like to think of that period as part of the same life I now lead, because it is dim and forgotten and, in this sense, it is no different from the time I spent in my mother's womb. But if I was born in sin and guilt was with me already when my mother conceived me, where, I ask you, Lord, where or when was I, your servant, ever innocent? But I will say no more about that time, for since no trace of it remains in my memory, it need no longer concern me.

9

But, O God my God, I now went through a period of suffering and humiliation. I was told that it was right and proper for me as a boy to pay attention to my teachers, so that I should do well at my study of grammar and get on in the world. This was the way to gain the respect of others and win for myself what passes for wealth in this world. So I was sent to school to learn to read. I was too small to understand what purpose it might serve and yet, if I was idle at my studies, I was beaten for it, because beating was favoured by tradition. Countless boys long since forgotten had built up this stony path for us to tread and we were made to pass along it, adding to the toil and sorrow of the sons of Adam.

But we found that some men prayed to you, Lord, and we learned from them to do the same, thinking of you in the only way that we could understand, as some great person who could listen to us and help us, even though we could not see you or hear you or touch you. I was still a boy when I first began to pray to you, my Help and Refuge. I used to prattle away to you, and though I was small, my devotion was great when I begged you not to let me be beaten at school. Sometimes, for my own good, you did not grant my prayer, and then my elders and even my parents, who certainly wished me no harm, would laugh at the beating I got - and in those days beatings were my one great bugbear.

[...]

11

While still a boy I had been told of the eternal life promised to us by Our Lord, who humbled himself and came down amongst us proud sinners. As a catechumen, I was blessed regularly from birth with the sign of the Cross and was seasoned with God's salt, for, O Lord, my mother placed great hope in you. Once as a child I was taken suddenly ill with a disorder of the stomach and was on the point of death. You, my God, were my guardian even then, and you saw the fervour and strength of my faith as I appealled to the piety of my own mother and to the mother of us all, your Church, to give me the baptism of Christ your Son, who is my God and my Master. My earthly mother was deeply anxious, because in the pure faith of her heart, she was in greater labour to ensure my eternal salvation than she had been at my birth. Had I not quickly recovered, she would have hastened to see that I was admitted to the sacraments of salvation and washed clean by acknowledging you, Lord Jesus, for the pardon of my sins. So my washing in the waters of baptism was postponed, in the surmise that, if I continued to live, I should defile myself again with sin and, after baptism, the guilt of pollution would be greater and more dangerous. Even at that age I already believed in you, and so did my mother and the whole household except for my father. But, in my heart, he did not gain the better of my mother's piety and prevent me from believing in Christ just because he still disbelieved himself. For she did all that she could to see that you, my God, should be a Father to me rather than he. In this you helped her to turn the scales against her husband, whom she always obeyed because by obeying him she obeyed your law, thereby showing greater virtue than he did.

I ask you, my God - for, if it is your will, I long to know - for what purpose was my baptism postponed at that time? Was it for my good that the reins which held me from sin were slackened? Or is it untrue that they were slackened? If not, why do we continually hear people say, even nowadays, 'Leave him alone and let him do it. He is not yet baptized'? Yet when the health of the body is at stake, no one says 'Let him get worse. He is not yet cured.' It would, then, have been much better if I had been healed at once and if all that I and my family could do had been done to make sure that once my soul had received its salvation, its safety should be left in your keeping, since its salvation had come from you. This would surely have been the better course. But my mother well knew how many great tides of temptation threatened me before I grew up, and she chose to let them beat upon the as yet unmoulded clay rather than upon the finished image which had received the stamp of baptism.

17

Let me tell you, my God, how I squandered the brains you gave me on foolish delusions. I was set a task which troubled me greatly, for if I were successful, I might win some praise: if not, I was afraid of disgrace or a beating. I had to recite the speech of Juno, who was pained and angry because she could not prevent Aeneas from sailing to Italy. I had been told that Juno had never really spoken the words, but we were compelled to make believe and follow the flight of the poet's fancy by repeating in prose what he had said in verse. The contest was to be won by the boy who found the best words to suit the meaning and best expressed feelings of sorrow and anger appropriate to the majesty of the character he impersonated.

What did all this matter to me, my God, my true Life? Why did my recitation win more praise than those of the many other boys in my class? Surely it was all so much smoke without fire? Was there no other subject on which I might have sharpened my wits and my tongue? I might have used them, O Lord, to praise you in the words of your Scriptures, which could have been a prop to support my heart, as if it were a young vine, so that it would not have produced this crop of worthless fruit, fit only for the birds to peck at. For offerings can be made to those birds of prey, the fallen angels, in more ways than one.

19

It was at the threshold of a world such as this that I stood in peril as a boy. I was already being prepared for its tournaments by a training which taught me to have a horror of faulty grammar instead of teaching me, when I committed these faults, not to envy others who avoided them. All this, my God, I admit and confess to you. By these means I won praise from the people whose favour I sought, for I thought that the right way to live was to do as they wished. I was blind to the whirlpool of debasement in which I had been plunged away from the sight of your eyes. For in your eyes nothing could be more debased than I was then, since I was even troublesome to the people whom I set out to please. Many and many a time I lied to my tutor, my masters, and my parents, and deceived them because I wanted to play games or watch some futile show or was impatient to imitate what I saw on the stage. I even stole from my parents' larder and from their table, either from greed or to get something to give to other boys in exchange for their favourite toys, which they were willing to barter with me. And in the games I played with them I often cheated in order to come off the better, simply because a vain desire to win had got the better of me. And yet there was nothing I could less easily endure, nothing that made me quarrel more bitterly, than to find others cheating me as I cheated them. All the same, if they found me out and blamed me for it, I would lose my temper rather than give in.

Can this be the innocence of childhood? Far from it, O Lord! But I beg you to forgive it. For commanders and kings may take the place of tutors and schoolmasters, nuts and balls and pet birds may give way to money and estates and servants, but these same passions remain with us while one stage of life follows upon another, just as more severe punishments follow upon the school-master's cane. It was, then, simply because they are small that you used children to symbolize humility when, as our King, you commended it by saying that the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.

20

And yet, Lord, even if you had willed that I should not survive my childhood, I should have owed you gratitude, because you are our God, the supreme Good, the Creator and Ruler of the universe. For even as a child I existed, I was alive, I had the power of feeling; I had an instinct to keep myself safe and sound, to preserve my own being, which was a trace of the single unseen Being from whom it was derived; I had an inner sense which watched over my bodily senses and kept them in full vigour; and even in the small things which occupied my thoughts I found pleasure in the truth. I disliked finding myself in the wrong; my memory was good; I was acquiring the command of words; I enjoyed the company of friends; and I shrank from pain, ignorance, and sorrow. Should I not be grateful that so small a creature possessed such wonderful qualities? But they were all gifts from God, for I did not give them to myself. His gifts are good and the sum of them all is my own self. Therefore, the God who made me must be good and all the good in me is his. I thank him and praise him for all the good in my life, even my life as a boy. But my sin was this, that I looked for pleasure, beauty, and truth not in him but in myself and his other creatures, and the search led me instead to pain, confusion, and error. My God, in whom is my delight, my glory, and my trust, I thank you for your gifts and beg you to preserve and keep them for me. Keep me, too, and so your gifts will grow and reach perfection and I shall be with you myself, for I should not even exist if it were not by your gift.

Book II

1

I must now carry my thoughts back to the abominable things I did in those days, the sins of the flesh which defiled my soul. I do this, my God, not because I love those sins, but so that I may love you. For love of your love I shall retrace my wicked ways. The memory is bitter, but it will help me to savour your sweetness, the sweetness that does not deceive but brings real joy and never fails. For love of your love I shall retrieve myself from the havoc of disruption which tore me to pieces when I turned away from you, whom alone I should have sought, and lost myself instead on many a different quest. For as I grew to manhood I was inflamed with desire for a surfeit of hell's pleasures. Foolhardy as I was, I ran wild with lust that was manifold and rank. In your eyes my beauty vanished and I was foul to the core, yet I was pleased with my own condition and anxious to be pleasing in the eyes of men.

2

I cared for nothing but to love and be loved. But my love went beyond the affection of one mind for another, beyond the arc of the bright beam of friendship. Bodily desire, like a morass, and adolescent sex welling up within me exuded mists which clouded over and obscured my heart, so that I could not distinguish the clear light of true love from the murk of lust. Love and lust together seethed within me. In my tender youth they swept me away over the precipice of my body's appetites and plunged me in the whirlpool of sin. More and more I angered you, unawares. For I had been deafened by the clank of my chains, the fetters of the death which was my due to punish the pride in my soul. I strayed still farther from you and you did not restrain me. I was tossed and spilled, floundering in the broiling sea of my fornication, and you said no word. How long it was before I learned that you were my true joy! You were silent then, and I went on my way, farther and farther from you, proud in my distress and restless in fatigue, sowing more and more seeds whose only crop was grief.

[...]

3

In the same year my studies were interrupted. I had already begun to go to the near-by town of Madaura to study literature and the art of public speaking, but I was brought back home while my father, a modest citizen of Thagaste whose determination was greater than his means, saved up the money to send me farther afield to Carthage. I need not tell all this to you, my God, but in your presence I tell it to my own kind, to those other men, however few, who may perhaps pick up this book. And I tell it so that I and all who read my words may realize the depths from which we are to cry to you. Your ears will surely listen to the cry of a penitent heart which lives the life of faith.

[...]

4

It is certain, O Lord, that theft is punished by your law, the law that is written in men's hearts and cannot be erased however sinful they are. For no thief can bear that another thief should steal from him, even if he is rich and the other is driven to it by want. Yet I was willing to steal, and steal I did, although I was not compelled by any lack, unless it were the lack of a sense of justice or a distaste for what was right and a greedy love of doing wrong. For of what I stole I already had plenty, and much better at that, and I had no wish to enjoy the things I coveted by stealing, but only to enjoy the theft itself and the sin. There was a pear-tree near our vineyard, loaded with fruit that was attractive neither to look at nor to taste. Late one night a band of ruffians, myself included, went off to shake down the fruit and carry it away, for we had continued our games out of doors until well after dark, as was our pernicious habit. We took away an enormous quantity of pears, not to eat them ourselves, but simply to throw them to the pigs. Perhaps we ate some of them, but our real pleasure consisted in doing something that was forbidden.

[...]

6

If the crime of theft which I committed that night as a boy of sixteen were a living thing, I could speak to it and ask what it was that, to my shame, I loved in it. I had no beauty because it was a robbery. It is true that the pears which we stole had beauty, because they were created by you, the good God, who are the most beautiful of all beings and the Creator of all things, the supreme Good and my own true Good. But it was not the pears that my unhappy soul desired. I had plenty of my own, better than those, and I only picked them so that I might steal. For no sooner had I picked them than I threw them away, and tasted nothing in them but my own sin, which I relished and enjoyed. If any part of one of those pears passed my lips, it was the sin that gave it flavour.

[...]

What was it, then, that pleased me in that act of theft? Which of my Lord's powers did I imitate in a perverse and wicked way? Since I had no real power to break his law, was it that I enjoyed at least the pretence of doing so, like a prisoner who creates for himself the illusion of liberty by doing something wrong, when he has no fear of punishment, under a feeble hallucination of power? Here was the slave who ran away from his master and chased a shadow instead! What an abomination! What a parody of life! What abysmal death! Could I enjoy doing wrong for no other reason than that it was wrong?

Book III

1

I went to Carthage, where I found myself in the midst of a hissing cauldron of lust. I had not yet fallen in love, but I was in love with the idea of it, and this feeling that something was missing made me despise myself for not being more anxious to satisfy the need. I began to look around for some object for my love, since I badly wanted to love something. I had no liking for the safe path without pitfalls, for although my real need was for you, my God, who are the food of the soul, I was not aware of this hunger. I felt no need for the food that does not perish, not because I had had my fill of it, but because the more I was starved of it the less palatable it seemed. Because of this my soul fell sick. It broke out in ulcers and looked about desperately for some material, worldly means of relieving the itch which they caused. But material things, which have no soul, could not be true objects for my love. To love and to have my love returned was my heart's desire, and it would be all the sweeter if I could also enjoy the body of the one who loved me.

[...]

3

Yet all the while, far above, your mercy hovered faithfully about me. I exhausted myself in depravity, in the pursuit of an unholy curiosity. I deserted you and sank to the bottom-most depths of scepticism and the mockery of devil-worship. My sins were a sacrifice to the devil, and for all of them you chastised me. I defied you even so far as to relish the thought of lust, and gratify it too, within the walls of your church during the celebration of your mysteries. For such a deed I deserved to pluck the fruit of death, and you punished me for it with a heavy lash. But, compared with my guilt, the penalty was nothing. How infinite is your mercy, my God! You are my Refuge from the terrible dangers amongst which I wandered, head on high, intent upon withdrawing still further from you. I loved my own way, not yours, but it was a truant's freedom that I loved.

Besides these pursuits I was also studying for the law. Such ambition was held to be honourable and I determined to succeed in it. The more unscrupulous I was, the greater my reputation was likely to be, for men are so blind that they even take pride in their blindness. By now I was at the top of the school of rhetoric. I was pleased with my superior status and swollen with conceit. All the same, as you well know, Lord, I behaved far more quietly than the 'Wreckers', a title of ferocious devilry which the fashionable set chose for themselves. I had nothing whatever to do with their outbursts of violence, but I lived amongst them, feeling a perverse sense of shame because I was not like them. I kept company with them and there were times when I found their friendship a pleasure, but I always had a horror of what they did when they lived up to their name. Without provocation they would set upon some timid newcomer, gratuitously affronting his sense of decency for their own amusement and using it as fodder for their spiteful jests. This was the devil's own behaviour or not far different. 'Wreckers' was a fit name for them, for they were already adrift and total wrecks themselves. The mockery and trickery which they loved to practise on others was a secret snare of the devil, by which they were mocked and tricked themselves.

4

These were the companions with whom I studied the art of eloquence at that impressionable age. It was my ambition to be a good speaker, for the unhallowed and inane purpose of gratifying human vanity. The prescribed course of study brought me to a work by an author named Cicero, whose writing nearly everyone admires, if not the spirit of it. The title of the book is Hortensius and it recommends the reader to study philosophy. It altered my outlook on life. It changed my prayers to you, O Lord, and provided me with new hopes and aspirations. All my empty dreams suddenly lost their charm and my heart began to throb with a bewildering passion for the wisdom of eternal truth. I began to climb out of the depths to which I had sunk, in order to return to you. For I did not use the book as a whetstone to sharpen my tongue. It was not the style of it but the contents which won me over, and yet the allowance which my mother paid me was supposed to be spent on putting an edge on my tongue. I was now in my nineteenth year and she supported me, because my father had died two years before.

[...]

But, O Light of my heart, you know that at that time, although Paul's words were not known to me, the only thing that pleased me in Cicero's book was his advice not simply to admire one or another of the schools of philosophy, but to love wisdom itself, whatever it might be, and to search for it, pursue it, hold it, and embrace it firmly. These were the words which excited me and set me burning with fire, and the only check to this blaze of enthusiasm was that they made no mention of the name of Christ. For by your mercy, Lord, from the time when my mother fed me at the breast my infant heart had been suckled dutifully on his name, the name of your Son, my Saviour. Deep inside my heart his name remained, and nothing could entirely captivate me, however learned, however neatly expressed, however true it might be, unless his name were in it.

5

So I made up my mind to examine the holy Scriptures and see what kind of books they were. I discovered something that was at once beyond the understanding of the proud and hidden from the eyes of children. Its gait was humble, but the heights it reached were sublime. It was enfolded in mysteries, and I was not the kind of man to enter into it or bow my head to follow where it led. But these were not the feelings I had when I first read the Scriptures. To me they seemed quite unworthy of comparison with the stately prose of Cicero, because I had too much conceit to accept their simplicity and not enough insight to penetrate their depths. It is surely true that as the child grows these books grow with him. But I was too proud to call myself a child. I was inflated with self-esteem, which made me think myself a great man.

11

But you sent down your help from above and rescued my soul from the depths of this darkness because my mother, your faithful servant, wept to you for me, shedding more tears for my spiritual death than other mothers shed for the bodily death of a son. For in her faith and in the spirit which she had from you she looked on me as dead. You heard her and did not despise the tears which streamed down and watered the earth in every place where she bowed her head in prayer. You heard her, for how else can I explain the dream with which you consoled her, so that she agreed to live with me and eat at the same table in our home? Lately she had refused to do this, because she loathed and shunned the blasphemy of my false beliefs.

She dreamed that she was standing on a wooden rule, and coming towards her in a halo of splendour she saw a young man who smiled at her in joy, although she herself was sad and quite consumed with grief. He asked her the reason for her sorrow and her daily tears, not because he did not know, but because he had something to tell her, for this is what happens in visions. When she replied that her tears were for the soul I had lost, he told her to take heart for, if she looked carefully, she would see that where she was, there also was I. And when she looked, she saw me standing beside her on the same rule.

Where could this dream have come from, unless it was that you listened to the prayer of her heart? For your goodness is almighty; you take good care of each of us as if you had no others in your care, and you look after all as you look after each. And surely it was for the same reason that, when she told me of the dream and I tried to interpret it as a message that she need not despair of being one day such as I was then, she said at once and without hesitation 'No! He did not say "Where he is, you are", but "Where you are, he is".'

[...]

12

I remember that in the meantime you gave her another answer to her prayers, though there is much besides this that escapes my memory and much too that I must omit, because I am in haste to pass on to other things, which I am more anxious to confess to you.

This other answer you gave her through the mouth of one of your priests, a bishop who had lived his life in the Church and was well versed in the Scriptures. My mother asked him, as a favour, to have a talk with me, so that he might refute my errors, drive the evil out of my mind, and replace it with good. He often did this when he found suitable pupils, but he refused to do it for me - a wise decision, as I afterwards realized. He told her that I was still unripe for instruction because, as she had told him, I was brimming over with the novelty of the heresy and had already upset a great many simple people with my casuistry. 'Leave him alone', he said. 'Just pray to God for him. From his own reading he will discover his mistakes and the depth of his profanity.'

At the same time he told her that when he was a child his misguided mother had handed him over to the Manichees. He had not only read almost all their books, but had also made copies of them, and even though no one argued the case with him or put him right, he had seen for himself that he ought to have nothing to do with the sect; and accordingly he had left it. Even after she had heard this my mother still would not be pacified, but persisted all the more with her tears and her entreaties that he should see me and discuss the matter. At last he grew impatient and said 'Leave me and go in peace. It cannot be that the son of these tears should be lost.'

In later years, as we talked together, she used to say that she accepted these words as a message from heaven.

Book IV

1

During the space of those nine years, from the nineteenth to the twenty-eighth year of my life, I was led astray myself and led others astray in my turn. We were alike deceivers and deceived in all our different aims and ambitions, both publicly when we expounded our so-called liberal ideas, and in private through our service to what we called religion. In public we were cocksure, in private superstitious, and everywhere void and empty. On the one hand we would hunt for worthless popular distinctions, the applause of an audience, prizes for poetry, or quickly fading wreaths won in competition. We loved the idle pastimes of the stage and in selfindulgence we were unrestrained. On the other hand we aspired to be purged of these lowly pleasures by taking food to the holy elect, as they were called, so that in their paunches it might pass through the process of being made into angels and gods who would set us free. These were the objects I pursued and the tasks I performed together with friends who, like myself and through my fault, were under the same delusion.

[...]

2

During those years I was a teacher of the art of public speaking. Love of money had gained the better of me and for it I sold to others the means of coming off the better in debate. But you know, Lord, that I preferred to have honest pupils, in so far as honesty has any meaning nowadays, and I had no evil intent when I taught the tricks of pleading, for I never meant them to be used to get the innocent condemned but, if the occasion arose, to save the lives of the guilty. From a distance, my God, you saw me losing my foothold on this treacherous ground, but through clouds of smoke you also saw a spark of good faith in me; for though, as I schooled my pupils, I was merely abetting their futile designs and their schemes of duplicity, nevertheless I did my best to teach them honestly.

In those days I lived with a woman, not my lawful wedded wife but a mistress whom I had chosen for no special reason but that my restless passions had alighted on her. But she was the only one and I was faithful to her. Living with her I found out by my own experience the difference between the restraint of the marriage alliance, contracted for the purpose of having children, and a bargain struck for lust, in which the birth of children is begrudged, though, if they come, we cannot help but love them.

[...]

12

If the things of this world delight you, praise God for them but turn your love away from them and give it to their Maker, so that in the things that please you you may not displease him. If your delight is in souls, love them in God, because they too are frail and stand firm only when they cling to him. If they do not, they go their own way and are lost. Love them, then, in him and draw as many with you to him as you can. Tell them 'He is the one we should love. He made the world and he stays close to it.' For when he made the world he did not go away and leave it. By him it was created and in him it exists. Wherever we taste the truth, God is there. He is in our very inmost hearts, but our hearts have strayed from him. Think well on it, unbelieving hearts and cling to him who made you. Stand with him and you shall not fall; rest in him and peace shall be yours. What snags and pitfalls lie before you? Where do your steps lead you? The good things which you love are all from God, but they are good and sweet only as long as they are used to do his will. They will rightly turn bitter if God is spurned and the things that come from him are wrongly loved. Why do you still choose to travel by this hard and arduous path? There is no rest to be found where you seek it. In the land of death you try to find a happy life: it is not there. How can life be happy where there is no life at all?

Our Life himself came down into this world and took away our death. He slew it with his own abounding life, and with thunder in his voice he called us from this world to return to him in heaven. From heaven he came down to us, entering first the Virgin's womb, where humanity, our mortal flesh, was wedded to him so that it might not be for ever mortal. Then as a bridegroom coming from his bed, he exulted like some great runner who sees the track before him. He did not linger on his way but ran, calling us to return to him, calling us by his words and deeds, by his life and death, by his descent into hell and his ascension into heaven. He departed from our sight, so that we should turn to our hearts and find him there. He departed, but he is here with us. He would not stay long with us, but he did not leave us. He went back to the place which he had never left, because he, through whom the world was made, was in the world and he came into the world to save sinners. To him my soul confesses and he is its Healer, because the wrong it did was against him. Great ones of the world, will your hearts always be hardened? Your Life has come down from heaven: will you not now at last rise with him and live? But how can you rise if you are in high places and your clamour reaches heaven? Come down from those heights, for then you may climb and, this time, climb to God. To climb against him was your fall.

[...]

13

I did not know this then. I was in love with beauty of a lower order and it was dragging me down. I used to ask my friends 'Do we love anything unless it is beautiful? What, then, is beauty and in what does it consist? What is it that attracts us and wins us over to the things we love? Unless there were beauty and grace in them, they would be powerless to win our hearts.' When I looked at things, it struck me that there was a difference between the beauty of an object considered by itself as one whole and the beauty to be found in a proper proportion between separate things, such as the due balance between the whole of the body and any of its limbs, or between the foot and the shoe with which it is shod, and so on. This idea burst from my heart like water from a spring. My mind was full of it and I wrote a book called Beauty and Proportion, in two or three volumes as far as I remember. You know how many there were, O Lord. I have forgotten, because by some chance the book was lost and I no longer have it.

14

O Lord, my God, what induced me to dedicate my book to Hierius, the great public speaker at Rome? I had never even seen him, but I admired his brilliant reputation for learning and had been greatly struck by what I had heard of his speeches. Even more than this I was impressed by the admiration which other people had for him. They overwhelmed him with praise, because it seemed extraordinary that a man born in Syria and originally trained to speak in Greek had later become so remarkable a speaker in Latin, and had also such a wealth of knowledge of the subjects studied by philosophers.

We can admire persons whom we have never seen, if we hear them praised, though this does not mean that simply to hear their praises will make us admire them. But enthusiasm in one man will kindle the same fire in another, for we admire the person whose praises we hear only if we believe that they are sincerely uttered - in other words that the person who utters them genuinely admires the man whom he praises.

[...]

But Hierius was the kind of man in whom I admired qualities that I would have been glad to possess. In my pride I was running adrift, at the mercy of every wind. You were guiding me as a helmsman steers a ship, but the course you steered was beyond my understanding. I know now, and confess it as the truth, that I admired Hierius more because others praised him than for the accomplishments for which they praised him. I know this because those same people, instead of praising him, might have abused him. They might have spoken of the same talents in him but found fault with them and despised them. If they had done this, my feelings would not have been aroused nor my admiration kindled. Yet his qualities would have been the same and he himself would have been no different. The only difference would have been in their attitude towards him.

We can see from this that the soul is weak and helpless unless it clings to the firm rock of truth. Men give voice to their opinions, but they are only opinions, like so many puffs of wind that waft the soul hither and thither and make it veer and turn. The light is clouded over and the truth cannot be seen, although it is there before our eyes. I thought it a matter of much importance to myself to bring my book and the work I had done to the notice of this great man. If he had approved of them, my fervour would have been all the more ardent. If he had found fault, my heart, which was empty and bereft of God's firm truth, would have suffered a cruel blow. Yet I found pleasure in giving my mind to the problem of beauty and proportion, the work which I had dedicated to him. Although I found no others to admire it, I was proud of it myself.

15

[...]

I was struggling to reach you, but you thrust me back so that I knew the taste of death. For you thwart the proud. And what greater pride could there be than to assert, as I did in my strange madness, that by nature I was what you are? I was changeable, and I knew it; for if I wanted to be a learned man, it could only mean that I wanted to be better than I was. All the same I preferred to think that you too were changeable rather than suppose that I was not what you are. This was why you thrust me back and crushed my rearing pride, while my imagination continued to play on material forms. Myself a man of flesh and blood I blamed the flesh. I was as fickle as a breath of wind, unable to return to you. I drifted on, making my way towards things that had no existence in you or in myself or in the body. They were not created for me by your truth but were the inventions of my own foolish imagination working on material things. Though I did not know it, I was in exile from my place in God's city among his faithful children, my fellow citizens. But I was all words, and stupidly I used to ask them, 'If, as you say, God made the soul, why does it err?' Yet I did not like them to ask me in return, 'If what you say is true, why does God err?' So I used to argue that your unchangeable substance, my God, was forced to err, rather than admit that my own was changeable and erred of its own free will, and that its errors were my punishment.

[...]

16

When I was only about twenty years of age Aristotle's book on the 'Ten Categories' came into my hands. Whenever my teacher at Carthage and others who were reputed to be scholars mentioned this book, their cheeks would swell with self-importance, so that the title alone was enough to make me stand agape, as though I were poised over some wonderful divine mystery. I managed to read it and understand it without help, though I now ask myself what advantage I gained from doing so. Other people told me that they had understood it only with difficulty, after the most learned masters had not only explained it to them but also illustrated it with a wealth of diagrams. But when I discussed it with them, I found that they could tell me no more about it than I had already discovered by reading it on my own.

[...]

I read and understood by myself all the books that I could find on the so-called liberal arts, for in those days I was a good-for-nothing and a slave to sordid ambitions. But what advantage did I gain from them? I read them with pleasure, but I did not know the real source of such true and certain facts as they contained. I had my back to the light and my face was turned towards the things which it illumined, so that my eyes, by which I saw the things which stood in the light, were themselves in darkness. Without great difficulty and without need of a teacher I understood all that I read on the arts of rhetoric and logic, on geometry, music, and mathematics. You know this, O Lord my God, because if a man is quick to understand and his perception is keen, he has these gifts from you. But since I made no offering of them to you, it did me more harm than good to struggle to keep in my own power so large a part of what you had given to me and, instead of preserving my strength for you, to leave you and go to a far country to squander your gifts on loves that sold themselves for money. For what good to me was my ability, if I did not use it well? And ability I had, for until I tried to instruct others I did not realize that these subjects are very difficult to master, even for pupils who are studious and intelligent, and a student who could follow my instruction without faltering was reckoned a very fine scholar.

But what value did I gain from my reading as long as I thought that you, Lord God who are the Truth, were a bright, unbounded body and I a small piece broken from it? What utter distortion of the truth! Yet this was my belief; and I do not now blush to acknowledge, my God, the mercies you have shown to me, nor to call you to my aid, just as in those days I did not blush to declare my blasphemies aloud and snarl at you like a dog. What, then, was the value to me of my intelligence, which could take these subjects in its stride, and all those books, with their tangled problems, which I unravelled without the help of any human tutor, when in the doctrine of your love I was lost in the most hideous error and the vilest sacrilege? And was it so great a drawback to your faithful children that they were slower than I to understand such things? For they did not forsake you, but grew like fledglings in the safe nest of your Church, nourishing the wings of charity on the food of the faith that would save them.

O Lord our God, let the shelter of your wings give us hope. Protect us and uphold us. You will be the Support that upholds us from childhood till the hair on our heads is grey. When you are our strength we are strong, but when our strength is our own we are weak. In you our good abides for ever, and when we turn away from it we turn to evil. Let us come home at last to you, O Lord, for fear that we be lost. For in you our good abides and it has no blemish, since it is yourself. Nor do we fear that there is no home to which we can return. We fell from it; but our home is your eternity and it does not fall because we are away.

Book V

1

Accept my confessions, O Lord. They are a sacrifice offered by my tongue, for yours was the hand that fashioned it and yours the spirit that moved it to acknowledge you. Heal all my bones and let them say Lord, there is none like you.

If a man confesses to you, he does not reveal his inmost thoughts to you as though you did not know them. For the heart may shut itself away, but it cannot hide from your sight. Man's heart may be hard, but it cannot resist the touch of your hand. Whenever you will, your mercy or your punishment can make it relent, and just as none can hide away from the sun, none can escape your burning heat.

Let my soul praise you, so that it may show its love; and let it make avowal of your mercies, so that for these it may praise you. No part of your creation ever ceases to resound in praise of you. Man turns his lips to you in prayer and his spirit praises you. Animals too and lifeless things as well praise you through the lips of all who give them thought. For our souls lean for support upon the things which you have created, so that we may be lifted up to you from our weakness and use them to help us on our way to you who made them all so wonderfully. And in you we are remade and find true strength.

3

In the sight of my God I will describe the twenty-ninth year of my age.

A Manichean bishop named Faustus had recently arrived at Carthage. He was a great decoy of the devil and many people were trapped by his charming manner of speech. This I certainly admired, but I was beginning to distinguish between mere eloquence and the real truth, which I was so eager to learn. The Manichees talked so much about this man Faustus that I wanted to see what scholarly fare he would lay before me, and I did not care what words he used to garnish the dish. I had already heard that he was very well versed in all the higher forms of learning and particularly in the liberal sciences.

I had read a great many scientific books which were still alive in my memory. When I compared them with the tedious tales of the Manichees, it seemed to me that, of the two, the theories of the scientists were the more likely to be true. For their thoughts could reach far enough to form a judgement about the world around them, though they found no trace of him who is Master of it. You, Lord, who are so high above us, yet look with favour on the humble, look on the proud too, but from far off. You come close only to men who are humble at heart. The proud cannot find you, even though by dint of study they have skill to number stars and grains of sand, to measure the tracts of constellations and trace the paths of planets.

[...]

6

For almost the whole of those nine years during which my mind was unsettled and I was an aspirant of the Manichees, I awaited the coming of this man Faustus with the keenest expectation. Other members of the sect whom I happened to meet were unable to answer the questions I raised upon these subjects, but they assured me that once Faustus had arrived I had only to discuss them with him and he would have no difficulty in giving me a clear explanation of my queries and any other more difficult problems which I might put forward.

[...]

My long and eager expectation of Faustus's arrival was amply rewarded by the way in which he set about the task of disputation and the goodwill that he showed. The ease with which he found the right words to clothe his thoughts delighted me, and I was not the only one to applaud it, though perhaps I did so more than most. But I found it tiresome, when so many people assembled to hear him, not to be allowed to approach him with my difficulties and lay them before him in the friendly give-and-take of conversation. As soon as the opportunity arose I and some of my friends claimed his attention at a time when a private discussion would not be inappropriate. I mentioned some of my doubts, but soon discovered that except for a rudimentary knowledge of literature he had no claims to scholarship. He had read some of Cicero's speeches, one or two books of Seneca, some poetry, and such books as had been written in good Latin by members of his sect. Besides his daily practice as a speaker, this reading was the basis of his eloquence, which derived extra charm and plausibility from his attractive personality and his ability to make good use of his mental powers.

[...]

7

As soon as it became clear to me that Faustus was quite uninformed about the subjects in which I had expected him to be an expert, I began to lose hope that he could lift the veil and resolve the problems which perplexed me. Of course, despite his ignorance of these matters he might still have been a truly pious man, provided he were not a Manichee. The Manichean books are full of the most tedious fictions about the sky and the stars, the sun and the moon. I badly wanted Faustus to compare these with the mathematical calculations which I had studied in other books, so that I might judge whether the Manichean theories were more likely to be true or, at least, equally probable, but I now began to realize that he could not give me a detailed explanation. When I suggested that we should consider these problems and discuss them together, he was certainly modest enough not to undertake the task. He knew that he did not know the answers to my questions and was not ashamed to admit it, for unlike many other talkative people whom I have had to endure, he would not try to teach me a lesson when he had nothing to say. He had a heart, and though his approach to you was mistaken, he was not without discretion. He was not entirely unaware of his limitations and did not want to enter rashly into an argument which might force him into a position which he could not possibly maintain and from which he could not easily withdraw. I liked him all the better for this, because modesty and candour are finer equipment for the mind than scientific knowledge of the kind that I wished to possess. I found that his attitude towards all the more difficult and abstruse questions was the same.

[...]

So it was that, unwittingly and without intent, Faustus who had been a deadly snare to many now began to release me from the trap in which I had been caught. For in the mystery of your providence, my God, your guiding hand did not desert me. Night and day my mother poured out her tears to you and offered her heart-blood in sacrifice for me, and in the most wonderful way you guided me. It was you who guided me, my God, for man's feet stand firm, if the Lord is with him to prosper his journey. What else can save us but your hand, remaking what you have made?

8

It was, then, by your guidance that I was persuaded to go to Rome and teach there the subjects which I taught at Carthage.

[...]

9

At Rome I was at once struck down by illness, which all but carried me off to hell loaded with all the evil that I had committed against you, against myself, and against other men, a host of grave offences over and above the bond of original sin, by which we all have died with Adam. You had not yet forgiven me any of these sins in Christ nor, on his cross, had he dissolved the enmity which my sins had earned me in your sight. How could he dissolve it on the cross if he were a mere phantom, as I believed? In so far, then, as I thought the death of his body unreal, the death of my own soul was real; and the life of my soul, because it doubted his death, was as false as the death of his flesh was true.

[...]

If I had died in that state, my mother's heart would never have recovered from the blow. Words cannot describe how dearly she loved me or how much greater was the anxiety she suffered for my spiritual birth than the physical pain she had endured in bringing me into the world. I cannot see how she could ever have recovered if I had died in that condition, for my death would have pierced the very heart of her love. And what would have become of all the fervent prayers which she offered so often and without fail? They would have come to you, nowhere but to you. But would you, O God of mercy, have despised the contrite and humble heart of that chaste and gentle widow, so ready to give alms, so full of humble reverence for your saints, who never let a day go by unless she had brought an offering to your altar, and never failed to come to your church twice every day, each morning and night, not to listen to empty tales and old wives' gossip, but so that she might hear the preaching of your word and you might listen to her prayers? Could you deny your help to her, when it was by your grace that she was what she was, or despise her tears, when she asked not for gold or silver or any fleeting, short-lived favour, but that the soul of her son might be saved? Never would you have done this, O Lord. No, you were there to hear her prayer and do all, in due order, as you had determined it was to be done. It could not be that you would have deceived her in the visions you sent her and the answers you gave to her prayers, both those that I have recorded and the others which I have not set down. All these signs she cherished in her faithful heart, and in her ceaseless prayers she laid them before you as though they were pledges signed by your hand. For, since your mercy endures for ever, by your promises you deign to become a debtor to those whom you release from every debt.

10

So it was that you healed my sickness. To the son of your servant you restored the health of his body, so that he might live to receive from you another far better and more certain kind of health.

[...]

12

I began actively to set about the business of teaching literature and public speaking, which was the purpose for which I had come to Rome. At first I taught in my house, where I collected a number of pupils who had heard of me, and through them my reputation began to grow. But I now realized that there were difficulties in Rome with which I had not had to contend in Africa. True enough, I found that there was no rioting by young hooligans, but I was told that at any moment a number of students would plot together to avoid paying their master his fees and would transfer in a body to another. They were quite unscrupulous, and justice meant nothing to them compared with the love of money. There was hatred for them in my heart, and it was not unselfish hatred, for I suppose that I hated them more for what I should have to suffer from them than for the wrong they might do to any teacher ... For their warped and crooked minds I still hate students like these, but I love them too, hoping to teach them to mend their ways, so that they may learn to love their studies more than money and love you, their God, still more, for you are the Truth, the Source of good that does not fail, and the Peace of purest innocence. But in those days I was readier to dislike them for fear of the harm they might cause me than to hope that they would become good for your sake.

13

So, when the Prefect of Rome received a request from Milan to find a teacher of literature and elocution for the city, with a promise that travelling expenses would be charged to public funds, I applied for the appointment, armed with recommendations from my friends who were so fuddled with the Manichean rigmarole. This journey was to mean the end of my association with them, though none of us knew it at the time. Eventually Symmachus, who was then Prefect, set me a test to satisfy himself of my abilities and sent me to Milan.

In Milan I found your devoted servant the bishop Ambrose, who was known throughout the world as a man whom there were few to equal in goodness. At that time his gifted tongue never tired of dispensing the richness of your corn, the joy of your oil, and the sober intoxication of your wine. Unknown to me, it was you who led me to him, so that I might knowingly be led by him to you. This man of God received me like a father and, as bishop, told me how glad he was that I had come. My heart warmed to him, not at first as a teacher of the truth, which I had quite despaired of finding in your Church, but simply as a man who showed me kindness. I listened attentively when he preached to the people, though not with the proper intention; for my purpose was to judge for myself whether the reports of his powers as a speaker were accurate, or whether eloquence flowed from him more, or less, readily than I had been told. So while I paid the closest attention to the words he used, I was quite uninterested in the subject-matter and was even contemptuous of it. I was delighted with his charming delivery, but although he was a more learned speaker than Faustus, he had not the same soothing and gratifying manner. I am speaking only of his style for, as to content, there could be no comparison between the two. Faustus had lost his way among the fallacies of Manicheism, while Ambrose most surely taught the doctrine of salvation. But your mercy is unknown to sinners such as I was then, though step by step, unwittingly, I was coming closer to it.

14

For although I did not trouble to take what Ambrose said to heart, but only to listen to the manner in which he said it - this being the only paltry interest that remained to me now that I had lost hope that man could find the path that led to you - nevertheless his meaning, which I tried to ignore, found its way into my mind together with his words, which I admired so much. I could not keep the two apart, and while I was all ears to seize upon his eloquence, I also began to sense the truth of what he said, though only gradually. First of all it struck me that it was, after all, possible to vindicate his arguments. I began to believe that the Catholic faith, which I had thought impossible to defend against the objections of the Manichees, might fairly be maintained, especially since I had heard one passage after another in the Old Testament figuratively explained. These passages had been death to me when I took them literally, but once I had heard them explained in their spiritual meaning I began to blame myself for my despair, at least in so far as it had led me to suppose that it was quite impossible to counter people who hated and derided the law and the prophets. But I did not feel that I ought to follow the Catholic path simply because it too had its learned men, ready to vouch for it and never at a loss for sound arguments in answer to objections. On the other hand I did not think that my own beliefs should be condemned simply because an equally good case could be made out for either side. For I thought the Catholic side unbeaten but still not victorious.

Next I tried my utmost to find some certain proof which would convict the Manichees of falsehood. If I had been able to conceive of a spiritual substance, all their inventions would at once have been disproved and rejected from my mind. But this I could not do. However, the more I thought about the material world and the whole of nature, as far as we can be aware of it through our bodily senses, and the more I took stock of the various theories, the more I began to think that the opinions of the majority of the philosophers were most likely to be true. So, treating everything as a matter of doubt, as the Academics are generally supposed to do, and hovering between one doctrine and another, I made up my mind at least to leave the Manichees, for while I was in this state of indecision I did not think it right to remain in the sect now that I found the theories of some of the philosophers preferable. Nevertheless I utterly refused to entrust the healing of the maladies of my soul to these philosophers, because they ignored the saving name of Christ. I therefore decided to remain a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which was what my parents wanted, at least until I could clearly see a light to guide my steps.

Book VI

1

O God, Hope of my youth, where were you all this time? Where were you hiding from me? Were you not my Creator and was it not you who made me different from the beasts that walk on the earth and wiser than the birds that fly in the air? Yet I was walking on a treacherous path, in darkness. I was looking for you outside myself and I did not find the God of my own heart. I had reached the depths of the ocean. I had lost all faith and was in despair of finding the truth.

By now my mother had come to me, for her piety had given her strength to follow me over land and sea, facing all perils in the sure faith she had in you. When the ship was in danger, it was she who put heart into the crew, the very men to whom passengers unused to the sea turn for reassurance when they are alarmed. She promised them that they would make the land in safety, because you had given her this promise in a vision. And she found that I too was in grave danger because of my despair of discovering the truth. I told her that I was not a Catholic Christian, but at least I was no longer a Manichee. Yet she did not leap for joy as though this news were unexpected. In fact, to this extent, her anxiety for me had already been allayed. For in her prayers to you she wept for me as though I were dead, but she also knew that you would recall me to life. In her heart she offered me to you as though I were laid out on a bier, waiting for you to say to the widow's son, 'Young man, I say to you, stand up.' And he would get up and begin to speak, and you would give him back to his mother. So she felt no great surge of joy and her heart beat none the faster when she heard that the tears and the prayers which she had offered you day after day had at last, in great part, been rewarded. For I had been rescued from falsehood, even if I had not yet grasped the truth. Instead, because she was sure that if you had promised her all, you would also give her what remained to be given, she told me quite serenely, with her heart full of faith, that in Christ she believed that before she left this life she would see me a faithful Catholic. This was what she said to me. But to you, from whom all mercies spring, she poured out her tears and her prayers all the more fervently, begging you to speed your help and give me light in my darkness. She hurried all the more eagerly to church, where she listened with rapt attention to all that Ambrose said. For her his words were like a spring of water within her, that flows continually to bring her everlasting life. She loved him as God's angel, because she had learnt that it was through him that I had been led, for the time being, into a state of wavering uncertainty. She had no doubt that I must pass through this condition, which would lead me from sickness to health, but not before I had surmounted a still graver danger, much like that which doctors call the crisis.

5

From now on I began to prefer the Catholic teaching. The Church demanded that certain things should be believed even though they could not be proved, for if they could be proved, not all men could understand the proof, and some could not be proved at all. I thought that the Church was entirely honest in this and far less pretentious than the Manichees, who laughed at people who took things on faith, made rash promises of scientific knowledge, and then put forward a whole system of preposterous inventions which they expected their followers to believe on trust because they could not be proved. Then, O Lord, you laid your most gentle, most merciful finger on my heart and set my thoughts in order, for I began to realize that I believed countless things which I had never seen or which had taken place when I was not there to see - so many events in the history of the world, so many facts about places and towns which I had never seen, and so much that I believed on the word of friends or doctors or various other people. Unless we took these things on trust, we should accomplish absolutely nothing in this life. Most of all it came home to me how firm and unshakeable was the faith which told me who my parents were, because I could never have known this unless I believed what I was told. In this way you made me understand that I ought not to find fault with those who believed your Bible, which you have established with such great authority amongst almost all the nations of the earth, but with those who did not believe it; and that I ought to pay no attention to people who asked me how I could be sure that the Scriptures were delivered to mankind by the Spirit of the one true God who can tell no lie. It was precisely this that I most needed to believe, because in all the conflicting books of philosophy which I had read no misleading proposition, however contentious, had been able, even for one moment, to wrest from me my belief in your existence and in your right to govern human affairs; and this despite the fact that I had no knowledge of what you are.

My belief that you existed and that our well-being was in your hands was sometimes strong, sometimes weak, but I always held to it even though I knew neither what I ought to think about your substance nor which way would lead me to you or lead me back to you. And so, since we are too weak to discover the truth by reason alone and for this reason need the authority of sacred books, I began to believe that you would never have invested the Bible with such conspicuous authority in every land unless you had intended it to be the means by which we should look for you and believe in you. As for the passages which had previously struck me as absurd, now that I had heard reasonable explanations of many of them I regarded them as of the nature of profound mysteries; and it seemed to me all the more right that the authority of Scripture should be respected and accepted with the purest faith, because while all can read it with ease, it also has a deeper meaning in which its great secrets are locked away. Its plain language and simple style make it accessible to everyone, and yet it absorbs the attention of the learned. By this means it gathers all men in the wide sweep of its net, and some pass safely through the narrow mesh and come to you. They are not many, but they would be fewer still if it were not that this book stands out alone on so high a peak of authority and yet draws so great a throng in the embrace of its holy humility.

[...]

13

I was being urged incessantly to marry, and had already made my proposal and been accepted. My mother had done all she could to help, for it was her hope that, once I was married, I should be washed clean of my sins by the saving waters of baptism. She was delighted that, day by day, I was becoming more fitted for baptism, and in my acceptance of the faith she saw the answer to her prayers and the fulfilment of your promises. At my request and by her own desire she daily beseeched you with heartfelt prayers to send her some revelation in a vision about my future marriage, but this you would not do. She had some vague and fanciful dreams, which were the result of her preoccupation with these thoughts, and when she told me about them, she treated them as of no importance and did not speak with the assurance that she always had when you sent her visions. She always said that by some sense, which she could not describe in words, she was able to distinguish between your revelations and her own natural dreams. All the same, the plans for my marriage were pushed ahead and the girl's parents were asked for their consent. She was nearly two years too young for marriage, but I liked her well enough and was content to wait.

15

Meanwhile I was sinning more and more. The woman with whom I had been living was torn from my side as an obstacle to my marriage and this was a blow which crushed my heart to bleeding, because I loved her dearly. She went back to Africa, vowing never to give herself to any other man, and left with me the son whom she had borne me. But I was too unhappy and too weak to imitate this example set me by a woman. I was impatient at the delay of two years which had to pass before the girl whom I had asked to marry became my wife, and because I was more a slave of lust than a true lover of marriage, I took another mistress, without the sanction of wedlock. This meant that the disease of my soul would continue unabated, in fact it would be aggravated, and under the watch and ward of uninterrupted habit it would persist into the state of marriage. Furthermore the wound that I had received when my first mistress was wrenched away showed no signs of healing. At first the pain was sharp and searing, but then the wound began to fester, and though the pain was duller there was all the less hope of a cure.

16

Praise and honour be yours, O Fountain of mercy! As my misery grew worse and worse, you came the closer to me. Though I did not know it, your hand was poised ready to lift me from the mire and wash me clean. Nothing prevented me from plunging still deeper into the gulf of carnal pleasure except the fear of death and your judgement to come. Through all my changing opinions this fear never left my heart.

[...]

What crooked paths I trod! What dangers threatened my soul when it rashly hoped that by abandoning you it would find something better! Whichever way it turned, on front or back or sides, it lay on a bed that was hard, for in you alone the soul can rest. You are there to free us from the misery of error which leads us astray, to set us on your own path and to comfort us by saying, 'Run on, for I shall hold you up. I shall lead you and carry you on to the end.'

Book VII

1

By now my adolescence, with all its shameful sins, was dead. I was approaching mature manhood, but the older I grew, the more disgraceful was my self-delusion. I could imagine no kind of substance except such as is normally seen by the eye. But I did not think of you, my God, in the shape of a human body, for I had rejected this idea ever since I had first begun to study philosophy, and I was glad to find that our spiritual mother, your Catholic Church, also rejected such beliefs. But I did not know how else to think of you.

I was only a man, and a weak man at that, but I tried to think of you as the supreme God, the only God, the true God. With all my heart I believed that you could never suffer decay or hurt or change, for although I did not know how or why this should be, I understood with complete certainty that what is subject to decay is inferior to that which is not, and without hesitation I placed that which cannot be harmed above that which can, and I saw that what remains constant is better than that which is changeable. My heart was full of bitter protests against the creations of my imagination, and this single truth was the only weapon with which I could try to drive from my mind's eye all the unclean images which swarmed before it. But hardly had I brushed them aside than, in the flicker of an eyelid, they crowded upon me again, forcing themselves upon my sight and clouding my vision, so that although I did not imagine you in the shape of a human body, I could not free myself from the thought that you were some kind of bodily substance extended in space, either permeating the world or diffused in infinity beyond it. This substance I thought of as something not subject to decay or harm or variation and therefore better than any that might suffer corruption or damage or change. I reasoned in this way because, if I tried to imagine something without dimensions of space, it seemed to me that nothing, absolutely nothing, remained, not even a void. For if a body were removed from the space which it occupied, and that space remained empty of any body whatsoever, whether of earth, water, air, or sky, there would still remain an empty space. Nothing would be there, but it would still be a space.

[...]

So I thought of you too, O Life of my life, as a great being with dimensions extending everywhere, throughout infinite space, permeating the whole mass of the world and reaching in all directions beyond it without limit, so that the earth and the sky and all creation were full of you and their limits were within you, while you had no limits at all. For the air, that is, the atmosphere which covers the earth, is a material body, but it does not block out the light of the sun. The light passes through it and penetrates it, not by breaking it or splitting it, but by filling it completely. In the same way I imagined that you were able to pass through material bodies, not only the air and the sky and the sea, but also the earth, and that you could penetrate to all their parts, the greatest and the smallest alike, so that they were filled with your presence, and by this unseen force you ruled over all that you had created, from within and from without.

This was the theory to which I held, because I could imagine you in no other way. But it was a false theory. For if it were true, it would mean that a greater part of the earth would contain a greater part of you, and a smaller part less in proportion. Everything would be filled with your presence, but in such a way that the body of an elephant would contain more of you than the body of a sparrow, because the one is larger than the other and occupies more space. So you would distribute your parts piecemeal among the parts of the world, to each more or less according to its size. This, of course, is quite untrue. But at that time you had not yet given me light in my darkness.

3

But although I declared and firmly believed that you, our Lord God, the true God who made not only our souls but also our bodies and not only our souls and bodies but all things, living and inanimate, as well, although I believed that you were free from corruption or mutation or any degree of change, I still could not find a clear explanation, without complications, of the cause of evil. Whatever the cause might be, I saw that it was not to be found in any theory that would oblige me to believe that the immutable God was mutable. If I believed this, I should myself become a cause of evil, the very thing which I was trying to discover. So I continued the search with some sense of relief, because I was quite sure that the theories of the Manichees were wrong. I repudiated these people with all my heart, because I could see that while they were inquiring into the origin of evil they were full of evil themselves, since they preferred to think that yours was a substance that could suffer evil rather than that theirs was capable of committing it.

I was told that we do evil because we choose to do so of our own free will, and suffer it because your justice rightly demands that we should. I did my best to understand this, but I could not see it clearly. I tried to raise my mental perceptions out of the abyss which engulfed them, but I sank back into it once more. Again and again I tried, but always I sank back. One thing lifted me up into the light of your day. It was that I knew that I had a will, as surely as I knew that there was life in me. When I chose to do something or not to do it, I was quite certain that it was my own self, and not some other person, who made this act of will, so that I was on the point of understanding that herein lay the cause of my sin. If I did anything against my will, it seemed to me to be something which happened to me rather than something which I did, and I looked upon it not as a fault, but as a punishment. And because I thought of you as a just God, I admitted at once that your punishments were not unjust.

But then I would ask myself once more: 'Who made me? Surely it was my God, who is not only good but Goodness itself. How, then, do I come to possess a will that can choose to do wrong and refuse to do good, thereby providing a just reason why I should be punished? Who put this will into me? Who sowed this seed of bitterness in me, when all that I am was made by my God, who is Sweetness itself? If it was the devil who put it there, who made the devil? If he was a good angel who became a devil because of his own wicked will, how did he come to possess the wicked will which made him a devil, when the Creator, who is entirely good, made him a good angel and nothing else?'

[...]

12

It was made clear to me also that even those things which are subject to decay are good. If they were of the supreme order of goodness, they could not become corrupt; but neither could they become corrupt unless they were in some way good. For if they were supremely good, it would not be possible for them to be corrupted. On the other hand, if they were entirely without good, there would be nothing in them that could become corrupt. For corruption is harmful, but unless it diminished what is good, it could do no harm. The conclusion then must be either that corruption does no harm - which is not possible; or that everything which is corrupted is deprived of good - which is beyond doubt. But if they are deprived of all good, they will not exist at all. For if they still exist but can no longer be corrupted, they will be better than they were before, because they now continue their existence in an incorruptible state. But could anything be more preposterous than to say that things are made better by being deprived of all good?

So we must conclude that if things are deprived of all good, they cease altogether to be; and this means that as long as they are, they are good. Therefore, whatever is, is good; and evil, the origin of which I was trying to find, is not a substance, because if it were a substance, it would be good. For either it would be an incorruptible substance of the supreme order of goodness, or it would be a corruptible substance which would not be corruptible unless it were good. So it became obvious to me that all that you have made is good, and that there are no substances whatsoever that were not made by you. And because you did not make them all equal, each single thing is good and collectively they are very good, for our God made his whole creation very good.

17

I was astonished that although I now loved you and not some phantom in your place, I did not persist in enjoyment of my God. Your beauty drew me to you, but soon I was dragged away from you by my own weight and in dismay I plunged again into the things of this world. The weight I carried was the habit of the flesh. But your memory remained with me and I had no doubt at all that you were the one to whom I should cling, only I was not yet able to cling to you. For ever the soul is weighed down by a mortal body, earth-bound cell that clogs the manifold activity of its thought. I was most certain, too, that from the foundations of the world men have caught sight of your invisible nature, your eternal power, and your divineness, as they are known through your creatures. For I wondered how it was that I could appreciate beauty in material things on earth or in the heavens, and what it was that enabled me to make correct decisions about things that are subject to change and to rule that one thing ought to be like this, another like that. I wondered how it was that I was able to judge them in this way, and I realized that above my own mind, which was liable to change, there was the never changing, true eternity of truth. So, step by step, my thoughts moved on from the consideration of material things to the soul, which perceives things through the senses of the body, and then to the soul's inner power, to which the bodily senses communicate external facts. Beyond this dumb animals cannot go. The next stage is the power of reason, to which the facts communicated by the bodily senses are submitted for judgement.

This power of reason, realizing that in me it too was liable to change, led me on to consider the source of its own understanding. It withdrew my thoughts from their normal course and drew back from the confusion of images which pressed upon it, so that it might discover what light it was that had been shed upon it when it proclaimed for certain that what was immutable was better than that which was not, and how it had come to know the immutable itself. For unless, by some means, it had known the immutable, it could not possibly have been certain that it was preferable to the mutable. And so, in an instant of awe, my mind attained to the sight of the God who IS. Then, at last, I caught sight of your invisible nature, as it is known through your creatures. But I had no strength to fix my gaze upon them. In my weakness I recoiled and fell back into my old ways, carrying with me nothing but the memory of something that I loved and longed for, as though I had sensed the fragrance of the fare but was not yet able to eat it.

18

I began to search for a means of gaining the strength I needed to enjoy you, but I could not find this means until I embraced the mediator between God and men, Jesus Christ, who is a man, like them, and also rules as God over all things, blessed for ever. He was calling to me and saying I am the way; I am truth and life. He it was who united with our flesh that food which I was too weak to take; for the Word was made flesh so that your Wisdom, by which you created all things, might be milk to suckle us in infancy. For I was not humble enough to conceive of the humble Jesus Christ as my God, nor had I learnt what lesson his human weakness was meant to teach. The lesson is that your Word, the eternal Truth, which far surpasses even the higher parts of your creation, raises up to himself all who subject themselves to him. From the clay of which we are made he built for himself a lowly house in this world below, so that by this means he might cause those who were to be made subject to him to abandon themselves and come over to his side. He would cure them of the pride that swelled up in their hearts and would nurture love in its place, so that they should no longer stride ahead confident in themselves, but might realize their own weakness when at their feet they saw God himself, enfeebled by sharing this garment of our mortality. And at last, from weariness, they would cast themselves down upon his humanity, and when it rose they too would rise.

Book VIII

6

O Lord, my Helper and my Redeemer, I shall now tell and confess to the glory of your name how you released me from the fetters of lust which held me so tightly shackled and from my slavery to the things of this world [...]

One day when for some reason that I cannot recall Nebridius was not with us, Alypius and I were visited at our house by a fellow-countryman of ours from Africa, a man named Ponticianus, who held a high position in the Emperor's household. He had some request to make of us and we sat down to talk. He happened to notice a book lying on a table used for games, which was near where we were sitting. He picked it up and opened it and was greatly surprised to find that it contained Paul's epistles, for he had supposed that it was one of the books which used to tax all my strength as a teacher. Then he smiled and looked at me and said how glad he was, and how surprised, to find this book, and no others, there before my eyes. He of course was a Christian and a faithful servant to you, our God. Time and again he knelt before you in church repeating his prayers and lingering over them. When I told him that I studied Paul's writings with the greatest attention, he began to tell us the story of Antony, the Egyptian monk, whose name was held in high honour by your servants, although Alypius and I had never heard it until then. When Ponticianus realized this, he went into greater detail, wishing to instil some knowledge of this great man into our ignorant minds, for he was very surprised that we had not heard of him. For our part, we too were astonished to hear of the wonders you had worked so recently, almost in our own times, and witnessed by so many, in the true faith and in the Catholic Church. In fact all three of us were amazed, Alypius and I because the story we heard was so remarkable, and Ponticianus because we had not heard it before.

After this he went on to tell us of the groups of monks in the monasteries, of their way of life that savours of your sweetness, and of the fruitful wastes of the desert. All of this was new to us. There was a monastery at Milan also, outside the walls, full of good brethren under the care of Ambrose, but we knew nothing of this either. Ponticianus continued to talk and we listened in silence. Eventually he told us of the time when he and three of his companions were at Trêves. One afternoon, while the Emperor was watching the games in the circus, they went out to stroll in the gardens near the city walls. They became separated into two groups, Ponticianus and one of the others remaining together while the other two went off by themselves. As they wandered on, the second pair came to a house which was the home of some servants of yours, men poor in spirit, to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs. In the house they found a book containing the life of Antony. One of them began to read it and was so fascinated and thrilled by the story that even before he had finished reading he conceived the idea of taking upon himself the same kind of life and abandoning his career in the world - both he and his friend were officials in the service of the State - in order to become your servant. All at once he was filled with the love of holiness. Angry with himself and full of remorse, he looked at his friend and said, 'What do we hope to gain by all the efforts we make? What are we looking for? What is our purpose in serving the State? Can we hope for anything better at Court than to be the Emperor's friends? Even so, surely our position would be precarious and exposed to much danger? We shall meet it at every turn, only to reach another danger which is greater still. And how long is it to be before we reach it? But if I wish, I can become the friend of God at this very moment.'

After saying this he turned back to the book, labouring under the pain of the new life that was taking birth in him. He read on and in his heart, where you alone could see, a change was taking place. His mind was being divested of the world, as could presently be seen. For while he was reading, his heart leaping and turning in his breast, a cry broke from him as he saw the better course and determined to take it. Your servant now, he said to his friend, 'I have torn myself free from all our ambitions and have decided to serve God. From this very moment, here and now, I shall start to serve him. If you will not follow my lead, do not stand in my way.' The other answered that he would stand by his comrade, for such service was glorious and the reward was great. So these two, now your servants, built their tower at the cost which had to be paid, that is, at the cost of giving up all they possessed and following you.

At this moment Ponticianus and the man who had been walking with him in another part of the garden arrived at the house, looking for their friends. Now that they had found them they said that it was time to go home, as the daylight was beginning to fade. But the other two told them of the decision they had made and what they proposed to do. They explained what had made them decide to take this course and how they had agreed upon it, and they asked their friends, if they would not join them, at least not to put obstacles in their way. Ponticianus said that he and the other man did not change their old ways, but they were moved to tears for their own state of life. In all reverence they congratulated the others and commended themselves to their prayers. Then they went back to the palace, burdened with hearts that were bound to this earth; but the others remained in the house and their hearts were fixed upon heaven. Both these men were under a promise of marriage, but once the two women heard what had happened, they too dedicated their virginity to you.

7

This was what Ponticianus told us. But while he was speaking, O Lord, you were turning me around to look at myself. For I had placed myself behind my own back, refusing to see myself. You were setting me before my own eyes so that I could see how sordid I was, how deformed and squalid, how tainted with ulcers and sores. I saw it all and stood aghast, but there was no place where I could escape from myself. If I tried to turn my eyes away they fell on Ponticianus, still telling his tale, and in this way you brought me face to face with myself once more, forcing me upon my own sight so that I should see my wickedness and loathe it. I had known it all along, but I had always pretended that it was something different. I had turned a blind eye and forgotten it.

But now, the more my heart warmed to those two men as I heard how they had made the choice that was to save them by giving themselves up entirely to your care, the more bitterly I hated myself in comparison with them. Many years of my life had passed - twelve, unless I am wrong - since I had read Cicero's Hortensius at the age of nineteen and it had inspired me to study philosophy. But I still postponed my renunciation of this world's joys, which would have left me free to look for that other happiness, the very search for which, let alone its discovery, I ought to have prized above the discovery of all human treasures and kingdoms or the ability to enjoy all the pleasures of the body at a mere nod of the head. As a youth I had been woefully at fault, particularly in early adolesence. I had prayed to you for chastity and said 'Give me chastity and continence, but not yet.' For I was afraid that you would answer my prayer at once and cure me too soon of the disease of lust, which I wanted satisfied, not quelled. I had wandered on along the road of vice in the sacrilegious superstition of the Manichees, not because I thought that it was right, but because I preferred it to the Christian belief, which I did not explore as I ought but opposed out of malice.

[...]

All the time that Ponticianus was speaking my conscience gnawed away at me like this. I was overcome by burning shame, and when he had finished his tale and completed the business for which he had come, he went away and I was left to my own thoughts. I made all sorts of accusations against myself. I cudgelled my soul and belaboured it with reasons why it should follow me now that I was trying so hard to follow you. But it fought back. It would not obey and yet could offer no excuse. All its old arguments were exhausted and had been shown to be false. It remained silent and afraid, for as much as the loss of life itself it feared the stanching of the flow of habit, by which it was wasting away to death.

8

My inner self was a house divided against itself. In the heat of the fierce conflict which I had stirred up against my soul in our common abode, my heart, I turned upon Alypius. My looks betrayed the commotion in my mind as I exclaimed, 'What is the matter with us? What is the meaning of this story? These men have not had our schooling, yet they stand up and storm the gates of heaven while we, for all our learning, lie here grovelling in this world of flesh and blood! Is it because they have led the way that we are ashamed to follow? Is it not worse to hold back?'

[...]

There was a small garden attached to the house where we lodged. We were free to make use of it as well as the rest of the house because our host, the owner of the house, did not live there. I now found myself driven by the tumult in my breast to take refuge in this garden, where no one could interrupt that fierce struggle, in which I was my own contestant, until it came to its conclusion. What the conclusion was to be you knew, O Lord, but I did not. Meanwhile I was beside myself with madness that would bring me sanity. I was dying a death that would bring me life. I knew the evil that was in me, but the good that was soon to be born in me I did not know. So I went out into the garden and Alypius followed at my heels. His presence was no intrusion on my solitude, and how could he leave me in that state? We sat down as far as possible from the house. I was frantic, overcome by violent anger with myself for not accepting your will and entering into your covenant. Yet in my bones I knew that this was what I ought to do. In my heart of hearts I praised it to the skies. And to reach this goal I needed no chariot or ship. I need not even walk as far as I had come from the house to the place where we sat, for to make the journey, and to arrive safely, no more was required than an act of will. But it must be a resolute and whole-hearted act of the will, not some lame wish which I kept turning over and over in my mind, so that it had to wrestle with itself, part of it trying to rise, part falling to the ground.

[...]

11

This was the nature of my sickness. I was in torment, reproaching myself more bitterly than ever as I twisted and turned in my chain. I hoped that my chain might be broken once and for all, because it was only a small thing that held me now. All the same it held me. And you, O Lord, never ceased to watch over my secret heart. In your stern mercy you lashed me with the twin scourge of fear and shame in case I should give way once more and the worn and slender remnant of my chain should not be broken but gain new strength and bind me all the faster. In my heart I kept saying 'Let it be now, let it be now!', and merely by saying this I was on the point of making the resolution. I was on the point of making it, but I did not succeed. Yet I did not fall back into my old state. I stood on the brink of resolution, waiting to take fresh breath. I tried again and came a little nearer to my goal, and then a little nearer still, so that I could almost reach out and grasp it. But I did not reach it. I could not reach out to it or grasp it, because I held back from the step by which I should die to death and become alive to life. My lower instincts, which had taken firm hold of me, were stronger than the higher, which were untried. And the closer I came to the moment which was to mark the great change in me, the more I shrank from it in horror. But it did not drive me back or turn me from my purpose: it merely left me hanging in suspense.

[...]

12

I probed the hidden depths of my soul and wrung its pitiful secrets from it, and when I mustered them all before the eyes of my heart, a great storm broke within me, bringing with it a great deluge of tears. I stood up and left Alypius so that I might weep and cry to my heart's content, for it occurred to me that tears were best shed in solitude. I moved away far enough to avoid being embarrassed even by his presence. He must have realized what my feelings were, for I suppose I had said something and he had known from the sound of my voice that I was ready to burst into tears. So I stood up and left him where we had been sitting, utterly bewildered. Somehow I flung myself down beneath a fig tree and gave way to the tears which now streamed from my eyes, the sacrifice that is acceptable to you. I had much to say to you, my God, not in these very words but in this strain: Lord, will you never be content? Must we always taste your vengeance? Forget the long record of our sins. For I felt that I was still the captive of my sins, and in my misery I kept crying "How long shall I go on saying 'tomorrow, tomorrow'? Why not now? Why not make an end of my ugly sins at this moment?"

I was asking myself these questions, weeping all the while with the most bitter sorrow in my heart, when all at once I heard the sing-song voice of a child in a nearby house. Whether it was the voice of a boy or a girl I cannot say, but again and again it repeated the refrain 'Take it and read, take it and read'. At this I looked up, thinking hard whether there was any kind of game in which children used to chant words like these, but I could not remember ever hearing them before. I stemmed my flood of tears and stood up, telling myself that this could only be a divine command to open my book of Scripture and read the first passage on which my eyes should fall. For I had heard the story of Antony, and I remembered how he had happened to go into a church while the Gospel was being read and had taken it as a counsel addressed to himself when he heard the words Go home and sell all that belongs to you. Give it to the poor, and so the treasure you have shall be in heaven; then come back and follow me. By this divine pronouncement he had at once been converted to you.

So I hurried back to the place where Alypius was sitting, for when I stood up to move away I had put down the book containing Paul's Epistles. I seized it and opened it, and in silence I read the first passage on which my eyes fell: Not in revelling and drunkenness, not in lust and wantonness, not in quarrels and rivalries. Rather, arm yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ; spend no more thought on nature and nature's appetites. I had no wish to read more and no need to do so. For in an instant, as I came to the end of the sentence, it was as though the light of confidence flooded into my heart and all the darkness of doubt was dispelled.

I marked the place with my finger or by some other sign and closed the book. My looks now were quite calm as I told Alypius what had happened to me. He too told me what he had been feeling, which of course I did not know. He asked to see what I had read. I showed it to him and he read on beyond the text which I had read. I did not know what followed, but it was this: Find room among you for a man of over-delicate conscience. Alypius applied this to himself and told me so. This admonition was enough to give him strength, and without suffering the distress of hesitation he made his resolution and took this good purpose to himself. And it very well suited his moral character, which had long been far, far better than my own.

Then we went in and told my mother, who was overjoyed. And when we went on to describe how it had all happened, she was jubilant with triumph and glorified you, who are powerful enough, and more than powerful enough, to carry out your purpose beyond all our hopes and dreams. For she saw that you had granted her far more than she used to ask in her tearful prayers and plaintive lamentations. You converted me to yourself, so that I no longer desired a wife or placed any hope in this world but stood firmly upon the rule of faith, where you had shown me to her in a dream so many years before. And you turned her sadness into rejoicing, into joy far fuller than her dearest wish, far sweeter and more chaste than any she had hoped to find in children begotten of my flesh.

Book IX

2

Knowing that you were watching me I thought it best to retire quietly from the market where I sold the services of my tongue rather than make an abrupt and sensational departure. I intended that young pupils who gave no thought to your law or your peace, but only to lies and the insane warfare of the courts, should no longer buy from my lips any weapon to arm their madness. Luckily there were now only a few days left before the autumn holidays, and I decided to bear with this delay and withdraw at the proper time. Now that I had been redeemed by you I had no intention of offering myself for sale again. This plan was known to you, but no man knew of it except our closest friends. We had agreed that it should not be made generally known, although, as we climbed up from the valley of tears, singing the song of ascent, you had given us sharp arrows and burning coals to use against any cunning tongues that might speak against us under the pretence of giving good advice and devour us with their love, just as men devour food for which they have a liking.

[...]

6

When the time came for me to hand in my name for baptism, we left the country and went back to Milan. It was Alypius's wish to be reborn in you at the same time. He was already endued with the humility which fits a man for your sacraments, and he had subjected his body to such stern discipline that he would even walk barefoot on the icy soil of Italy, a thing which few would venture to do. With us we took the boy Adeodatus, my natural son born of my sin. You had given him every gift. Although he was barely fifteen, there were many learned and respected men who were not his equals in intelligence. I acknowledge that he had his gifts from you, O Lord my God, who are the Creator of all and have great power to reshape our deformities, for there was nothing of mine in that boy except my sin. It was you too, and none other, who had inspired us to bring him up as you would have him. These were your gifts and I acknowledge them.

[...]

We made him our companion, in your grace no younger than ourselves. Together we were ready to begin our schooling in your ways. We were baptized, and all anxiety over the past melted away from us. The days were all too short, for I was lost in wonder and joy, meditating upon your far-reaching providence for the salvation of the human race. The tears flowed from me when I heard your hymns and canticles, for the sweet singing of your Church moved me deeply. The music surged in my ears, truth seeped into my heart, and my feelings of devotion overflowed, so that the tears streamed down. But they were tears of gladness.

8

You, O God, who bring men of one mind to live together, brought a young man from our own town, named Evodius, to join our company. He had been converted and baptized before us, while he was employed as a government officer, but he had given up the service of the State and entered upon yours. He remained with us and we intended to live together in the devout life which we proposed to lead. We discussed where we could most usefully serve you and together we set out to return to Africa. While we were at Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber, my mother died.

There are many things which I do not set down in this book, since I am pressed for time. My God, I pray you to accept my confessions and also the gratitude I bear you for all the many things which I pass over in silence. But I will omit not a word that my mind can bring to birth concerning your servant, my mother. In the flesh she brought me to birth in this world: in her heart she brought me to birth in your eternal light. It is not of her gifts that I shall speak, but of the gifts you gave to her. For she was neither her own maker nor her own teacher. It was you who made her, and neither her father nor her mother knew what kind of woman their daughter would grow up to be. It was by Christ's teaching, by the guidance of your only Son, that she was brought up to honour and obey you in one of those good Christian families which form the body of your Church [...]

10

Not long before the day on which she was to leave this life - you knew which day it was to be, O Lord, though we did not - my mother and I were alone, leaning from a window which overlooked the garden in the courtyard of the house where we were staying at Ostia. We were waiting there after our long and tiring journey, away from the crowd, to refresh ourselves before our sea-voyage. I believe that what I am going to tell happened through the secret working of your providence. For we were talking alone together and our conversation was serene and joyful. We had forgotten what we had left behind and were intent on what lay before us. In the presence of Truth, which is yourself, we were wondering what the eternal life of the saints would be like, that life which no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no human heart conceived. But we laid the lips of our hearts to the heavenly stream that flows from your fountain, the source of all life which is in you, so that as far as it was in our power to do so we might be sprinkled with its waters and in some sense reach an understanding of this great mystery.

Our conversation led us to the conclusion that no bodily pleasure, however great it might be and whatever earthly light might shed lustre upon it, was worthy of comparison, or even of mention, beside the happiness of the life of the saints. As the flame of love burned stronger in us and raised us higher towards the eternal God, our thoughts ranged over the whole compass of material things in their various degrees, up to the heavens themselves, from which the sun and the moon and the stars shine down upon the earth. Higher still we climbed, thinking and speaking all the while in wonder at all that you have made. At length we came to our own souls and passed beyond them to that place of everlasting plenty, where you feed Israel for ever with the food of truth. There life is that Wisdom by which all these things that we know are made, all things that ever have been and all that are yet to be. But that Wisdom is not made: it is as it has always been and as it will be for ever - or, rather, I should not say that it has been or will be, for it simply is, because eternity is not in the past or in the future. And while we spoke of the eternal Wisdom, longing for it and straining for it with all the strength of our hearts, for one fleeting instant we reached out and touched it. Then with a sigh, leaving our spiritual harvest bound to it, we returned to the sound of our own speech, in which each word has a beginning and an ending - far, far different from your Word, our Lord, who abides in himself for ever, yet never grows old and gives new life to all things.

[...]

This was the purport of our talk, though we did not speak in these precise words or exactly as I have reported them. Yet you know, O Lord, that as we talked that day, the world, for all its pleasures, seemed a paltry place compared with the life that we spoke of. And then my mother said, 'My son, for my part I find no further pleasure in this life. What I am still to do or why I am here in the world, I do not know, for I have no more to hope for on this earth. There was one reason, and one alone, why I wished to remain a little longer in this life, and that was to see you a Catholic Christian before I died. God has granted my wish and more besides, for I now see you as his servant, spurning such happiness as the world can give. What is left for me to do in this world?'

11

I scarcely remember what answer I gave her. It was about five days after this, or not much more, that she took to her bed with a fever. One day during her illness she had a fainting fit and lost consciousness for a short time. We hurried to her bedside, but she soon regained consciousness and looked up at my brother and me as we stood beside her. With a puzzled look she asked 'Where was I?' Then watching us closely as we stood there speechless with grief, she said 'You will bury your mother here.' I said nothing, trying hard to hold back my tears, but my brother said something to the effect that he wished for her sake that she would die in her own country, not abroad. When she heard this, she looked at him anxiously and her eyes reproached him for his worldly thoughts. She turned to me and said, 'See how he talks!' and then, speaking to both of us, she went on, 'It does not matter where you bury my body. Do not let that worry you! All I ask of you is that, wherever you may be, you should remember me at the altar of the Lord.'

[...]

And so on the ninth day of her illness, when she was fifty-six and I was thirty-three, her pious and devoted soul was set free from the body.

13

Now that my soul has recovered from that wound, in which perhaps I was guilty of too much worldly affection, tears of another sort stream from my eyes. They are tears which I offer to you, my God, for your handmaid. They flow from a spirit which trembles at the thought of the dangers which await every soul that has died with Adam. For although she was alive in Christ even before her soul was parted from the body, and her faith and the good life she led resounded to the glory of your name, yet I cannot presume to say that from the time when she was reborn in baptism no word contrary to your commandments ever fell from her lips. Your Son, the Truth, has said: Any man who says to his brother, You fool, must answer for it in hell fire, and however praiseworthy a man's life may be, it will go hard with him if you lay aside your mercy when you come to examine it. But you do not search out our faults ruthlessly, and because of this we hope and believe that one day we shall find a place with you. Yet if any man makes a list of his deserts, what would it be but a list of your gifts? If only men would know themselves for what they are! If only they who boast would make their boast in the Lord!

And so, my Glory and my Life, God of my heart, I will lay aside for a while all the good deeds which my mother did. For them I thank you, but now I pray to you for her sins. Hear me through your Son, who hung on the cross and now sits at your right hand and pleads for us, for he is the true medicine of our wounds. I know that my mother always acted with mercy and that she forgave others with all her heart when they trespassed against her. Forgive her too, O Lord, if ever she trespassed against you in all the long years of her life after baptism. Forgive her, I beseech you; do not call her to account. Let your mercy give your judgement an honourable welcome, for your words are true and you have promised mercy to the merciful. If they are merciful, it is by your gift; and you will show pity on those whom you pity; you will show mercy where you are merciful.

[...]

Let her rest in peace with her husband. He was her first husband and she married no other after him. She served him, yielding you a harvest, so that in the end she also won him for you. O my Lord, my God, inspire your servants my brothers - they are your sons and my masters, whom I serve with heart and voice and pen - inspire those of them who read this book to remember Monica, your servant, at your altar and with her Patricius, her husband, who died before her, by whose bodies you brought me into this life, though how it was I do not know. With pious hearts let them remember those who were not only my parents in this light that fails, but were also my brother and sister, subject to you, our Father, in our Catholic mother the Church, and will be my fellow citizens in the eternal Jerusalem for which your people sigh throughout their pilgrimage, from the time when they set out until the time when they return to you. So it shall be that the last request that my mother made to me shall be granted in the prayers of the many who read my confessions more fully than in mine alone.

Book X

2

O Lord, the depths of man's conscience lie bare before your eyes. Could anything of mine remain hidden from you, even if I refused to confess it? I should only be shielding my eyes from seeing you, not hiding myself from you. But now that I have the evidence of my own misery to prove to me how displeasing I am to myself, you are my light and my joy. It is you whom I love and desire, so that I am ashamed of myself and cast myself aside and choose you instead, and I please neither you nor myself except in you.

So, O Lord, all that I am is laid bare before you. I have declared how it profits me to confess to you. And I make my confession, not in words and sounds made by the tongue alone, but with the voice of my soul and in my thoughts which cry aloud to you. Your ear can hear them. For when I am sinful, if I am displeased with myself, this is a confession that I make to you; and when I am good, if I do not claim the merit for myself, this too is confession. For you, O Lord, give your benediction to the just, but first you make a just man of the sinner. And so my confession is made both silently in your sight, my God, and aloud as well, because even though my tongue utters no sound, my heart cries to you. For whatever good I may speak to men you have heard it before in my heart, and whatever good you hear in my heart, you have first spoken to me yourself.

4

But what good do they hope will be done if they listen to what I say? Is it that they wish to join with me in thanking you, when they hear how close I have come to you by your grace, and to pray for me, when they hear how far I am set apart from you by the burden of my sins? If this is what they wish, I shall tell them what I am. For no small good is gained, O Lord my God, if many offer you thanks for me and many pray to you for me. Let all who are truly my brothers love in me what they know from your teaching to be worthy of their love, and let them sorrow to find in me what they know from your teaching to be occasion for remorse. This is what I wish my true brothers to feel in their hearts. I do not speak of strangers or of alien foes, who make treacherous promises, and lift their hands in perjury. But my true brothers are those who rejoice for me in their hearts when they find good in me, and grieve for me when they find sin. They are my true brothers, because whether they see good in me or evil, they love me still. To such as these I shall reveal what I am. Let them breathe a sigh of joy for what is good in me and a sigh of grief for what is bad. The good I do is done by you in me and by your grace: the evil is my fault; it is the punishment you send me. Let my brothers draw their breath in joy for the one and sigh with grief for the other. Let hymns of thanksgiving and cries of sorrow rise together from their hearts, as though they were vessels burning with incense before you. And I pray you, O Lord, to be pleased with the incense that rises in your holy temple and, for your name's sake, to have mercy on me, as you are ever rich in mercy. Do not relinquish what you have begun, but make perfect what is still imperfect in me.

So, if I go on to confess, not what I was, but what I am, the good that comes of it is this. There is joy in my heart when I confess to you, yet there is fear as well; there is sorrow, and yet hope. But I confess not only to you but also to the believers among men, all who share my joy and all who, like me, are doomed to die; all who are my fellows in your kingdom and all who accompany me on this pilgrimage, whether they have gone before or are still to come or are with me as I make my way through life. They are your servants and my brothers. You have chosen them to be your sons. You have named them as the masters whom I am to serve if I wish to live with you and in your grace. This is your bidding, but it would hold less meaning for me if it were made known to me in words alone and I had not the example of Christ, who has shown me the way by his deeds as well. I do your bidding in word and deed alike. I do it beneath the protection of your wings, for the peril would be too great if it were not that my soul has submitted to you and sought the shelter of your wings and that my weakness is known to you. I am no more than a child, but my Father lives for ever and I have a Protector great enough to save me. For he who begot me and he who watches over me are one and the same, and for me there is no good but you, the Almighty, who are with me even before I am with you. So to such as you command me to serve I will reveal, not what I have been, but what I have become and what I am. But, since I do not scrutinize my own conduct, let my words be understood as they are meant.

30

It is truly your command that I should be continent and restrain myself from gratification of corrupt nature, gratification of the eye, the empty pomp of living. You commanded me not to commit fornication, and though you did not forbid me to marry, you counselled me to take a better course. You gave me the grace and I did your bidding, even before I became a minister of your sacrament. But in my memory, of which I have said much, the images of things imprinted upon it by my former habits still linger on. When I am awake they obtrude themselves upon me, though with little strength. But when I dream, they not only give me pleasure but are very much like acquiescence in the act. The power which these illusory images have over my soul and my body is so great that what is no more than a vision can influence me in sleep in a way that the reality cannot do when I am awake. Surely it cannot be that when I am asleep I am not myself, O Lord my God? And yet the moment when I pass from wakefulness to sleep, or return again from sleep to wakefulness, marks a great difference in me. During sleep where is my reason which, when I am awake, resists such suggestions and remains firm and undismayed even in face of the realities themselves? Is it sealed off when I close my eyes? Does it fall asleep with the senses of the body? And why is it that even in sleep I often resist the attractions of these images, for I remember my chaste resolutions and abide by them and give no consent to temptations of this sort? Yet the difference between waking and sleeping is so great that even when, during sleep, it happens otherwise, I return to a clear conscience when I wake and realize that, because of this difference, I was not responsible for the act, although I am sorry that by some means or other it happened to me.

The power of your hand, O God Almighty, is indeed great enough to cure all the diseases of my soul. By granting me more abundant grace you can even quench the fire of sensuality which provokes me in my sleep. More and more, O Lord, you will increase your gifts in me, so that my soul may follow me to you, freed from the concupiscence which binds it, and rebel no more against itself. By your grace it will no longer commit in sleep these shameful, unclean acts inspired by sensual images, which lead to the pollution of the body: it will not so much as consent to them. For to you, the Almighty, who are powerful enough to carry out your purpose beyond all our hopes and dreams, it is no great task to prescribe that no temptations of this kind, even such slight temptations as can be checked by the least act of will, should arouse pleasure in me, even in sleep, prowhich we say that we see. Yet we not only say 'See how it shines' when we are speaking of something which only the eyes can perceive, but we also say 'See how loud it is', 'See how it smells', 'See how it tastes', and 'See how hard it is'. So, as I said, sense-experience in general is called the lust of the eyes because, although the function of sight belongs primarily to the eyes, we apply it to the other organs of sense as well, by analogy, when they are used to discover any item of knowledge.

We can easily distinguish between the motives of pleasure and curiosity. When the senses demand pleasure, they look for objects of visual beauty, harmonious sounds, fragrant perfumes, and things that are pleasant to the taste or soft to the touch. But when their motive is curiosity, they may look for just the reverse of these things, simply to put it to the proof, not for the sake of an unpleasant experience, but from a relish for investigation and discovery. What pleasure can there be in the sight of a mangled corpse, which can only horrify? Yet people will flock to see one lying on the ground, simply for the sensation of sorrow and horror that it gives them. They are even afraid that it may bring them nightmares, as though it were something that they had been forced to look at while they were awake or something to which they had been attracted by rumours of its beauty. The same is true of the other senses, although it would be tedious to give further examples. It is to satisfy this unhealthy curiosity that freaks and prodigies are put on show in the theatre, and for the same reason men are led to investigate the secrets of nature, which are irrelevant to our lives, although such knowledge is of no value to them and they wish to gain it merely for the sake of knowing. It is curiosity, too, which causes men to turn to sorcery in the effort to obtain knowledge for the same perverted purpose. And it even invades our religion, for we put God to the test when we demand signs and wonders from him, not in the hope of salvation, but simply for the love of the experience.

[...]

My life is full of such faults, and my only hope is in your boundless mercy. For when our hearts become repositories piled high with such worthless stock as this, it is the cause of interruption and distraction from our prayers. And although, in your presence, the voices of our hearts are raised to your ear, all kinds of trivial thoughts break in and cut us off from the great act of prayer.

41

I have now considered the sorry state to which my sins have brought me, according to the three different forms which temptation may take, and I have invoked your helping hand to save me. For in my wounded heart I saw your splendour and it dazzled me. I asked: Who can come close to such glory? Your watchful care has lost sight of me. You are the Truth which presides over all things. But in my selfish longing I did not wish to lose you. Together with you I wanted to possess a lie, much as a man will not utter so glaring a falsehood that it blinds his own eyes to the truth. And in this way I lost you, because you do not deign to be possessed together with a lie.

42

Whom could I find to reconcile me to you? Ought I to have sought the help of the angels? But if I had sought their help, what prayers should I have uttered? What rites should I have used? Many men, so I have heard, for lack of strength to return to you by themselves, have tried to do so by this means, but they ended by craving for strange visions, and their only reward was delusion. For they tried to find you in all the conceit and arrogance of their learning. They thrust out their chests in pride, when they should have beaten their breasts in mourning. And because they resembled them at heart, they attracted to their side the fallen angels, the princes of the lower air, their companions and associates in pride. But these allies tricked them, using magic craft, for while they sought a mediator who would cleanse them of their impurities, it was no mediator that they found. It was the devil, passing for an angel of light, and it was a potent lure for their proud flesh that he was not a creature of flesh and blood. For they were mortal men and sinners; but you, O Lord, to whom they wanted to be reconciled, are immortal and without sin. But a mediator between God and man must have something in common with God and something in common with man. For if in both these points he were like men, he would be far from God; and if in both of them he were like God, he would be far from men. In neither case could he be a mediator. But since, by the hidden pronouncements of your justice, you have given the devil licence to make a mockery of pride, he poses as a mediator. For in one point he is like man: he is sinful. And in the other he pretends to be like God: because he is not clothed with a mortal body of flesh and blood, he tries to represent himself as immortal. But since sin offers death for wages, in common with men he has this reason to be condemned to die.

43

But there is a true Mediator, whom in your secret mercy you have shown to men. You sent him so that by his example they too might learn humility. He is the Mediator between God and men, Jesus Christ, who is a man, and he appeared on earth between men, who are sinful and mortal, and God, who is immortal and just. Like men he was mortal: like God, he was just. And because the reward of the just is life and peace, he came so that by his own justness, which is his in union with God, he might make null the death of the wicked whom he justified, by choosing to share their death. He was made known to holy men in ancient times, so that they might be saved through faith in his passion to come, just as we are saved through faith in the passion he suffered long ago. For as man, he is our Mediator; but as the Word of God, he is not an intermediary between God and man because he is equal with God, and God with God, and together with him one God.

[...]

Terrified by my sins and the dead weight of my misery, I had turned my problems over in my mind and was half determined to seek refuge in the desert. But you forbade me to do this and gave me strength by saying: Christ died for us all, so that being alive should no longer mean living with our own life, but with his life who died for us. Lord, I cast all my troubles on you and from now on I shall contemplate the wonders of your law. You know how weak I am and how inadequate is my knowledge: teach me and heal my frailty. Your only Son, in whom the whole treasury of wisdom and knowledge is stored up, has redeemed me with his blood. Save me from the scorn of my enemies, for the price of my redemption is always in my thoughts. I eat it and drink it and minister it to others; and as one of the poor I long to be filled with it, to be one of those who eat and have their fill. And those who look for the Lord will cry out in praise of him.

Book XI

3

Let me hear and understand the meaning of the words: In the Beginning you made heaven and earth. Moses wrote these words. He wrote them and passed on into your presence, leaving this world where you spoke to him. He is no longer here and I cannot see him face to face. But if he were here, I would lay hold of him and in your name I would beg and beseech him to explain those words to me. I would be all ears to catch the sounds that fell from his lips. If he spoke in Hebrew, his words would strike my ear in vain and none of their meaning would reach my mind. If he spoke in Latin, I should know what he said. But how should I know whether what he said was true? If I knew this too, it could not be from him that I got such knowledge. But deep inside me, in my most intimate thought, Truth, which is neither Hebrew nor Greek nor Latin nor any foreign speech, would speak to me, though not in syllables formed by lips and tongue. It would whisper, 'He speaks the truth.' And at once I should be assured. In all confidence I would say to this man, your servant, 'What you tell me is true.'

Since, then, I cannot question Moses, whose words were true because you, the Truth, filled him with yourself, I beseech you, my God, to forgive my sins and grant me the grace to understand those words, as you granted him, your servant, the grace to speak them.

9

He is the Beginning, O God, in which you made heaven and earth. In this wonderful way you spoke and created them in your Word, in your Son, who is your Strength, your Wisdom, and your Truth.

Who can understand this mystery or explain it to others? What is that light whose gentle beams now and again strike through to my heart, causing me to shudder in awe yet firing me with their warmth? I shudder to feel how different I am from it: yet in so far as I am like it, I am aglow with its fire. It is the light of Wisdom, Wisdom itself, which at times shines upon me, parting my clouds. But when I weakly fall away from its light, those clouds envelop me again in the dense mantle of darkness which I bear for my punishment. For my strength ebbs away for very misery, so that I cannot sustain my blessings. And so I shall remain until you, O Lord, who have pardoned all my sins, also heal all my mortal ills. For you will rescue my life from deadly peril, crown me with the blessings of your mercy, content all my desire for good, restore my youth as the eagle's plumage is restored. Our salvation is founded upon the hope of something, and in endurance we await the fulfilment of your promises. Let those who are able listen to your voice speaking to their hearts. Trusting in your inspired words, I shall cry out: What diversity, Lord, in your creatures! What wisdom has designed them all! The Beginning is Wisdom and Wisdom is the Beginning in which you made heaven and earth.

13

A fickle-minded man, whose thoughts were all astray because of his conception of time past, might wonder why you, who are God almighty, Creator of all, Sustainer of all, and Maker of heaven and earth, should have been idle and allowed countless ages to elapse before you finally undertook the vast work of creation. My advice to such people is to shake off their dreams and think carefully, because their wonder is based on a misconception.

How could those countless ages have elapsed when you, the Creator, in whom all ages have their origin, had not yet created them? What time could there have been that was not created by you? How could time elapse if it never was?

You are the Maker of all time. If, then, there was any time before you made heaven and earth, how can anyone say that you were idle? You must have made that time, for time could not elapse before you made it.

[...]

14

It is therefore true to say that when you had not made anything, there was no time, because time itself was of your making. And no time is co-eternal with you, because you never change; whereas, if time never changed, it would not be time.

[...]

19

In what way, then, do you, Ruler of all that you have created, reveal the future to the souls of men? You have revealed it to your prophets. But how do you reveal the future to us when, for us, the future does not exist? Is it that you only reveal present signs of things that are to come? For it is utterly impossible that things which do not exist should be revealed. The means by which you do this is far beyond our understanding. I have not the strength to comprehend this mystery, and by my own power I never shall. But in your strength I shall understand it, when you grant me the grace to see, sweet Light of the eyes of my soul.

[...]

25

I confess to you, Lord, that I still do not know what time is. Yet I confess too that I do know that I am saying this in time, that I have been talking about time for a long time, and that this long time would not be a long time if it were not for the fact that time has been passing all the while. How can I know this, when I do not know what time is? Is it that I do know what time is, but do not know how to put what I know into words? I am in a sorry state, for I do not even know what I do not know!

[...]

31

O Lord my God, how deep are your mysteries! How far from your safe haven have I been cast away by the consequences of my sins! Heal my eyes and let me rejoice in your light. If there were a mind endowed with such great power of knowing and foreknowing that all the past and all the future were known to it as clearly as I know a familiar psalm, that mind would be wonderful beyond belief. We should hold back from it in awe at the thought that nothing in all the history of the past and nothing in all the ages yet to come was hidden from it. It would know all this as surely as, when I sing the psalm, I know what I have already sung and what I have still to sing, how far I am from the beginning and how far from the end. But it is unthinkable that you, Creator of the universe, Creator of souls and bodies, should know all the past and all the future merely in this way. Your knowledge is far more wonderful, far more mysterious than this. It is not like the knowledge of a man who sings words well known to him or listens to another singing a familiar psalm. While he does this, his feelings vary and his senses are divided, because he is partly anticipating words still to come and partly remembering words already sung. It is far otherwise with you, for you are eternally without change, the truly eternal Creator of minds. In the Beginning you knew heaven and earth, and there was no change in your knowledge. In just the same way, in the Beginning you created heaven and earth, and there was no change in your action. Some understand this and some do not: let all alike praise you. You are supreme above all, yet your dwelling is in the humble of heart. For you comfort the burdened, and none fall who lift their eyes to your high place.

Book XII

2

Humbly my tongue confesses to you in the height of your majesty that it was you who made heaven and earth, the heaven I see and the earth I tread, from which, too, came this earthly body that I bear. It was you who made them. But where, O Lord, is the Heaven of Heavens, of which we hear in the words of the psalm: To the Lord belongs the Heaven of Heavens, the earth he gives to the children of men? Where is that other heaven which we cannot see and compared with which all that we see is merely earth?

[...]

3

Undoubtedly the reason why we are told that this earth was 'invisible and without form', a kind of deep abyss over which there was no light, is that it had no form whatsoever; and the reason why you commanded it to be written that 'darkness reigned over the deep' could only be that there was total absence of light. For if there had been light, where else would it have been but high above, shedding brilliance over all? But since as yet there was no light, what else was the presence of darkness but the absence of light? Darkness, then, reigned over all, because there was no light above, just as silence reigns where there is no sound. For what else is the presence of silence but the absence of sound?

[...]

4

How, then, could it be described in such a way that even dull minds could grasp it, except by means of some familiar word? And of all that goes to make up this world what can be found nearer to utter formlessness than 'earth' and 'the deep'? Since they are the lowest in the scale of created things, they have beauty of form in a lower degree than the other, higher things, which are radiant in their splendour. Why, then, should I not assume that the words 'earth, invisible and without form' are meant to convey to men, in a way that they can understand, that formless matter which you created without beauty in order to make from it this beautiful world?

7

If it was to be there first, in order to be the vehicle for all these visible, composite forms, what can have been its own origin? It can only have derived its being from you, for all things have their origin in you, whatever the degree of their being, although the less they are like you, the farther they are from you - and here I am not speaking in terms of space. This means, then, that you, O Lord, whose being does not alter as times change but is ever and always one and the same, the very same, holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, made something in the Beginning, which is of yourself, in your Wisdom, which is born of your own substance, and you created this thing out of nothing.

You created heaven and earth but you did not make them of your own substance. If you had done so, they would have been equal to your only-begotten Son, and therefore to yourself, and justice could in no way admit that what was not of your own substance should be equal to you. But besides yourself, O God, who are Trinity in Unity, Unity in Trinity, there was nothing from which you could make heaven and earth. Therefore you must have created them from nothing, the one great, the other small. For there is nothing that you cannot do. You are good and all that you make must be good, both the great Heaven of Heavens and this little earth. You were, and besides you nothing was. From nothing, then, you created heaven and earth, distinct from one another; the one close to yourself, the other close to being nothing; the one surpassed only by yourself, the other little more than nothing.

13

This then, my God, is how I interpret your Scripture when I read the words: 'In the Beginning God made heaven and earth. The earth was invisible and without form, and darkness reigned over the deep.' Scripture does not say on which day you made them, and I understand the reason for this to be that 'heaven' here means the Heaven of Heavens - that is, the intellectual heaven, where the intellect is privileged to know all at once, not in part only, not as if it were looking at a confused reflection in a mirror, but as a whole, clearly, face to face; not first one thing and then another but, as I have said, all at once, quite apart from the ebb and flow of time - and 'earth' means the invisible, formless earth, also unaffected by the ebb and flow of time which always marks the change from this to that, since where there is no form there can be no this and no that. These, then, are the heaven and earth that are meant, as I understand it, when the Scripture says 'In the Beginning God made heaven and earth' without mention of day - heaven, that is, the Heaven of Heavens which was given form from the very beginning, and earth, that is, earth invisible and without order, which was utterly formless. In fact the Scripture explains in the very next sentence what earth is meant by this. And since it says that on the second day the firmament was made and that it was called heaven, it gives us to understand which heaven was meant by the first sentence, which makes no mention of days.

27

The account left by Moses, whom you chose to pass it on to us, is like a spring which is all the more copious because it flows in a confined space. Its waters are carried by a maze of channels over a wider area than could be reached by any single stream drawing its water from the same source and flowing through many different places. In the same way, from the words of Moses, uttered in all brevity but destined to serve a host of preachers, there gush clear streams of truth from which each of us, though in more prolix and roundabout phrases, may derive a true explanation of the creation as best he is able, some choosing one and some another interpretation.

[...]

31

For this reason, although I hear people say 'Moses meant this' or 'Moses meant that', I think it more truly religious to say 'Why should he not have had both meanings in mind, if both are true? And if others see in the same words a third, or a fourth, or any number of true meanings, why should we not believe that Moses saw them all? There is only one God, who caused Moses to write the Holy Scriptures in the way best suited to the minds of great numbers of men who would all see truths in them, though not the same truths in each case.'

For my part I declare resolutely and with all my heart that if I were called upon to write a book which was to be vested with the highest authority, I should prefer to write it in such a way that a reader could find re-echoed in my words whatever truths he was able to apprehend. I would rather write in this way than impose a single true meaning so explicitly that it would exclude all others, even though they contained no falsehood that could give me offence. And if this is what I would choose for myself, I will not be so rash, my God, as to suppose that so great a man as Moses deserved a lesser gift from you. As he wrote those words, he was aware of all that they implied. He was conscious of every truth that we can deduce from them and of others besides that we cannot, or cannot yet, find in them but are nevertheless there to be found.

32

[...]

O Lord my God, how much I have written on so few words! What endurance I should need and how much time, if I were to comment upon the whole of your Scriptures at such length! Let me, then, continue to lay before you my thoughts upon the Scriptures, but more briefly; and in so doing let me be content to give one explanation only, the one which I see by your inspiration to be true and certain and good, even though many may occur to me in places where more than one is possible. Let me lay this confession before you in the firm belief that if the explanation I give accords with the meaning which Moses had in mind, I shall have done what is right and best. This is what I must try my utmost to do. But if I fail, let me at least say what your Truth wills to reveal to me by the words of Scripture, just as he revealed what he willed to Moses.

Book XIII

1

I call upon you, O God, my Mercy, who made me and did not forget me when I forgot you. I call you to come into my soul, for by inspiring it to long for you you prepare it to receive you. Now, as I call upon you, do not desert me, for you came to my aid even before I called upon you. In all sorts of ways, over and over again, when I was far from you, you coaxed me to listen to your voice, to turn my back on you no more, and to call upon you for aid when, all the time, you were calling to me yourself. You blotted out all my evil deeds, in order not to repay me with the punishment I deserved for the work of my hands, which had led me away from you; and even before I did them, you took into account all the good deeds by which I should deserve well of you, in order to recompense yourself for the work of your hands which made me. For before I was, you were: I was nothing, that you should give me being. Yet now I am; and this is because out of your goodness you provided for all that you have made me and all from which you have made me. You had no need of me, nor am I a creature good in such a way as to be helpful to you, my Lord and my God. It is not as though you could grow tired by working and I could serve you by preventing your fatigue, nor would your power be any the less if my service were lacking. I cannot serve you as a peasant tills the land, for your works bear fruit even if I fail to serve you with my husbandry. I can only serve you and worship you so that good may come to me from you, and but for you no good could come to me, for I should not even exist to receive it.

3

At the beginning of creation you said Let there be light; and the light began. I think these words are properly to be understood to refer to the spiritual creation, because it was already life of a certain kind, able to be given light by you. But just as, previously, it could make no claim on you, by its own deserts, to be the kind of life which could receive your light, so, now that it existed, it could not claim to receive this gift by its own merits. In its formless state it would not have been pleasing to you unless it became light. And it became light, not simply by existing, but by fixing its gaze upon you and clinging to you, the Light which shone upon it. In this way it owes to your grace, and to your grace alone, both the gift of its very existence and the gift of a life that is lived in happiness. For, by undergoing a change, which bettered it, it was turned towards that which cannot change, either for better or for worse, that is, towards you. Only you can never change, because you alone are absolute simplicity, for whom to live is the same as to live in blessed happiness, since you are your own beatitude.

5

When I read that your Spirit moved over the waters, I catch a faint glimpse of the Trinity which you are, my God. For it was you, the Father, who created heaven and earth in the Beginning of our Wisdom - which is your Wisdom, born of you, equal to you, and co-eternal with you - that is, in your Son. I have had much to say of the Heaven of Heavens, of the earth invisible and without form, and of the deep, showing how its darkness was in keeping with the spiritual creation, which, in its formlessness, had no cohesion or stability. Such it would have remained unless, by being turned to God, from whom it already drew such life as it had, it had received beauty as well as life by the reflection of his glory. In this way the Heaven of Heavens came into being, that is, the heaven of the heaven which was later created between the waters above and the waters below. When I spoke of these things, I took the word 'God', who made them, to mean the Father and the 'Beginning', in which he made them, to mean the Son. But, believing that my God is a Trinity, I searched for this truth in the sacred words of his Scripture and found it where it says that your Spirit moved over the waters. Here, then, is the Trinity, my God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the Creator of all creation.

11

Who can understand the omnipotent Trinity? We all speak of it, though we may not speak of it as it truly is, for rarely does a soul know what it is saying when it speaks of the Trinity. Men wrangle and dispute about it, but it is a vision that is given to none unless they are at peace.

There are three things, all found in man himself, which I should like men to consider. They are far different from the Trinity, but I suggest them as a subject for mental exercise by which we can test ourselves and realize how great this difference is. The three things are existence, knowledge, and will, for I can say that I am, I know, and I will. I am a being which knows and wills; I know both that I am and that I will; and I will both to be and to know. In these three - being, knowledge, and will - there is one inseparable life, one life, one mind, one essence; and therefore, although they are distinct from one another, the distinction does not separate them. This must be plain to anyone who has the ability to understand it. In fact he need not look beyond himself. Let him examine himself closely, take stock, and tell me what he finds.

But when he has found a common principle in these three and has told me what he finds, he must not think that he has discovered that which is above them all and is unchangeable, that which immutably is, immutably knows, and immutably wills. For none of us can easily conceive whether God is a Trinity because all these three - immutable being, immutable knowledge, and immutable will - are together in him; whether all three are together in each person of the Trinity, so that each is threefold; or whether both these suppositions are true and in some wonderful way, in which the simple and the multiple are one, though God is infinite he is yet an end to himself and in himself, so that the Trinity is in itself, and is known to itself, and suffices to itself, the supreme Being, one alone immutably, in the vastness of its unity. This is a mystery that none can explain, and which of us would presume to assert that he can?

28

And you saw all that you had made, O God, and found it very good. We, too, see all these things and know that they are very good. In the case of each of your works you first commanded them to be made, and when they had been made you looked at each in turn and saw that it was good. I have counted and found that Scripture tells us seven times that you saw that what you had made was good, and when you looked for the eighth time and saw the whole of your creation, we are told that you found it not only good but very good, for you saw all at once as one whole. Each separate work was good, but when they were all seen as one, they were not merely good: they were very good.

The same can be said of every material thing which has beauty. For a thing which consists of several parts, each beautiful in itself, is far more beautiful than the individual parts which, properly combined and arranged, compose the whole, even though each part, taken separately, is itself a thing of beauty.

35

O Lord God, grant us peace, for all that we have is your gift. Grant us the peace of repose, the peace of the Sabbath, the peace which has no evening. For this worldly order in all its beauty will pass away. All these things that are very good will come to an end when the limit of their existence is reached. They have been allotted their morning and their evening.

37

In that eternal Sabbath you will rest in us, just as now you work in us. The rest that we shall enjoy will be yours, just as the work that we now do is your work done through us. But you, O Lord, are eternally at work and eternally at rest. It is not in time that you see or in time that you move or in time that you rest: yet you make what we see in time; you make time itself and the repose which comes when time ceases.

38

We see the things which you have made, because they exist. But they only exist because you see them. Outside ourselves we see that they exist, and in our inner selves we see that they are good. But when you saw that it was right that they should be made, in the same act you saw them made.

It was only after a lapse of time that we were impelled to do good, that is, after our hearts had received the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Before then our impulse was to do wrong, because we had deserted you. But you, who are the one God, the good God, have never ceased to do good. By the gift of your grace some of the works that we do are good, but they are not everlasting. After them we hope that we shall find rest, when you admit us to the great holiness of your presence. But you are Goodness itself and need no good besides yourself. You are for ever at rest, because you are your own repose.

What man can teach another to understand this truth? What angel can teach it to an angel? What angel can teach it to a man? We must ask it of you, seek it in you; we must knock at your door. Only then shall we receive what we ask and find what we seek; only then will the door be opened to us.

Table of Contents

伟大的思想(第一辑)我的栖身之所，我的人生目的 by 亨利•戴维•梭罗

- 目录
- 扉页
- 版权页
- 中文目录
- 简朴生活
- 我的栖身之所，我的人生目的
- 冬日里的动物
- 结束语
- 英文扉页
- Contents
- from Economy
- Where I Lived, and What I Lived For
- Winter Animals
- from the Conclusion

伟大的思想(第一辑)论自然 by 拉尔夫•瓦尔多•爱默生

- 目录
- 扉页
- 版权页
- 中文目录
- 自然
- 历史
- 自立
- 英文扉页
- Contents
- Nature
- History
- Self-Reliance

伟大的思想(第一辑)天才，舍我其谁？ by 弗里德里希尼采

- 目录
- 中文扉页
- 中文目录

- 瞧！这个人！

- ——天性，何以成就自我的价值？

- 序言

- 天才，舍我其谁？

- 机灵，岂但如此？

- 佳作，何以叠出？

- 天运，我自晓得！

- 真理的曙光

- ——铁锤，何以矫正以往的哲理？

- 箴言，足以抒怀！

- 贻误，独有四遭！

- 铁锤，为我代言！

- 英文扉页

- 英文目录

- Ecce Homo

- How One Becomes What One Is
- Foreword
- Why I am So Wise
- Why I am So Clever
- Why I Write Such Good Books
- Why I am a Destiny

- Twilight of the Idols

- or How to Philosophize with a Hammer
- Maxims and Arrows
- The Four Great Errors
- The Hammer Speaks

伟大的思想(第一辑)看不见的手 by 亚当•斯密

- 目录
- 中文扉页
- 中文目录
- 1　论劳动分工
- 2　劳动分工的原理
- 3　商业体系的原理
- 4　对于商品进口实施的限制
- 5　限制的不合理性
- 6　农业体系
- 英文扉页
- 英文目录
- 1　The Division of Labour
- 2　The Principle of the Division of Labour
- 3　The Principle of the Commercial System
- 4　Restraints on the Importation of Goods
- 5　The Unreasonableness of Restraints
- 6　The Agricultural Systems

伟大的思想(第一辑)论生命之短暂 by 塞内加

- 目录
- 中文扉页
- 论生命之短暂中文目录
- 论生命之短暂
- 致赫尔维亚的告慰书
- 论心灵之安宁
- 英文扉页
- 论生命之短暂英文目录
- On the Shortness of Life
- Consolation to Helvia
- On Tranquillity of Mind

伟大的思想(第一辑)论世间苦难 by 阿图尔•叔本华

- 目录
- 中文扉页
- 中文目录

- 随笔集

- 论世间苦难
- 论存在之虚无
- 论自在之物及其表象的对立
- 论对生存意志的肯定与否定
- 论我们的本质存在不能被死亡摧毁
- 论自杀
- 论女人
- 论独立思考

- 箴言集

- 论哲学及智力
- 论美学
- 论书籍与写作

- 英文扉页

- 英文目录

- ESSAYS

- On the Suffering of the World

- On the Vanity of Existence

- On the Antithesis of Thing in Itself and Appearance

- On Affirmation and Denial of the Will to Live

- On the Indestructibility of Our Essential Being by Death

- On Suicide
- On Women
- On Thinking for Yourself

- APHORISMS

- On Philosophy and the Intellect
- On Aesthetics
- On Books and Writing

伟大的思想(第一辑)常识 by 托马斯•潘恩

- 目录
- 中文扉页
- 中文目录
- 常识
- 涉及土地的公平问题
- 英文扉页
- 英文目录
- Common Sense
- Agrarian Justice

伟大的思想(第一辑)论君权 by 弗朗西斯•培根

- 目录
- 扉页1
- 中文目录
- 论复仇
- 论双亲与子女
- 论婚姻和独身
- 论妒忌
- 论爱
- 论高位
- 论善与本性之善
- 论游历
- 论君权
- 论狡猾
- 论利己的学问
- 论新事物
- 论消费
- 论养生
- 论猜疑
- 论言谈
- 论财富
- 论野心
- 论美
- 论残疾
- 论建筑
- 论花园
- 论交涉
- 论请托者
- 论学问
- 论虚荣
- 论愤怒
- 扉页2
- Contents
- Of Revenge
- Of Parents and Children
- Of Marriage and Single Life
- Of Envy
- Of Love
- Of Great Place
- Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature
- Of Travel
- Of Empire
- Of Cunning
- Of Wisdom for a Man's Self
- Of Innovations
- Of Expense
- Of Regiment of Health
- Of Suspicion
- Of Discourse
- Of Riches
- Of Ambition
- Of Beauty
- Of Deformity
- Of Building
- Of Gardens
- Of Negotiating
- Of Suitors
- Of Studies
- Of Vainglory
- Of Anger

伟大的思想 社会契约论 by 让-雅克•卢梭

- 目录
- 扉页
- 中文目录
- 第一卷
- 第二卷
- 第三卷
- 第四卷
- 英文扉页
- Contents
- Book Ⅰ
- Book Ⅱ
- Book Ⅲ
- Book Ⅳ

伟大的思想(第一辑)忏悔录 by 奥古斯丁

- 目录
- 中文扉页
- 中文目录
- 第一卷
- 第二卷
- 第三卷
- 第四卷
- 第五卷
- 第六卷
- 第七卷
- 第八卷
- 第九卷
- 第十卷
- 第十一卷
- 第十二卷
- 第十三卷
- 英文扉页
- 英文目录
- Book I
- Book II
- Book III
- Book IV
- Book V
- Book VI
- Book VII
- Book VIII
- Book IX
- Book X
- Book XI
- Book XII
- Book XIII